A few weeks ago I was contacted by Alex who lives in the United Kingdom. He was asking if I could ship my artwork Priority Post to the UK so that it would arrive in time for his niece’s 16th Birthday. I wrote back saying yes and with an estimate on the shipping and handling charges and asked which piece he would like the additional shipping charge added to in the shop.
I was delighted when he wrote back saying Evolution. What is nice about this particular illustration is that it is one of the few pieces that I documented during the process of creating it. I sent along the link to the step by step guide blog post so that his niece could learn how to create Evolution as an assignment in school.
This was a great surprise to me. Thank you Alex and Emily for permission to use your photograph and to share your story here on the blog. I’m still smiling. Hope you are both well. And Emily, good luck with your art studies!
Over the weekend I was asked to join in a triad of masturbation. A triangle of female heads only visable through a a pre-decided frame. I said yes. Then said no. It’s not what I want. But is this what I want? I desire. I crave not unlike any other for human interaction of the sexual kind. Why is it only in the mind that it persists? Why is not aparent physically? To jump out of ones skin every now and then is needed. It is needed to be able to fucking cum amongst others. Where does the attraction come in or does it resemble a long lost vestibule of carnage only our ancesters were really aware of. Cognitively they new to spread it around. Fuck!
There are voices. I hear voices of my own within my mind. You know, we all do it. We all talk to ourselves from time to time.
I can’t seem to figure out the relation between ship and harbour. Once you do it for someone else does it make it any less significant? Ya do it all the time say. Never doing it for yourself. How do you really do something to yourself? How do you do something to yourself. I think we do. When we only do to ourselves what we do to ourselves we become them. And maybe they don’t really undertsnd what is going on with you. Maybe they can’t see everything that is happening. Maybe all the opinions don’t really matter. Maybe they and them can go and shove it, while the maple leaves fall soggy to the pavement in the midst of entanglement they entwine, combine filtering clear to mirror one another. They are the same.
It’s easy to let reality slip away she thinks. It’s easy to fall and bleed into the ground. It’s easy for blood to trickle upwards in the imagination and easy for him not to see what is happening. This is dismal.
I don’t want to feel obligation. I don’t want to feel guilt. I don’t like experiencing the feeling envy. We all do sometimes, may not want to admit it but we do. Haven’t you ever jumped? Jumped but not landed? I wonder what it feels like to land? I miss many things. Many things of wonder. Many things of unamed pleasures. I feel angry. I feel fear. I feel rage at times even. That is when i don’t land after jumping. Some emotions never hit the ground. They can overwhelm your being.
I begin to edit.
Editing I go.
Train of thought…
hesitating to show.
this editing does not exist
it is unatural
words, dialogue want to persist.
Evident, sixty feet down
submerged in clear
flowing shining, water
Any lawyers out their?
(please note that the following is not real. It is SCI-FI. It could contain some real names, places and things. The idea is just that; an idea. This is fiction.)
Does a current website *exist to provide court services to the public, issuing rulings as determined by the public for the public? What if our world adopted a court system that people, anyone with access to the intenet could decide whom is perhaps: guilty or not guilty simply through using technology as verification of who they are?
Pretty soon we will reach a state of existance where no one person or jury of persons in physical human form will cast votes as penalty. This would be ideal to those of us who work online as artists, designers, illustrators, videographers, podcasters, writers, phtotgraphers, programmers, bloggers, pay sites owners, search engine creators, ad creators, ad users, gamers and simply anyone who generates an income through the web regardless of actual physical time spent on the web.
The state of lawsuits existing around the world simply because of web content regardless of the infringment of use, said charged person(s) should be judged on the web not in physical form by people who could perhaps meander around the web regardless of how long there usage or length of time spent on the net is, but by anyone including everyone. Think of the millions spent in the physical world on trying cases because of online copyright infringment. Online is NOT offline. Copyright infringment on the web happens on the web, NOT in physical form on the outside.
