John Storrow

Boston Model Sailing Club? I would very much like to bring together some sort of in-formal group for sailing and racing R/C (remote controlled) model boats in the Boston Area. I have three possible ponds, the Christian Science Reflecting pool, the Charles River Esplanade lagoon, and the sheltered area close to Community boating. I have been racing for many years at the Marblehead Model Yacht club, and more recently in Worcester, but I live in Boston, and It takes time and money to travel to these places. More importantly, it would be awesome to bring the fascinating and challenging sport of R/C model sailing back to Boston. The more the merrier so to speak. In the spring I will bring my Soling (pictured above) to any of these Boston locations on a regular basis. The best inspiration is to see these boats in action You've never had fun sailing until you get behind the controls of one of these boats. I am very interested in helping others to get boats built and sailing. I...

here's my Flickr page with the paintings http://www.flickr.com/photos/77543416@N06/sets/72157629990469625

comes from boxes that walk through holes that once held foxes. the turn of geese that comes from clocks that once held greese and only blocks was the turn of keys that could un-lock docks that once held ships wearing golden sails like elephants turning down paths that lead to burning of wide open swaths of grass. but the eggs could foat and slip on the grease like children playing and trying to make peace by un-locking the entrances to the box that stands in the field of distances.

nail the stick to the board with a tick and the goard that is slick to the board that will slide into the wide hide of the ship. then glue the chip to the other clip and bolt the hip to the clanging rod that gets the nod from the board of the union. then fasten the wind to the truss of the barn the way you miss the spool of yarn but don't forget to kiss the little farm that grows wood. but not before taking a walk through the forest of trees that grow behind your house.

splat into that big hat goes the string into the thing that will always bring the twist to the mist in the fist but the rat doesn't see that the way the vat of beer can. so the Helicopter flies to the doctor to ask the protractor why the world is blue and why the sword is new to the puddle of goo. It is because says the fuzz the world moves in tiny grooves in the surfaces of horses hooves

is the most of a ghost that will roast the reason for the season. or the source of the divorce and the public discorse that is the reason for the flood thad covers the season. or the material that creates the cereal that feeds the most etherial of the ghosts that live in trees.

and tomorrow creeps in this canoe to the last part of the old brown shoe before the start of the dark city becoming new. but the petty blue that supports the canoe is farther than the shoe can walk, even when new because the light shrinks and the canoe sinks to the bottom of the blinks that happen when the minks try to paddle the canoe into the river beside the bottle of glue at the last syllable of recorded goo that drips down from above the shoe as it glides down the river in the old brown canoe.

the wind can begin to spin the twin of the chin of the budha. but it cannot fry the deicate fly that lives in the sky or the pig sty that lives in the city.

the firwst word that the herd heard was blurred by a turd as it flew past the mast and landed in some grease