The Kebilsphere

the bus arrived just as the ocean in the sky fell

Directors edition of the previously released but banned documentary, The Orange Collar Crew - A Worker’s Outrage”

The Original: The original film was first screened at the Kan’t Film Festival. It was original and empathetic. It was the extremely honest, deranged, yet strangely sensitive depiction of a motley troupe of 8 Mennonite crackers and their well intentioned but ultimately misguided attempt to tackle the crack problem on the streets of a surreal Manitoba town.

Censorship and Banning:
After the initial screening and ensuing controversy, the footage was re-edited and essentially gutted by MHM studios before finally being entirely suppressed by the Global Film Academy of Reinfeld, at the behest of the American Fundamentalist Picnic Club, the CIA, Mothers Against Fun, the DEA, FDA, and many other organizations that suck.

The documentary exposed the secret world of asphalt crack sealing. Also documented was the excessive (water) drinking of all 8 members of the crew, allusions to the use of nicotine type drugs, as well as several shots of frontal nudity.

The Story:
The actual story revolves around these 8 men, armed with nothing but their wits, super heated black rubber, steel toe boots, strange delusions, large doses of hallucinogenic drugs, and plaute deutsch.
The Orange Collar Crew waged an extended war on street defects in the town of Winkler at the turn of the 21st century.

The Director:
A revered iconoclastic fool, lauded as being the most genuine, empathetic, and philosophically incoherent poets of his time, Kiev F followed the trials and tribulations of The City of Winkler Public works crew for several years to put together this master work.

Popularity of Original: The original releases never achieved mainstream recognition despite becoming available on the black-market and on the internet. The amount of censorship which destroyed the integrity of the movie made it difficult to follow.

Never had mainstream success due to its harsh critique of 21st century materialism and rationalism and the controversial subject matter. The original release of this film was derided and criticized by the right and left who saw it as a product of the militant solipsists trying to question the active suppression of the Public and Civic workers of the world (the so-called Orange Collars), and the legitimacy of the totalitarian democracies of the West

Lifting of Censorship and Re-release:
“The Orange Collar Crew” was dismissed and derided by the Global Film Academy of Reinfeld, The Winkler Coalition for Coherence and Truthfulness in Philosophy, and condemned by the North American Association of Mennonite Public Works Workers. It was banned in 156 member states of the United Nations (however, The Netherlands never suppressed or even censored the file

After multiple months of suppression by the Global Film Academy of Reinfeld, Friesen Brothers Films decided to take the radical step of remastering the footage to rid it of the censorship, resulting in this redux version of the original “The Orange Collar Crew” resulting in the dramatically improved “Orange Collar Crew - Directors Edition”. Forgoing the opportunity to make profits, the documentary has been released into the public domain under standard Open Source Agreements. This extended version contains scenes originally thought to be too extreme, shocking, misleading, totally baffling, absurd, and retarded for public consumption.

This incendiary directors cut shows the fanatically fervor fed by the Orange Collars conviction that awareness of the self, and the complete inability of natural science or philosophy to ever provide even a singular proof of the existence of realities apart from the self, is justification for the practice of hedonistic, nihilistic, anarchy.

The remastered edition contains never before seen footage in its original, uncensored, unrated, and explicit form.
Clearly documented is the extreme, even excessive zeal of the Orange Collars in attacking the street crack problems plaguing Winkler asphalt.

It is hoped that these steps will allow the message of the Orange Collar Crew to ring throughout the land.

Please look for further works by the makers of this film. You can reach the director and producer of the film at kebilfree@hotmail.com

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Like two drunks, blind from blood, sweat, tears
Lurching at each other, stumbling through oncoming traffic
Swinging madly at each other
Punches flung past each other
Fists driving into reflections of ourselves, in pools of blood on the pavement

Smash my head on the windshield of a yuppie terrorist SUV
Stupid Ugly Violence, driving by, killing the environment while we kill each other
I don’t know if auto insurance covers the act of homicidal emotionally insane maniac
No longer is this domestic violence, nothing domesticated about
Pure wild anger barely disguised as words, typewritten or spoken, or slurred
Hammering out my anger on the keyboard
My fingers swollen bloody, nails ripped off
This computer monitor is minutes away from flying across the living room
Only wish you were there to catch it with your head

