The Stoney Shirt Is A Nice Touch

 

The Artists' Complication

Standing there with a brush in his hand

Has no idea what he's going to do, hasn't got a plan

Just knows he has to create, has to get something out

Something that might be put up on a wall

Or something that might end up in a garbage can

In the end it isn't his concern if it's something 

                                                       That will be admired

Or if it's something that is reviled, possibly despised

He simply must create

                          That is the curse that compels the drive

How's My Driving?

 

The Lady & The Rogue & The Officers

   The two beat cops both stared in amazement as the tall, well-dressed but still appearing disheveled man grabbed the equally well-dressed woman by her right arm and started to pull her towards a large, expensive coupe parked near the curb.

   The woman frantically pushed at the man trying to break free from his grasp, an obvious look of fear on her face.

   Instinctively both officers ran towards the altercation, the larger of the two shouting towards the man and woman in a loud, authoritarian voice, "Stop where you are and take your hands off that woman!"

   The man froze in his tracks and did exactly as the officer instructed, releasing his grip on the woman's arm and then turning to the now slowed-to-a-fast-walk officers.

   In a clipped almost impetuous tone and with a very distinct accent, the man stated calmly if not coldly, "Officers, I can appreciate your interest in what you may perceive to be a domestic disturbance, but I assure you it is not. I am a citizen of D'shanistan and if you do not turn and walk away I will demand to see my representative at the D'shanistan embassy."

   "Sir," the shorter of the two officers replied with what appeared to be a suppressed smile, "as a visitor to the United States you are required to comply with and follow the laws just like everybody else. I'm going to need to see your identification."

   The man pulled at the sides of his suit jacket as if to make himself look more prominent. "Officer, you are obviously not fully aware of the protocols regarding how the staff of a foreign consulate are to be treated. I demand to speak with your superior at once!"

   As the man was talking to the officers the woman he had grabbed was slowly backing away from the curb and maneuvering herself so that the two police officers were between her and the man.

   The two officers looked at the man for a moment, then the smaller of the two asked, "Are you a diplomat sir? Or are you an employee of the embassy of D'shanistan?" In either case, we will need to see your identification."

   The man stood quietly while staring at the officers. he glanced toward the woman who now stood at least 15 feet behind them, near the entrance to the hotel that she and the man had just left.

    "As a citizen of D'shanistan I am not required to show you anything. I am demanding that you either allow me to leave with that woman or else call your superior immediately." The man's face began to redden slightly as he spoke.

   "Excuse me for one moment" the smaller of the two officers said. He then turned and walked back to the patrol car parked fifty feet away. 

   Opening the door he reached inside the car and picked up the console mounted radio, then requested to be patched through to the Captain on duty at the station.

   The Captain, a man with twenty-four years on the force, was on the radio quicker than the officer expected. "What's the situation Kincaid, are you in need of assistance?"

   Officer Kincaid quickly filled the Captain in on the situation. With a small laugh he added, "This is just like one of those old movies about American tourists in Europe getting in trouble and demanding to be taken to the U.S. embassy, except in reverse. Kinda funny."

   The Captain replied without hesitation, "Well, it's not funny if that guy is actually a diplomat. I'm going to call the D'shanistan embassy and see if I can get someone to clarify if one of their people is staying at that hotel. Stall the guy for a few minutes longer."

   Officer Kincaid walked back slowly to his partner and the man, staring into a small flip book as if he was reading something pertinent to the situation.

   "Sir, I have contacted my superior and he has directed me to ascertain your identity, so I am going to have to request to see your identification once again."

   The man stewed. He turned to look behind him at the large, expensive coupe and then turned back towards the officers and slowly spoke to them as if they were school children. "You do not know who I am, so what good would showing you my identification be? You do not realise who you are insulting at this very moment."

   "Sir" the larger of the two officers stated with more contempt than civility, "If it is important to you that we know who you are than showing us your identification will go a long way toward resolving that issue."

   As he spoke the radio on his partners belt began to crackle. Officer Kincaid turned and walked out of hearing of the man in order to take the call.

