Here We Are!

There's no stopping us now...

Sultry

You know that "Sultry" expression that models like to use? Yeah, like this one! Well, it just looks silly. I'm not buying it, models.

Menagerie

Hey, it's my 700th post. Cripes!

Simpler Times!

In the Room

Getting Acquainted with Horror

You're Doing Great!

I'm Not Like All the Others...

No, no, not at all. Many artists have powerful observational skills. I don't seem to have those. Sometimes, if I concentrate on it, I can maintain it for awhile, but most of the time it's like my eyes are just there for decoration, or simply to fill what would otherwise be really off-putting holes in my face.

I was on my way to work this morning when, in the side mirror, I noticed that I had left the little door to the gas tank-- the fuel door, I guess-- open 21 hours earlier when I last filled up. I didn't notice it at the gas station. I didn't notice it on the the drive home. I didn't notice it when I went outside to walk the dogs. I didn't notice it when I took out the trash. I didn't notice it when I got in the car this, bright, sunny morn. No. I was on the freeway, about 15 minutes in to my morning commute when I saw it.

I won't call it a miracle, but somehow the gas cap was still there... you see, it isn't attached to the car. When you take it off to fill up, you have to slide it into this sort of slot in the back of the door where it barely hangs on by it's threads. And, that's where it was when I finally got off the freeway and pulled over-- though it had slipped a bit and could have lost its grip entirely if not for my quick action.

Ye gods, what a boring story!!! You've been duped again. There's nothing of value here, is there? Hmmm, what can I do to fix it? Let's see... nothing I guess. The damage is done. Time to just move on. Sorry.

Thug

So, there I was, at the supermarket late on Easter eve, searching for chocolate bunnies so Cooper wouldn't be disappointed in the morning (because as he was going to bed, he mentioned how much he liked the one he had gotten one last year. And, among the ton of candy that we had bought this year, there were no chocolate bunnies). I was perusing the Easter display at the front of the store when out of the corner of my eye I saw a couple of what appeared to be humans walking in, and as they approached, I looked up and nodded a friendly, yet cool hello to the most advanced creature. (I use the term advanced in the positional sense, not in the evolutionary development, or sophistication sense). These were gang-members, heavily tattooed and menacing. Hard-core. As they passed by, the guy said to me, "Oh, hey Cop. What's up Cop? All right Cop..." obviously thinking I was a member of the law enforcement community. They wandered off toward the liquor aisle, and I was left wondering whether being mistaken for a cop might work to my advantage in this situation, or whether I was going to be shot in the back of the head.

I wanted to finish my business and get the hell out of there so I wouldn't have to find out the answer to my question. So, I got into one of the two open checkout lines, and hoped for the best. I chose the one most distant from the booze aisle, but either way, I would have my back turned towards it. I didn't want to make myself obvious by turning around to look, so I tried to find reflections so I could anticipate any attack that might be coming, but I couldn't find any. I held my knife in my pocket, ready to flip it open and slash at throats if it came to that, while hoping that the line would just move quickly. And of course, OF COURSE, the lady in front of me had a coupon for Cheerios, but the size of the boxes she had selected did not meet the strict requirements of the damned coupon. So, the helpful checkout person offered to go retrieve some boxes of the correct size. She trotted off, and I was left a sitting duck.

Meanwhile, the gang-creatures had (thankfully) chosen the other line, and I overheard the checkout lady there saying that she couldn't sell them alcohol because they already appeared to be drunk. (Oh good, poke the monster with a stick, why don't you.) So, the dude starts getting belligerent, and accusing the checkout lady of discrimination and loudly proclaiming his pride at being a "Gangster." As he and his companion walked over to the line I was stranded in, he was saying what a "dumb bitch" the checkout lady was, and how they should just walk out with the case of beer, and angry, threatening stuff like that. By that time, I think I was paying for the bunnies, so I expected SOMETHING to happen since my interaction with the cashier was really the only activity in the store at that moment.

But, luckily, SOMETHING didn't happen, and I walked out of there pitying the Cheerios-retriever that I had just paid, and wondering how she was going to handle the menace. Maybe being mistaken for a cop doesn't hurt in situations like that. I wondered if I should call the real cops as I left, but I didn't.

