Like an ancient Egyptian, i spent the mornings drawing a likeness on the inner soles of sandals, and so, throughout my day i will symbolically crush the enemy with every step that i take.

   O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever lived in the tide of times.

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,

To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife

Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;

Blood and destruction shall be so in use

And dreadful objects so familiar

That mothers shall but smile when they behold

Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

With Ate by his side come hot from hell,

Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice

Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

With carrion men, groaning for burial.

- Marc Antony /via Shakespeare

  

 

Cannons

It's an engine of creation. If it works, don’t fix it. If it’s broken, don’t fix it.

About three-thirty in the nighttime, I came across a makeshift temple with a handwritten sign. Anyone that trespasses will be recruited for earthy employ.

I had gotten use to the brevity of the after world: the hilarium, the tediousness, and the dull.

Hearing I was drafted, I did myself the favor of getting real drunk in the classic off-to-war style way before headed off. In training I learned I was to wear a white uniform sporting red diagrams. Not understanding if I was to be read as information or stand out as a target, and before I could ask what the — I was sent back — back to exact locations on earth leaving notes to mortals. The letters were pretty little things wrapped in rags explaining luck of ominous intent, timing, and farewell. The receivers where to recognize the import of the kismet, or not. 

……….

“Well then, how DO you work? I mean, in general.”

“Generally,” Kim answered honestly, “I agree to whatever the client likes, and then I go and do what I want to,” she rolled her eyes and shrugged, “You know, in general.”

 

They both climbed up on the tailgate and looked into the cooler. Kim discarded her thigh high lace-up sandals and rubbed at the tattoo marks left by the leather straps.

Les handed her lunch, and she immediately ripped open the hoagie and began digging through the sandwich to tossing out what she would not eat.

“I’ll take that,” he interrupted her arm in mid-air.

Ignoring a blinding shine winking a bit off in the distance, he tossed the pickle into his mouth and continued the thread he had been trying to get across. 

“Like I was saying, that Buick/Opel ’76 is an ugly car, I mean 2 for 1 ugly. Ahead-of-it’s-time ugly.” His mood was all pink and baby blue, teetering on the fun Sagittariun/Gemini nightmare that he embodied.

Tiring of this conversation she sang out, “Got it!” extending the vowels. “Don’t you just love the way the desert is so VERY quiet.”

He smirked and communed with the sandwich, his jaw popping.

……….

It is all happenstance without much insight. There were neither names nor address on the small bundles. I began to wonder if synchronicity came into play. Does it have a pause button? What happens when the receiver is not looking or listening? On altered planes? What is an altered level? Are all levels altered? Are these, too, synchronized? Interesting questions without practical experience. I was back puffing and theorizing, walking the halls of middle school. The problem with this job, is too much time to think. Better to dwell on those impossible koans instead of the thwart factor. I set again to working fast in the dimensions and under conditions they gave me, sprinkling notes across a vast area. I Hurried to get finished, but also felt dread in getting back to home base.

……….

Thinking of nothing in particular but hoping for a thought to catch hold, Les hummed Canon alla Ottava slowly, a short fugue he had known since he was 7 years old. His fingers absent-mindedly moved to hit cords on an invisible harpsichord.

Kim was reminded of her earlier chapters, processing her life in five minutes the way brains do because they can. It read like a Herman Hesse novel, edited with a multitude of breakfasts and trips to the bathroom. She could count her life throwing curves at the right time — but there was always the whiff of anxiety just before a shift. The doubting that something will fall into her lap, just before something falls in her lap.

A piece of trash looking strangely like a rag spat out of no-where on no-wind and gently settled on red metal, looking like a burned paper scrap from a far off fire.

“Why DO you like the desert?”

“Well,” she simplified, “It’s a large blank canvas to me.”

He imagined a pressure cooker and arranged another smirk. Picking up on this mental image she added,

 “Okay, a hot canvas. Something will happen. The white screen will in time burst and reveal something you didn’t imagine.”

“You’re are scaring me.” Les mocked, “Anita, white is for babies.”  

He loved her, but loved to tease her more, keeping her from spinning out completely. Her triple Scorpio nature always lurked.

Kim palmed her chin and splayed her fingers, “Ha! You came with your mouth open. It’s immaterial. But it’s usually something cool, nothing scary about it.”

“Touché.”

……….