   "Kincaid," the Captain spoke. "I was able to contact the embassy. They accounted for all of their embassy personnel and do not know who the man you have made contact with is. If you and Thompson witnessed him physically manhandling a woman, I suggest you bring him in".

   "Roger that Captain. We'll see you in about 15 minutes. Maybe he'll tell you who he is".

   Kincaid silently signaled to Thompson to initiate arrest procedure. 

   Thompson, took his handcuffs out and asked the man to turn around and place his hands on the roof of the large, expensive coupe. The man appeared stunned and momentarily looked as if he was going to fight the officer, but just as quickly became compliant and turned toward the car.

   Thompson took one of the man's wrist and encircled it with one of the steel cuffs, then repeated the process with the other wrist, all the while reciting the Miranda rights to him. 

   The woman who had just minutes ago was being dragged towards the car looked on at the scene of the arrest.

   And she smiled.

 

 

Reveling In The Ignorance

 It's been a long time since I felt like I needed

To search for anything

In fact, I can't remember the last time I felt

That I needed to know the meaning of life

Or the meaning of anything, really, for that matter

I can't remember the last time I had the thought

That finding something that would make sense of everything

Was important

I can't remember the last time I had the thought

That it really, really mattered that I figured it all out

Nowadays I'm content not knowing 

Content not wanting to know

I guess it's true what they say

Ignorance is bliss

The Most Preposterous Conspiracy Theory...So Far

There I was just minding my own business at the gym when a guy I recognized but didn't really know came over and sat down on the bench right next to the one I was using.

"Hey", he said, in a manner that suggested an invitation to conversation, desired or not. "What do you think of the action on Wall Street yesterday?"

I turned to him and shrugged my shoulders and said, "Well, you know what they say, millions are made by people who buy when the blood is running in the streets."

He chuckled a little and said, "Yeah, I've heard that, don't know if that's true or not because I don't have the money to gamble like that, but what do you think about how the Chinese are bringing down the value of Tesla stock?"

I took a few seconds to reply to that because I really had no idea what he was talking about and my eventual reply was just that: "What are you talking about?"

"The Chinese man, the Chinese government, they've spent the past three years working to bring down Musk and it looks like their plan is working. It's so they can corner the electric car market worldwide."

Though I didn't want to be drawn into the conversation I said, "Can't say I've heard anything like that at all - where did you pick up that info?" 

He raised his eyebrows as if it was a shock that I had not heard about the nefarious doings of the Chinese government and then he said, "Yeah, a lot of people haven't heard about it because there is a huge cover-up going on - the Chinese and Korean hackers attack any websites that mention it and have targeted just about every individual social media user who has posted anything at all about it. Some of my friends have been hacked man, so I know it's happening."

I looked at him and with just a touch of skepticism asked, "Have you yourself posted anything about it on Facebook or whatever and then been hacked?"

His reply was something like, "Oh hell no man, I'm not stupid enough to post anything that's going to get me targeted. Only way I'll discuss it is person-to-person, you know, with people I can trust"

"Well thanks for telling me, appreciate that. I'll have to look into it." I said this as I got up off the bench to head over to another station.

"Be careful buddy, this thing is real, don't treat it like a joke - it's real real." He said that with an uncomfortable amount of seriousness as he walked away.

So, here it is, my lazy research into the Elon Musk is being targeted by the Chinese government conspiracy dealio - I'm writing this and posting it to see if I get hacked.

Should be a fun wait.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

Lakewood Museum Of Discarded Art - The Winterscapes Retrospective

   Just an FYI, the Lakewood Museum of Discarded Art is a semi-regular posting I create to showcase the wide variety of artwork I stumble across at garage sales, thrift stores, church bazaars and other places that deal in original artworks that have been discarded by people who either have grown to dislike them or have always dislike them but are just now getting rid of them.

   Some of these pieces are quite good and some are not. Evaluating art is very subjective and has lead to many an argument, so I'll just post these pics and stand back.

 

 

 

How Archie Dealt With The Yin & Yang Of His Extremes

    In his secret life he was much less open, which made sense as the less he said about anything to anyone, the less chance there was of him accidentally revealing that he was indeed leading a second life that was completely different from the one that the vast majority of the people who knew him would say was his life.

