Like crowded beauties, the words come falling, marching, crawling out of me. They push each other aside with elbows made of vowels and consonants; their hearts are in their middles, between their sounds, and those words of single letters – they are so pure, so simple and so prime.

The purpose and meaning of clocks and money, and gasoline and insurance – all these traps of world and life – they are all annihilated in this feast of understanding – this orgy of cognition. Where are the skies? Where are the animals and people? Where is the purpose under heaven at once sung about and pursued by millions and billions? I have them all on the tip of my tongue, and beneath the curves at the ends of my fingers. Where are the letters sent to mothers, the telegrams arriving from the sea? Where are the whispers in the night that convince a million mothers-to-be that its all right – that ‘we will make it somehow’, that the time is right for families to bloom and ripen into broods?

Where are my memories? Where are those visions I have lost – those dreams that I have dreamt which flashed away during eclipses of consciousness between sleep and non-sleep – between awake and non-awake?

I witnessed an eclipse last night and took a picture; when the picture had developed, I saw nothing but an eye up in the sky, and that was not the eye of god – it was the eye of I – of myself and no other, though now it becomes yours, as I share it with you. For that is the nature of story-telling: to take that which is mine, and to give willingly and without fear – to make one experience into two – yours and mine, and when there is more than one experience, it does become a phenomenon, a happening – an event or would you even whisper – advent?

We discover what my heart is filled with when I let the truth bleed down onto strange pages, filled with – not words – but lives – little lives that hush each other, vying for their opportunity to be admired, to be skimmed over briefly by sets of eyes in heads on necks on bodies that have grown up slowly over time, into beings that may comprehend their meaning. For what are words but ideas given form? And are we not the same? Are words not unlike us? We create them in the image of our thoughts – we give them the attributes of life – they grow and change over time, and eventually, all words must die. Oh yes – they are alive, and we must give them the respect that they deserve, granting them attention when they are young, nurturing them into their prime and maturity, so that when they do go to their death-books, they have each lived full and beautiful lives, full of adventure and passion. And may they each leave little words behind, that will grow and become sacred in their own rite – the offspring of ideas which came before Them, transmuting the world from a place of strangers – to a place that does not know the meaning of that word, into a place that could not be imagined – or possible – without Them.

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Mailing out this new zine titled I WANT TO SEE THE WORLD! soon…


This one is all about the places I have been and other places that I’d really love to go and visit.

Yesterday, July 9, 2013, the Skiatook Writers And Poets group, (S,W,A,P.) met for the first time at the Skiatook Public Library. The whole experience was really amazing. Met lots of incredibly interesting people and saw some great work that I’d love to get more into this month. We’ve got a new meeting scheduled for August 13. This could turn into a regular thing.

Will be tackling the subject of Mail and the Post Office in my next zine probably titled Awesome Post Office. That one might be out within a week.

Still taking sign-ups for the mailing list at thirtyseven@live.com

Everyone on the list gets free ebooks regularly.

Will be back before too long with more info and new writings.

As always, have fun and thank you for reading!+++



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Hey, Hello there, hi, greetings!
  Today I’m sending out this new e-zine called HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO SKIATOOK?, that tells all about my current home town / city / place of residence etc. This is a little country town that is turning into a city slowly but surely. Everyone I know is pretty chill and I stay out of trouble for the most part. There are some cool shops here and some really great and amazing people that I can really call my friends. A lot of cool stuff happens here, if you know where to look or make it happen. Either way, I call Skiatook home and its a nice place if you want it to be. Like any place, I guess.

To get the free ezine, HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO SKIATOOK?, sign up for my email list by sending an email to thirtyseven@live.com with the subject heading, “ADD ME!” and I’ll add you!.Than I’ll send you the eine for free, followed by other free stuff as it gets finished and mailed.

Hope you dig it and I’ll be back sooner or later with more stuff and things and items and downloads, etc. Thank you for reading!

P.O. BOX 745

To subscribe to Jason P Doherty’s mailing list and receive free ebooks, recordings, etc. please email thirtyseven@live.com with the subject heading: ‘ADD ME!’
To unsubscribe from Jason P Doherty’s mailing list and receive nothing further, please email thirtyseven.webs.com with the subject heading ‘NOT ME!’
Thank you! +++

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greetHELLOings and The Allegoricon



Last month, readers were introduced to greetHELLOings the new book from JASON P DOHERTY, that’s me (its my company’s name too.) Interest was instantaneous and the book started climbing the charts. It has since taken weekly jumps of thousands of places and is currently above the 25,000 mark. That’s out of over a million books on lulu.

Click here to check out greetHELLOings now: http://www.lulu.com/us/en/shop/jason-p-doherty/greethelloings/paperback/product-20998207.html


Artists can learn from and enjoy the work that went into greetHELLOings on many levels. The text includes lots of new and innovative typing experiments created with old-fashioned typewriters and there are some interesting correspondence experiments as well including The Sundy Paper, which is a correspondence collage, (Several letters to different people typed on one page and mailed out to every person on the page) and JUNKMAIL a typeing-experiments and counterculture newsletter originally on letter-sized paper, then on postcards and now in its 3G incarnation, JUNKMAIL DELUXE, which is a digital edition available to readers via email at thirtyseven@live.com Subject heading: JUNKMAIL


In August, you will be getting a first look at my new book, THE ALLEGORICON, a book of parables and fables that have been inspired by true life events and the stories of The Brothers Grimm, and Aesop’s Fables, as well as Bible Stories and Greek Legends.


You van visit my site for weekly audio recordings of my writings and for updates on what you can expect in the future.


Thanks for reading this, you’re awesome!





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For Those Who Come Looking

Dear Visitors,

Hi. This is going to be the last entry in this blog for quite a while. I’m glad you stopped by. If you’re here, chances are you’ve seen something I’ve done, or maybe we’ve worked together in some way. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it.

I’m just about to start up a publishing company that has a pretty good chance of being called 3RD MIND PUBLISHING, or something very similar. Thee Anti Control Manifesto? and This Number Speaks are planned for rerelease sooner or later under the new flag, and I’m currently working on a new text I’m calling The Thought Bombs of Ilkios Mame.

I’m out here in Oklahoma, where I feel quite at home. If you’d like to write me, here’s my address:


P.O. BOX 745




Oh yeah, another text I might be working on is called 37 Victims.

Thanks for stopping by.

Jason P Doherty

June 8, 2012


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Ignore The Television

Tribe TV - May 2011

The Art House in Tulsa Oklahoma, Modern Abstractions show May 19, 2011 – My 6′ by 4′ painting, E Neubaten / Growing Cities is one of 12 works in the exhibit. This is the first time my art has been in a real show. Thank you Chris Mantle, The Art House, Rachel Doherty, Eric Conner, Ian Imlach, Ezekiel Bickford, Nannette Hummell and Influence Gallery, Colours Gallery in Hillsboro, oh and the United States Postal Service for getting the painting from Portland to Tulsa in 2 days.

The drawing here shows a guy turning his back on television, and television does not like what it sees. The turning man has something on his mind…

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Dear Mom, I’ve joined an art cult.

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