So what if someone stole your idea or you are the one who stole it. Why would you or the other person(s) involved discuss it in a physical courtroom. Let the online community decide what happens online. You would NOT get banned EVER from using the internet again. During a decision time when the citizens of the world are deciding your verdict from the time submitted by one the parties involved and confirmation of said accustaion and acceptance by the defendant, will you only then be NOT permitted to use the intenet at all essentially banned through the worldwide identity verification system.
A thought cannot hurt anyone nor can it harm anything outside of it’s physical embodiement. The iternet can not hurt anyone. Would you rather take your chances in a court room located physically anywhere in the world and hence judged by potential people listening to the facts but who are not adept at knowing what happened on the net? It’s on the net poeple? think about it!
…and she realized that it was only a visual halucination caused by the acid she had ingested the day before. She came to glancing beside her then down as a cockroach promptly entered the room from underneath the door where her head had just been. Moving her hand to the floor pushing her body into an upright position she looks to the person on the bed. The remnants of the illusion disapear along with the cockroach. Blinking she removes her coat. She steps up standing now. The bed sits untouched. Shrouded in darkness she strips naked.
Was the cockroach real; or just another late night after effect of too many drugs taken for too many days. She whispers I need to sleep and not on the floor this time fearing another cockroach could actually burrow it’s way into her ear. Stepping into bed, pulling the covers over her head she smiles giggling, remembering her first awkward encounter with a female German cockroach… and how she, in haste, recorded the event as it took place one night back in late December 2005 while watching an artists documentary on PBS.
Note This was a creative story meme I accepted from flic. Thanks Dude!
This is what it is like to have an anxiety induced phobia come on all because of a little murdered cockroach LOL. The images I scanned in at real life dimensions for legibility. They are, however a little large once you click on them. Please be patient.
In the spirit of learning meme I tag Bonita In Pink. Thank sweety for being the first one to initially tag me with a meme a couple of months ago. I didn’t know what it was. I had to do some research. I now understand. I’ll also accept your meme now.
Ever heard of an eargasm? It’s similar to an orgasm but this gasm happens in the ear, stimulated by none other than a q-tip, after showering. Eric popped his cherry the other day.
“Ah honey, there is blood on the q-tip” I say as he walks through the kitchen pulling the fuzzy white tipped stimulator out of his ear.
“Oh.” Eric responds pushing the q-tip back into his ear to finish it.
He walked away and we both conitinued with our day. Today however, while laughing to myself about the incident thinking ah my boyfriend popped his cherry. Laughing outloud now by this revelation I stare at him.
“What! wwwhhat, is so funny?”
“You popped your cherry yesterday.”
“It’s not funny. It HURT!”
Roaring I said “It won’t hurt again. It only hurts the first time…”
Staring with an embarrassed smirk he sighs “Jessica…”
You know, he even gets that googly-eyed-look as he does this, daily. It is a strange pleasure, but not unheard of.
*This image of the cotton swab links to this page at Wikipedia.org.
This is in answer to the post entitled Novel Blog Styles over at the Blogherald. It is pretty damn good sci fi if you ask, me. It has since been sent to paper at lulu. It’s in the top one hundred! Congrats to Tactical Underground
Have a look at google search for this day by day armageddon
The book is written well… kind of like a blog. It is a blog – a sci fi blog – a blogella? cool.
â€¦who flew airplanes. All kinds, makes and models did he fly.
We met in front of Comeau’s
beside the potted eggplant you see.
He talked to me of gardening and of being an agriculturalist.
He talked to me of flying to Alaska and then home to his wife.
He had on a baseball cap of navy and a shirt of similar shade
with slacks coloured grey.
He smiled as we talked.
His teeth were old and his nose small,
a weathered face of many memories were traced into place.
I bid him adieu
turning, I met Eric smiling.
We walked inside before the grocery store closed, to buy a tomato and milk.