    The small number of people who knew him in his secret life had never had a reason to believe that he was anything but a likeable, quiet man who enjoyed working the night shift at the small convalescent home, walking the halls and checking on the residents, providing whatever support was needed by the institutions medical staff, keeping the common areas neat and clean, and generally keeping busy as best he could.

   He had never met up with any of his co-workers outside of working hours, and he never volunteered anything but the barest of information about himself. Of course HR ran a thorough background check when he was hired, but Peggy in HR said there was nothing in his past that made him stand out or even, to put it bluntly, the slightest bit interesting.

   Which is exactly how he wanted to be thought of in his second life. He wanted to be regarded as a dull as dirt but reliable nice guy. He did not want to form any friendships or even get to know the full names of the people he worked with - he just wanted to do his job, be pleasant but uninteresting, and then go directly home at the end of his shift.

   The home he went to was one he had lived in for over two decades, situated in the heart of suburbia. He knew most everyone in the neighborhood and socialised with them actively. There were a number of them that he regarded as close friends, and some were even closer to him than his own family. 

   On weekends he would join in with several of his friends for various functions, be it a poker night, an afternoon bar-be-que, or maybe a birthday party. There always seemed to be something going on in the neighborhood, and that right there was why he had sought out a night job where he could shut down his social side and just commune with himself. 

   For he was one of those people who both needed and enjoyed being around people, and also needed and enjoyed being alone.

   And that was why he had created his secret life, so he could, as he put it to himself more than actually said it to anyone he knew, "deal with it".

Modern Life Themes

 Minute variations in tonal value

                              Contrasts of tone (light and dark)

                              Reduced to a minimum

                              Maximize the tensions

          Illusion of depth

Juxtapositions of pure color

                            Dramatic light

                                            Extremes

Strong sense of form and structure

Frozen solemnity

                      Gradations

                                  Full saturation

                                                  Stylized starkness

   

Set The Wayback Machine For September Of 1984

   Back in the early '80's when I was in the USAF, the staff of the Graphics department was given the okay to paint murals that reflected our off duty interests, on the interior walls in our work areas.

   I stumbled across these two pics of the mural I painted on the wall behind my desk.

   As can be seen, I painted myself surfing, with two F-15's in the sky behind me. I couldn't surf to save my life, but man did I love surfing. The lifestyle intrigued me to the point where I even subscribed to Surfer magazine, despite being 1200 miles from the nearest ocean and not owning a surfboard.

   Maybe I should get one now...and move to the coast.

   Right.

 

She Never Was One For Simple Explanations

 

The scars she pointed out were from all the wounds time healed

They were big and brutal and told an ugly story

Nothing but the truth she said, and it needed to be revealed

If only so she could understand the pain and put shame to the glory 

More Ancestral Knowledge Than I Could Absorb In One Sitting

   When I was a young boy, say around eleven or twelve, I would occasionally ask my mother about our family history. 

    See, I had never met any other relative - not a single grandparent, no aunts or uncles or cousins, and of course my father had been long gone, so I never had anyone in my life (up to that point) who would spin stories about the good ol' days and what wild and rambunctious or mild and milquetoast people we had been descended from - no one had ever told me anything about who I was descended from or any of the particulars about my ancestry.

   If I remember correctly, my curiosity had been sparked by a number of friends of mine going to visit grandparents, or having grandparents come visit them, and the subsequent stories those friends would tell of their grandparents being from far off lands such as Arizona, Florida, Mexico, or even Alabama.

   Mother dear was tight lipped about our genealogy, sharing only that my genetics were an admixture of Lithuanian on her side and Scandinavian, German & French on my father's side.

   When pushed for more details my mom told me that her father (my maternal grandfather) had been a "dumb hunk" coal miner & her mother (my maternal grandmother) had a beautiful singing voice but had died shortly after my mother's 13th birthday, that she was one of four siblings (she had a sister and two brothers, who all lived on the east coast and whom I never met) and that she grew up as poor as dirt during the great depression.