Delivering fate is like connecting the dots. A shattering and replacing of stars, to become an aerial view of a city map of manhole covers. Bright circles of the primary colored twister game connecting dot-to-dots. Of the 101 delusions maybe there’s only one copied over and over. This was all beyond my threshold of adventure. Mars in Cancer. But, who would be brave enough to say so? Not me.

……….

Les fell to patient waiting for the wide white screen to crack open with the missing piece. Patiently waiting for Kim to find a Godot.

“Ever feel like you’re looking for gold in a copper mine?” he offered. They both looked out, their gaze following a meandering gully left by a recent flash flood.

A yellow balloon drifted past them high up in the atmosphere along an escape route from an amusement park 74 miles away.

After another long pause, Kim seceded the campaign.

“Okay, let s get going, I’m not finding what I came here for.”

Jumping down, she stretched sideways with her hands on her head. She followed him into the truck.

“And, on the way back please, don’t desecrate Motown.” The engine cranked over and the stick pushed into first.

He raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t I show you my hall-pass?”

She was in control of the wheels as they spun a u-turn. Peeling away, what looked to be a delicate rag flew off the top of the red cab.

-30-

Albeit not an easy task … the universe has succeeded in temporarily overwhelming me. 

So, my retort is to face the corner, pencil in hand, + learn to draw.

Vigilante

visual antics

individual acts

more into the grand gesture

than the blind hem

these days

DRAGON + CIRCLES

He held the winged doll in his arms cradling it as he swayed back and forth imagining the life it represented.

Squinting into the sun he imagined the disadvantage of sword fighting against the light with the opponent silhouetted. He moved toward the surf and knelt down dragging the figure onto the sand. The silk brocade fabric wicked up the salt water splaying it in a meander following the jacquard pattern. The darkening of the form interested him and he studied it with intent, not hearing the small girl child come up and plop beside him with familiarity, the obvious question on her face.

He silently cursed his inability to defend and responded begrudgingly,

“Playing at magic.”

Her look remained unimpressed so he continued,

“This is a do-it-to-it doll. Somewhere it’s happening to another real live dragon. And I’M doing it.”  He made a jab to his chest with a thumb extended from a fist.

He realized having said so the idea relied on a leap of faith. Glancing at her sideways and seeing her charmed, he eased and had a try at being humble.

“And that makes me St. George. The magic dragon slayer. "

…….

A soft mist encircled the early morning moon as it rose from between the sugar trees. The reflective spotlight quickly embraced all that lay in its wake as if tardy and making up for the mistake.

“Merry we meet.”

She stepped into the circle, and lit a white candle on the stone altar.

It was then she felt a dragging motion as if water deadened her limbs and crawled to her neck, holding her firm as if the strangling would be slow over a period of days. At once she became aware of the necklace she had worn since her fifteen birthday. It had become a tight reminder of old songs and past chapters; all hard won to be neatly forgotten. 

……….

 This convincing had the young girl emptying her pockets of the tools and findings of the day. With the look of someone picking out retribution, and with great ceremony he moved his hand over the collection as if sensing energy. With disenchanted enthusiasm his hand hovered over the spilling of broken Coquina, an entire twirl of tangerine peel, a bit of string, a tangle of monofilament, a barbed fishhook and broken stick. He scooped up the fish line and held it out to her.

“Let out the knots and I’ll show you.”

She struggled with that task as he easily fashioned two spears from the twig and shell with the string. He pierced his finger in testing the weapon's worth and raised an eyebrow in expectation of her compliment. She gave up the de-knotting, noting it a ruse to keep her occupied.  She traced his glance to his bloody finger then back to his eyes.

 

“Yuck.”

She immediately regretted it. Having gained tribal trust, his smirk now seemed to show dissapointment in grossing her. He doubted this, priding himself on not discriminating upon a person’s gender, as that was to act in ignorance of a deeper truth. He ignored the retort and pushed ahead.

“This is how you kill a frog without really killing it.”

……….

She broke the necklace and tossed it toward the candle, hitting just so, making it sputter then reignite bolder. This became a sign, a chance to reunite the universe. She wanted to burn clean and begin again from the supernatural that is naturally potential.

Walking the perimeter of the circle, she made a safe countenance against the spears of invading authoritarian hierarchy.

……….

The young girl modestly withdrew her body, as she craned her neck toward the experiment for a better look.