Yeah this is ugly mean and vengeful, I say these things into the ether
because you don’t give me the time of day to say them to you

You won’t even give me the satisfaction of being heard
And so I yell into the void that is cyberspace
There is no sound in a vacumm
There is no sound in the emptiness of black space

So I ready myself for another dark time of nightmares and bad dreams
Wishing that I would not wake up again from the sound of my screams

Yes, I am at one with the universe, the peace of nature flows through me
I am a creature of love and creation
nay, homicidal ideation

Fuck you, you selfish bitch
And damn the parents who spoilt you and let you stay a
40 year old whining child

That is about all that I can say to you now
You no longer hear anything I have to say
You call when you need my money
You call when you need my sympathy
You call when you want an emotional punching bag

I only know that most of the time I am doing pretty good
Save for when you call me
And then I can be sure that the next 12 hours will be filled with
Anger
Fear
Self Recrimination
A desperation born of self loathing
And the feeling like you stole five years of my life, so that
you could live a life of laziness and self-indulgence

It is now wonder I so wanted to kill my feelings with as
much alcohol and opiates as I could swallow and snort
And a surprise that the amount I did get my hands on
did not kill me by “natural causes”
And a miracle that I did not die by mine or your hand

Although sometimes it feels like you did succeed
and kill a large part of me
The part from which my dreams once came from
The part that was filled with hope
The part that could envision a future not alone

What I look for these days
what I am wanting these days
is to be content

And many days I do have moments of contentment
Moments when I realize that even though I am nowhere,
I am where I need to be
I can be happy right here where I am
And I can be happy where it is next to which I go

I just need to keep my head off the ground
No matter how beaten down I feel
No matter how much I may feel I have fallen
No matter what hole it seems I have dug myself into
No matter if I feel like I am stuck in the mud
I can always roll over
And at least look up

There is always an up to look toward
Something to work toward
And sometimes it may take a time to wallow in my mire
Sometimes it is okay to hurt
I am not yet a master and still will lose sight of what is

And what is, what it is all about
What everything all means
It does not mean anymore than it already is

But still yet, even though everything is at as is
Will be as it will
And the universe will take care of itself,

Still, some days I hurt

Tonight I feel unusually at ease with myself
Somehow satisfied, appetites satiatied
Dare I say it; I am content

Somthing ineffable,but worthy of vain attempts to convey
an experience, an emotion, a wonderful feeling,
or was it the absence of all those pent up feelings

I experienced not a feeling, but a lack of sensation
Yet it was with anaesthetic in absentia
Emotional minimalism in a sense, in essence
soft black velvet on which to lay my head

I know where I am, I am here now,
but for a moment, momentarily, I was nowhere

Comfortably cataleptic, not catatonic,
Motionless and yet not emotionless”

Not dissassociated, merely unentangled
not disinterested but uninvolved

A wave of nothing washed over me, enveloped me
Emotional sublimation, evaporation, dissapation
I was emptied of all sorrow and anguish, anger and grief, guilt and regret

As Dawn’s grey grevious fog that day, had dully lay, reluctant and lingering, hanging in the air unmovable and voiceless
Then the sun burnt soft and grey yellow
the mist imperceptible in dissappearing, vanished in a suspended instant

Were that there were more moments such as this
The peace of the void, the fullfullment of naught

Sometimes I write just to prove to myself
To prove to myself that I still am
And to leave evidence for me to find tomorrow
That I was here the time before

I leave sentances with traces and hints of what thoughts
and feelings and doings and meanings I was construing
And the sentances and words, paragraphs that lead to pages
They are not just vanity and masturbation
These orphaned words are what lends to me a sense on continuation

A thread of constancy, a sense of self
An electronic image I am drawing of myself, to remind myself
Remind myself of where I have been, where I once was
What I was looking towards back then, and to see if now I have arrived
at that destination upon which I once set
at a point in the past.