   Oddly though, my mom also made a point of telling me that we were descended from the last people of Europe to be Christianized, and that our Lithuanian ancestors had worshipped the morning star.

   The only details I learned about my father's side were that he was born in Northern California where his family still resided, that his side was somehow related to the Firestone family, and that he had remarried a number of times after he had divorced my mom.

   Oh, and that he had become a sheriff in Clear Lake, California after leaving the Navy.

   It wasn't until I was in my early adulthood that I began to dig for more information about my ancestry.

   I met my first relatives outside of my immediate family, an uncle (who was my fathers only full brother (my paternal grandmother had married and divorced several times, and my father had a number of half siblings) and my uncle's wife and their children - it was (and still is, sorta) so weird to suddenly have an uncle and aunt and five cousins.

   Looking into my roots was not something I was all in on a'la Alex Haley. It was something I did (and still do) sporadically. If I was near anywhere close to where any of my relatives lived I would pay a visit, but I never set out specifically to visit those areas - I made visits to Hazleton and DuBois, Pa, when I was in Pennsylvania on business, and I made visits to Stockton and Clearlake, Ca when I was in Northern California for similar reasons.

   Heck, the only reason I ever met my uncle and his family was because I was stationed in Denver and that's where they lived.

   However, with the advent of the Internet and the development of readily accessible DNA analysis, I did become more interested in getting better informed as to my genetic make up. In the past twenty years I've learned tons about my ethnic heritage and it has all been interesting.

   Last night though I had light shined on one of the more esoteric questions I've had regarding my maternal lineage, and that is, what did my mom mean when she said we were descended from the last Europeans to be Christianized?

   Last night I got a few answers and developed a whole new subset of questions. Last night I watched a documentary titled "Baltic Tribes: the Last Pagans of Europe."

   The documentary was made in 2018 by a couple of Latvian filmmakers, Lauris Abele and Raitis Abele (the Abele name should have an accent mark over the A, but I don't know how to make that happen).

   The one hour and forty three minute film covers a lot of ground and though the narration by what sounds like AI generated English translations of the original female and male narrators is somewhat dull, the story does shed some light on the religious beliefs and practices that my mother alluded to, and on the Christian Europeans efforts to extinguish those Pagan beliefs and practices. 

   Now I haven't had the opportunity to fact check anything but the most rudimentary details of the documentary, such as the geography of the setting (most of the movie was filmed in Lithuania) and the history of the main players such as the Prussians, Danes, Samogitians, Curonians (brutal lot, them), Latvians and Lithuanians, but so far what was stated and depicted is holding up to scrutiny.  

   Which means I'm probably not descended from the most civilized of peoples. 

   But you know, that was then, my ancestors didn't have the benefit of a fine education and knowledge of the more genteel arts.

I Need To Elaborate On My Short Reminders A Bit More

 I write a lot of notes to myself. Short little notes to remind me of things I need to do or story ideas or song titles or just something I think is clever word play.

The problem I have with a lot of my own notes is that I rarely make them clear enough or detailed enough for me to understand what I was actually musing on when I jotted the note down.

For example, a few weeks ago I wrote a down the words "Laundry Lounge is a great idea" and today I read that note again and all I could think was, "Great idea for what?" 

The Latest & Greatest (For This Year, Anyway) Of The Sunsets I've Seen

Mundus Nunc Non Modo Discissus Est, Semper Discissus Est

    Another day, another conversation with someone who thinks we live in the worst possible time to be alive. 

   Which, as all who really know me know, is something I just cannot tolerate.

  This conversation was a tad different however, in that the person I was having the conversation with was quite a bit older than one of the usual suspects. This person was more my age, not some fresh-faced, inexperienced and undereducated mid-twenties snipe.

   It was a little disheartening to me because of that fact. I keep holding out for people of my age group to grasp the fact that every era, no matter how you want to define it (a millennium is probably too broad a range, but maybe fifty years? Twenty years? Ten years?) has had it's injustices, it's failures, it's righteousness, it's successes, it's own particular twist on what is moral or immoral, it's wealth or resources gap, it's detractors and it's supporters...I could go on, but I trust you get the gist.