Not wanting her help, he positioned the dragon between his feet and held fast as he readied the implements of despair. Ignoring rules of the blood-circle, he challenged the air between himself and the fire breathing foe of medieval legend. A spear in each hand, and with a burst of adrenalin he forced the makeshift arrows into the head of the doll meeting up through the center scale.

……….

She gazed up toward the moon and saw an apparition winging toward her. An ecstatic ride held her in a trance and whispered vaguely in a language she had yet to understand. Two eagles crashed inside her head, exploding in a light unbearably brilliant and the electrical resonance left sparks scattering throughout her being. She tore at her hair until the divine ecstasy eased. Centering herself as the ancient omphalos, she moved out and beyond not looking back.

……….

With a bend and a twist he released the victim from the spears.

The dragon lay disfigured, an interpretation of death.

-30-

 

                                                                           

One of my favorite unrealized tee shirts:

We may be Slow, but we’re Expensive.

Honestly, i have those horrifying moments while driving, when i completely + absolutely do not know where i am. Intellectually, i know it will only last a moment, but emotionality that moment lasts an eternity.

i like savoring the feeling of being ahead of whatever game i’m playing. Being ahead is better than the view never changing...

Everything on my do-to list is to-done. i know it’s a scrim illusion, all an ongoing relentless process. But hey, throw me a bone here.

Moreover, while i’ve spent these few minutes hunting + pecking i’ve probably lost my edge, so it was all a moot point. 

i’ll mash print anyhow.

Someone turn on the radio, it is mostly way too noisy in here.

Somehow feeling the need to vindicate myself, in the moment, + say that i can draw sweet also.

i naturally go toward the asymmetrical in design work.

Actually having to slow down to think or rethink into symmetrical; to work something in that way. As some folks naturally see the symmetrical, + then work through that onto the asymmetric side of things.
Do you get what i mean?

BELL
He went and came, he beat his hands together, he ran from rope to rope, he animated the six singers with voice and gesture, like the leader of an orchestra who is urging on intelligent musicians.

...

He was wholly absorbed in spurring on his bells, all six of which vied with each other in leaping and shaking their shining haunches, like a noisy team of Spanish mules, pricked on here and there by the apostrophes of the muleteer.

All at once, on letting his glance fall between the large slate scales which cover the perpendicular wall of the bell tower at a certain height, he beheld on the square a young girl, fantastically dressed, stop, spread out on the ground a carpet, on which a small goat took up its post, and a group of spectators collect around her. This sight suddenly changed the course of his ideas, and congealed his enthusiasm as a breath of air congeals melted rosin. He halted, turned his back to the bells, and crouched down behind the projecting roof of slate, fixing upon the dancer that dreamy, sweet, and tender look which had already astonished the archdeacon on one occasion. Meanwhile, the forgotten bells died away abruptly and all together, to the great disappointment of the lovers of bell ringing, who were listening in good faith to the peal from above the Pont du Change, and who went away dumbfounded, like a dog who has been offered a bone and given a stone.

-The Hunchback of Notre Dame -Victor Hugo

Everyone stands alone at the heart of the earth,
transfixed by a sun ray; 
and suddenly it is evening. 
-Salvatore Quasimodo, Tutte le poesie

sketchbook / cover # 45

Why do you have such bad handwriting, when you can draw so well?  

-Chloe

i get energy + inspiration from working on something completely different.

Want to work costume ideas? Illustrate a mandala.
Want a book theme? Sculpt the Mona Lisa.
Color story? Take off your glasses and make the lines disappear.

me: Hey, i just found an old scrap file named 'cities', in my writing ... it’s spelled wrong.

Lonnie: Well, if it were spelled right, we’d know it was a forgery.

...good luck will rub off when you shakes hands with me...
 -Bert  + we thought that was only coal dust.

It’s time to do the shuffle + purge, again.

from: The Truth is Still Being Made Up / triptych

174
Glancing back to photos from this time i looked poetic.

It certain chapters of my life it has helped me to turn the page by exiting the country. i do love packing up + leaving. There isn’t a better remedy than seeing my puny life on the other side of the world to put things into perspective. Long distance vision will anchor on what is amuck.

i broke the bit this time by going to Central America. First leg of the trip included a white knuckle flight from San Francisco to New Orleans. The pilot announced that we were in the eye of the storm + would he turn the plane around + have another try at heading it off. The pilgrims were getting drunk in their seats w/ the complimented hospitality that says give ’em free booze + they won’t realize what's happening. Every time the plane pitched + hawed the clients whooped yah-hoo as though they were riding the most exciting roller coaster EVER. In sober distraught my silent mantra went on uninterrupted. We are all going to die.