Sorry there was no payoff to the story, but at the same time, I'm really glad that it didn't get any more interesting than it already was.

Food, Inc.

As Big as Trees

Cutesy Mural Thing

Here is a little mural thing I made for Cooper's classroom. They've temporarily turned one of the corners of the room into a little shop area.

Rhetorical Question

I think it's pretty obvious what you've done, Beardy.

"W"

Dubblyew is the 23rd letter of the alphabet.

Phlegm, Not Vomit

Aargh, I've been sick.

The Way Out

A few weeks ago I had one of those epic, powerful, symbol-drenched dreams that leaves it's footprints all over your psyche for a good long time. This (bad, lazy) drawing shows the last "scene" of the dream: I found myself in a big room filled with people selling and yelling about their different dogmas and "answers" to all the Big Questions. It was like a big bazaar-- loud, confusing, claustrophobic-- and I just wanted to get out of there. I think I said, in my exasperation, something like, "How do I get out of here?" And, that's when I looked over and saw this: A heart-shaped tunnel of brick in the wall, and outside the window I saw someone running away--Free!

Cool, eh? Love is the answer, I guess.

Red Flag

When they start talking "Freedom" you just know it's a marketing ploy. It should raise a Red Flag, all right! These guys wouldn't know Freedom if it walked up to them topless and blew pot smoke in their faces.

Fittest, Most Qualified

So, this is the archetypal American Man of Power. Sure, there are exceptions to the rule, but most of them look like this. I suppose I'll look like this in 30 years or so, so maybe I'll run for office-- or I'll stab enough backs and step on enough faces to get up that ladder my ownself! Sure, sure I will.
This drawing was inspired by J. Edgar Hoover. I drew it while I was watching the documentary The U.S. Vs. John Lennon over at sprword.com

"But, I Don't Know How to Ride a Unicycle."

Figure 1.

I don't mean to imply that we create our own realities, but we do edit things a bit. Somehow we do it. We create the context, and we interpret the "Outside World" using distorted perceptual filters. Who knows how many selves we are, and to what extent each of these members of the Mob-Self force their agendas onto the poor Ego who has to interpret this stuff? What am I talking about?

And, in regard to my last post, to what extent does our projection actually affect "Reality?" There is an interplay-- the act of observing something physically changes it--read about the Observer Effect why don't you! Do the changes that each of us bring about individually also impact other observer/projectors? What if I interpret a situation to be tragic, while someone else sees it as simply benign? Does my interpretation somehow alter the situation for the other observer? Tell me!!!

Magick Lens

Sometimes I think about pitching my own show. I even have a decent idea rolling around in my head. I just have so many other things that take up my time. Also, I'm lazy.

Anyway, what I drew here is a result of my thinking about how to get a project past the idea-stage and out into the world as a real damn thing. Maybe it doesn't illustrate my thinking exactly, but that's OK. I was thinking that one way to approach the process would be to take some time to visualize the show (or whatever it is) as an already-finished type of thing. Make it a mental reality. See it as complete and successful and all I ever wanted it to be. See it impacting the world; see it being seen and appreciated by others; maybe even see it making some kind of positive change.

Then, somehow, the image must be made manifest-- it must be projected onto the world until it takes physical form. It's like a Tulpa--a thought-form that becomes an actual entity in the physical realm.

Of course, it's not good enough to sit back and imagine things all day. That's mental masturbation. One must act! One must direct one's energy toward the goal. It's not enough to simply build the form, one must fill the form with concrete and allow it to harden.

Looking at the drawing, I wonder whether the finished form should somehow be visualized as inverted. How would that work? Maybe I should stand on my head during the visualization process. Ha ha!

Chess Solution

Hey, remember the post from December 23rd of last year? No? Just scroll down then...I'll wait....
OK. I have the solution. I didn't figure it out, though. T'was Rybka what figured it out! So, here is the solution:

1. Qxh7, Kxh7
2. Bf8+, Qh6
3. Rxh6#

Aren't you relieved? I know I am. Why didn't I see it???

Go Here.

This is a great site. I arrived at it by way of a link to its Documentaries Page (you can click on that to go there). It has TONS of stuff to watch. TONS!