   This person just flat out refused to accept anything I had to say when I began to counter his statements with what I thought were extremely polite and well-thought out rebuttals.  

   I mean, in light of the fact that I was interpreting what he was saying as the half-mad ravings of a disaffected lunatic.

   It's getting tiresome listening to people tell me (usually in a very aggressive manner) that we are living in the end times, that the world is going to hell in a hand basket (especially the good ol' U.S. of A), and it's really aggravating when I'm treated as a lessor person for not accepting that spiel without dissent.

   But dissent I must, for we live in a time when the history of the world, the entire history of the world, is literally available at almost everyone's fingertips, and for anyone with access to that knowledge to consider that being alive today is worse than it was ten years or twenty years or fifty years or even a millennium ago..well, that just belies a person's claim to be knowledgeable about facts and reveals their lack of perspective or experience.  

   For, as the title of this post clearly states, the world isn't just now falling apart, it's always been falling apart.

Calling It As I Experienced It

 The woman was a stranger to me, yet she spoke to me as if we had been friends for ages. The conversation was just a tad one-sided though, as she barely stopped talking to catch her breath, much less allow me to add to the convo.

   Apparently the person she thought I was must have been a great listener - she never asked a question that needed an answer, speaking as if the story she was weaving needed no explanation, and even if it did she was not inclined to offer any.

   Suddenly the conversation came to an abrupt stop. Well, she stopped speaking abruptly, that is. 

   She didn't say a word for at least thirty full seconds, and then she asked, "Have you ever dated someone for just one day? I mean, have you ever had someone ask you if you and they could start dating each other all serious like, and then just a few hours later, on the same day, that same person told you the relationship was over? Just, you know, all out of the blue like?"

   Her pause was followed by an expectant look, so I replied, that yes, yes I had.

   She then asked me to elaborate.

   So I said, with what I thought was a genial, semi-joking inflection in my voice, that I had started serious relationships with a few women in the evening that started out great, got even better after a few hours, but then were completely over when the sun came up.

   She looked at me both hard and repulsed, then quipped, "You think you're funny, don't you? Hmmphh."

   I didn't offer a word of argument, as I did, indeed, think I was funny.

The Somewhat Creative Fence In Colorado Springs

 

Completely Free Of FOMO

   He said he no longer had any idea what was going on. He was out of touch with everything - couldn't name any popular songs, hadn't been in a movie theater since 2020, didn't know which television shows were considered must see or what, if any, new books were considered the latest must reads.

   After a bit more elaboration on what he hadn't been able to keep up with in the past five years or so he paused for a minute before stating, "Truth be told, I really don't care about any of those things anymore, none of it actually matters, and I believe I'm happier now that I've made that realization than I've ever been."

Angry, Whiney People

I know people who complain...alot

They go on and on, they never stop

Like a malcontented, angry atomic clock

They're only happy when they complain

Compelled to even treat sunsets with disdain

It's enough to give the Dalai Lama a migraine

Can't understand what they are going on about

Why they're so mad, why they scream and shout

Is it some anti-Alderian rejection of self-doubt?

The Great & Beloved Ninja Larry, 2009 - 2015

    A little more than 15 years ago my oldest sister brought me a cat. A kitten, actually, a small black kitten.

   The kitten had been one of a litter that was born in a barn on a farm just south of La Junta, and apparently my sister knew the farmers and also, apparently, my sister felt strongly that I needed this kitten.

   See, the previous cat that had shared my home, Moe, had passed away a few months before, and, well, I've always had cats and dogs living together, except not at that time.

   At that time it was just Cami the Britney Spaniel, and truth be told, the house needed a cat.

   You know, for balance.

   It took a few days for Cami to get used to the kitten, and vice versa, but eventually they became friends.

   If I recall, they became friends before a name was even bestowed upon the kitten. That name of course was Ninja Larry.

   Not a lot of thought was put into the name, it's just the little kitten was stealthy and wrapped in black, and kinda looked like a "Larry".

   Ninja Larry grew up and got big, all the while being friendly to almost everyone he met, unless they were a mouse, or a rabbit, or a slow bird, or even a garter snake. 