For me, air travel is too close to astral flight. i spin out easily, so i ground myself at the first feeling of deliverance. When sentenced to a mandatory air transit i  usually end up thinking, The pilot is going extremely too fast!

No dare devil me in the sky at this time or ever.

i have thought, though, being a trapeze artist would be a real kick. It would be fun to wake up one morning + be on a flying team. But i’m certainly not willing to train for years + years to be able to do it.

175
Layover in the Nicaraguan wilderness.

We were waiting for the six seater to drift over the hills + collect the next group to be flown into Costa Rica. Fuselage lined both sides of the rough short rural landing strip. i remember looking hard + imagining that THAT piece of metal was still smoking! We were several people w/ diverse accents. Someone casually mentioned the most beautiful beach in the world. Then each in turn told of their sanctuary. Very specific places, on the other side of the world, on the fifty-five degree parallel, south of Bombay, second sand arch on the left. People pulled out paper pads + took down obscure directions to hideaways as though they were going to travel there next week. The scene had all the flavor of a group of Dead Heads scribbling down concert notes.

Travel is a bug that, once bitten, becomes an addiction.

from -Metta / Loving-Kindness illuminated

i bet you also have those ideas, that you just can't not do.

She had a great diminutive Cuban grandfather by adoption. If something went wrong, ie, a knife breaking while cutting the illustrious bird, or the hose kinking, he would get a faraway look + reach for the ceiling (or sky) reciting Shakespeare. He could pull out, by heart, the appropriate character + speech for any situation. 

-Chance Neglected 23/24 

Speak on, but be not over tedious. - Shakespeare 

this is -Tyberious Laughing.

The gap between compassion and surrender is love’s darkest, deepest region.  -Orhan Pamuk

Listen through your screams to the wind still whispering: Don't give up -- Surrender!  -Eric Ganther

He is fairer than the morning star, and whiter than the moon. For his body I would give my soul, and for his love I would surrender heaven.  -Oscar Wilde

165 It was requisite to see Niagara falls on our road trip. We ended up hitting the state line in the middle of the night + all the fancy lights had been shut down. We smuggled W.S.Trax into Canada. By that time she was very use to ‘lie still’ on the floor in the laundry bag. After seeing the big deal we walked up to the part where the water was calmer + belied no threat. It seemed like an nice swim around. i thought how easy it would be if you had a death wish to ease yourself into that lovely water. Fifty feet along the drift you’d get caught up in the here after. It’s not something you’d be able to change your mind about. You’d need to have set your resolve. 

Last night, lying in bed, i began thinking how real that danger would be if one of the children slipped through the space between the grass + cement into that water for a little swim. The kind of realization that makes your heart race even though the danger is ten thousand miles away + ten years past. i had to mentally reduce Niagara to a harmless puddle to get back to sleep.

i often wake up + not know where i am. i don’t recognize the orientation of the room. The window being THERE, the door THERE.  But some inner prompting lets me to know. It doesn't make it sunny to know this is simply the human condition + limitation working.

from -Script For a Practicing Artist + an Unfinished Life.

Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't.  -Mark Twain

'Drew had sat quietly + listened to a Tibetan monk + his translator. Three hours flew by. He must have been deep in thought, for on the way out he accidentally let go the door on Ruth Denison, who was coming up behind. We apologized. + i thought, she is wise, she knows we all have to live in this world, too.

Crystal, Rainbow, Indigo ... i realize my naivety, + this is all very interesting, but what of identifying generations in the metaphysical world + the one world we have to live in? We are all a part of a tribe that propels the next forward. If the new kin coming up think they should be able to image what they want + have it in front of them instantly ... so, what about it? Yes, we may be able to do this in a one hundred years, but for now, unless in front of a fast food counter, a bit of patience works the best.

i find more + more wider + wider descriptions for making everyone happy — spiritual yet flippant — serious yet irreverent — beautiful yet edgy.  

Will you explain everything when the opportunity presents itself?  -Ringo / HELP

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