And the fact that this is all public domain does not mean
that I have no sense of shame
Rather, I think of it as a way of keeping myself honest to my true audience, which is of course, myself

I do not mind, and rather blushingly smile, to know that some upon these words others eyes may sometime meander. To share this space in thought and feeling is something unique and uniquely human. Something
which is oft underated and misunderstood.

Today was a splendid day
Filled with happiness and gumball drops
Lollipops and puppydogs and butterflys
and all those things that make little kids fly

Today was another day
12 more inches, another footnote in the book
People pushed and people grumbled
And they trampled on each other

Today was sparkling fresh and crystal blue sky
White fluffy clouds, an after noon shower and a rainbow
A gentle breeze, and the trees all dancing in along with it
The sounds of the birds song as their accompaniment

Today people saw fight to yell at one another
Plunging figurative knives into the backs of those they said they held dear
Today the world looked away as millions lay starving, thirsty and dying
And we paid lots of money to bomb the fuck out of people we don’t even know

Today was just another day, chainsaws buzzing through the happy parade
Rats gnawing at the stilts of the clowns walking down the streets
Kids eating pink cotton candy filled with hidden maggots and flys within
And yes Dorothy, this ain’t Kansas anymore

And Tomorrow will be another today when time sees fit to drop us in it
And we will scurry about, some with our heads in the clouds
Others with their gaze straight forward, striving for that goal, whatever it is they seek
And some will trod along, eyes downwards, and sullen

Tommorow, I will walk, in my ethereal and incorporeal in my way
Stubbornly refusing to accept to see the revolving cacophony of chaos
Everybody striving in all directions, nobody seeing what they cannot bear to accept
Humanity breeding both savagry and beauty, strife and mercy, profitting from it’s own demise

My problems I thought I had all left behind
and today and wake up to find they have sprung up anew

The seeds of all my sorrows are contained within myself
I am my only problem, the only problem I need to deal with is me

If I reap what I sow, and I’m sowing seeds of sorrow
what is it that I am going to reap tomorrow

One the I sure hope it is not is a pile of regrets, but no
regrets are weeds, ineviatable in life, but you can try to keep them down

Sowing these seeds, giving life to lies yet to blossom?
Another manic swerve in my path, veering as a drunken bush driver

Side to side, I am flying down this highway, lights are out, heater to
and all the songs on the radio pertain exactly to me

The bus is veering left and right, I can’t even remember which is
the correct side of the road to drive on, and I don’t care

I hope there is nobody else trying to navigate this road
although I could really use some company, alone as I drive this way

I thought I left you behind months ago, I thought I left me behind
but I am catching up on were I have been going and am not sad

These days it matters less and less what happens or how things are
I seem to have some very effective tools of denial

Ways of making what I thought was so not come true
And I have ways of dreaming up troubles where there are none

Last week, I was sure, the entire town was conspiring against me
Some sort of social experiment, patronizingly treating me with kid gloves

Everything just seemed to be going to easy, people seemed to jumping out of my way, people seemed to be going out of their way

Now I realize it was because they all saw the lurching monster I was
And I thought I was hiding everything oh so well

Falling leaves falling leaves indeed.

I remember when I was a kid and somebody introduced me to the idea of what essential madness is like. This guy, lets call him Guy, he must have had some insider information about what I was thinking of at the time. Wow, talk about secret brainwave readers. My tinfoil cap was not even a memory. And now, as I talk about this, I can feel myself as if I weird man this is pretty fucked up right here. I am also glad that I took that extra bus more days than not… …

Talking in fragmented sentances and whatnut. Should’v done that . What have you been up to all day. Can you not just pay off the phone bill. Your parents told me that they had already sent you more than enough money. Secretely I slp into a slide arond the bgend. If Coma cannot six times a day. Rudby ball. Today I am evening operation ruoomy. I don’t know if I can stop anymore. I thought it was doing me some good.

And now I am more back in the mundane world of the sane. The conditions to which my mind is being subjected to having them there. That was not jail.

July 7th, 2007

Kebil (just let it slide off my back)