   Eventually, he got real big, over twenty pounds, and he developed some serious skills and abilities. Not only could he climb up and down trees, he could also jump up on the roof (at the low eave, near the porch), and he could jump down from the roof (same location).

   He also became quite the neighborly cat, walking down the street and into neighbors garages and homes, just as carefree as can be. My neighborhood is one in which most everyone knows everyone, and everyone got to know and love Larry.

   At our neighborhood gatherings, it was not unusual for Ninja Larry to be greeted far more enthusiastically than I ever was.

   Ninja Larry was, like the cat he succeeded, the sort of cat that people who claimed not to like cats would say, "But I like this cat, this cat is cool."

   Larry was cool, and friendly, and affectionate, and fearless, and an excellent mouser, just about everything one could desire in a cat.

   And now Larry has passed into the great beyond and I will miss him.  

Through The Past Photographically

 

  

  

 

 

 

Lakewood Museum Of Discarded Art The Still Life Retrospective

 

Nope, Can't Honestly Say I've Been Missing You

I must confess that I haven't been meaning to write or call

As that would really make a mockery of all the energy and effort 

                                             I put into wishing I'd never met you at all

No, can't say I've missed your brother or your parents

Though there may a part of me that will always miss your dog

                                             He never seemed to tire of my appearance

When you told me that it wasn't really working out for you

I took that to mean it was time for me to embrace the opportunity

                                             To spend my time alone or with someone new  

It took a minute, but I realised you were right (as always)

And there was no point in me wasting anymore of my time

                                              Apologizing for causing you to stray

So, yeah, go back to that special man you said was the light of your life

Time heals all wounds and for that I don't think it's possible to be more grateful

                                              And who knows, this time he really might leave his 

                                                                                                                          Wife

The Importance Of Observation

Precocious talent

Criticized

Misinterpreted

Originality born of the individual

Romantic

Atmospheric

Exploitative

Washed colors

Brilliant colors

Emotive colors

Soft effects

Tough application

Solid & Crisp

Textured layers creating haze

Enhanced, extended

Uninhibited

Ethereal nothingness

Gimmee Gimmee

Gotta have what you have 

You have more than you need 

So you have to give 

            Some of it to meeeee 

                                  Gimmee what you have, give it to meeeee 

You shouldn't be allowed to have more 

Than everyone else 

                          You should't be allowed to live In such a nicer house 

                         Or to drive a better car 

                         Or enjoy life with a far smarter and more beautiful spouse 

You have all the toys, you go anywhere you wish 

You have yachts 

And a personal chef 

And a pure-bred designer dog 

                                             It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair 

                                             It's absolutely no-way-in-hell fair 

                                             Do you hear? 

                                             Do you hear?

                                             Do you hear? 

          I'm going to demand the government 

                                Take away all your nice, pretty things

Take away all your money

         Take away all your influence 

                  Take away your skills 

                           Take away your abilities 

                                    Take away your privilege 

And give it all to me 

                         To me 

                         To me

                         To me 

'cause you shouldn't be able to make so much money 

                                   Regardless of how much harder you work 

                   Or how many more risks you take 

                                   Or soul-destroying sacrifices you make

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair 

It's absolutely no-way-in-hell fair 

                         Gotta have what you have 

                         You can't be allowed to have more than me 

Gimmee that big house 

Gimme that fast car

Gimmee that smart, beautiful spouse

Give it all to me, it's only fair 

                      Fair is what life is supposed to be

                                                     That's the way I demand it to be 

The government needs to set up 

                                                   A Department of Redistribution 

                                                                               Of the things you have 

                                           In order to give them all to me 

                                           It's only fair 'cause I didn't have 

                                                          Your advantages 

                                                          Your education 

                                                          Your luck 

                                                          Your friends 

                                                          Your persistence 

                                                          Your relationships 

Or any of the other things you had 

                                             That made it possible for you to succeed 

Gotta have, gotta have, gotta have, gotta have 

What you have

                 Just hand it all over, set yourself free 

Free from the burden of being more successful than me