The Little Things…

This photo up top is of my temporary art table.


That is my bed.

That’s Archimedes in the background. He’s a little bi polar. He doesn’t talk or anything, but he’s been with me through thick and thin over the past 8+ years.

archimedes(bullet point 01)

(He does suprisingly well in the spinning cycle.)

Sitting in his lap, (in the first photo) that’s another little varmint I picked up. I chose to name him Ros Ghoul. (the ears of some comic book nerd is burning right now)

Is it weird to look into the eyes of a stuffed toy and see within them a sparkle of unbridled joy? No matter what their caregiver may be experiencing, those things mirror the pleasure we have for living that I think at one point was within all of us. Those of us who are adults now.

Still, I like to think of them, Archimedes Polium (his full name) and Ros, both as horcruxes of the positive magic. (Harry Potter fan nerd-gasm happening somewhere now) All my best vibes into these guys.

Oh yeah, art table. Working on one of my heroes right now, two of them actually. I just went back to do a once over her (the hero) before the shading process. All four heroes of the team should be done by the weekend.


Bet Betsy Ross’s…

…hands would be tired and bloodied by now.

If I were President today…

The military works as a unit. If one messes up, the entire team messes up. Police are paramilitary, (more and more military actually) I would fire everyone in the offending precinct. Bring in the National guard until a new police force is put up in that precinct.
And when I say fire everyone, I mean Fire EVERY SINGLE cop from THAT building, clean it out.
The same way you’d fumigate a house.
Pending reviews and a thorough vetting process, some officers may be be rehired.
Officers behaving in this way represent their precinct. That means the captain is at fault, and all of the other enabling officers are at fault, by default.
If the officer is rogue. It means the police captain is at fault for not calling it in check.
Firing every cop in that building sends a clear message.
Heck, Reagan fired every Air Traffic controller in the nation just for going on strike.
Was that more drastic than firing every officer in the offending precinct to save future lives?
You tell me.

The Retreat.

It is to me as sensational as the advance.

There is a rhythm, a pulse, to life and activity itself.

T’is only the listening that reveals it, only the listening.

I bet there is a song on it somewhere.

Whether it be a sad one or one of joy, depends on the player, the singer, the dancer.

As I listen, my vision becomes focused, a bit dried.

The intermittent brief instances of silence is peace.

The advance.

The awareness and acceptance of all your known truths and shadows.

An embrace of your Now.

Ah, but then thoughts and balance must hold sway.

There again is my retreat.

Do we all…

…spend the day going about our business pretending disinterest in the strangers around us?

Not to stare for too long if it’s another guy or it could be construed as a come on?

Not to stare for too long if it’s a female or it could be construed as a come on?

Not to stare for too long if it’s a minor, or someone much younger than you, or it could be construed as creepy?


For the pretty people, at times it must be difficult.

For the not so cover worthy people, at times it must be infuriating.

For the physically disabled people, at times it must be excruciating.

All of us pretending not to see.

All of us pretending not to be seen.

It just seems, to me, that each and everyone of us out here is feigning disinterest.

Amidst some of the most awe-inspiring, riveting stories of triumph, of learning, of sacrifice and personal growth, of yearning, failure, and hope, we pretend not to acknowledge the writing, as a library of souls pass us by.