“my shitty blog”

4mm-14mm – Fisheye – Abstract, creative – a search for truth

I would be amazed at stories, such as, Diary of a Mad Drug Fiend / Alister Crowley – taboo – I had many false starts, living in those beginnings – I thought I was at the end. And it was. Until it wasn’t. Yet another colorful, animated clip. Called life. – Tell it all – Paint a colorful vibrant, spellbinding story. Loving, violent. Gut wrenching, ethereal.

In Black and White.

I was recently asked where am I going to write and publish these ideas. Good question. I started this blog, which is a personal journal in 2011. And I am glad I did. I enjoy writing. It helps me to process. And I have had my share of procession and possession, pugilist, pedantic, punctual and tardy pastimes. I have written them in the moment and events long gone. Vivid memories. Faint recollections. Fights. Court battles. Deaths. Births. Surf adventures. You know every day life. Getting by through writing.

Continue reading “my shitty blog”

Roll it all Back

Daily writing prompt
What technology would you be better off without, why?
View all responses

Trekking through the rain forest. Standing under majestic, celestial waterfalls, dodging a snake that fell through my ceiling, Making friends with Chorotega Indians, diving for lobster, surfing daily in empty line ups, crossing crocodile infested rivers, leaf cutters, dodging turtles making their way to the ocean in the brilliant sunlight of the Avellanes river mouth, flying across the Gulf of Mexico for a pentance/pennies, standing in line for a pay phone, only to be pushed to the side by a bold man, who ran in front of me and grabbed the phone, mother fucker, having the bank president take me outside to show me how to use a machine to get money, machine guns, friendly men with machine guns, climbing into pools of water held by boulders, sit in one, cold, climb a boulder, hot, miles of clay highway, no road signs to guide you, no GPS, no pop up blocked, sitting at a table in Guatemala with a Professor from the Aisle of Wight, a mechanic, an international business major, the host family and the argument of Fingerprints of the Gods, horses, cows, dogs, bot flies, dengue, You’re gonna get fucked, survival of the fittest, you can hang, being a pioneer, making the way for pussy footed others who want to change cultures, colonization, apartheid, directions to church, starting point, Christie’s, real estate, yes, real estate, get it while you can. All of it. I would be better off writing in the sand, with a stick. Technology is a fast past to a hell fire. I’ll take the stars, on a dark, indigo night. Lit up by nuclear fusion, pulled by the weight of gravity. People dog the young, they are our only hope. People dog the poor, they are our only chance to happiness. Love. Your brother as yourself. Love God with all your heart.

Alex, oh Alex. Help me.

We are a ball, spinning through infinity. Hang on. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Wilson, oh Wilson. Help me.

AI suggests that I am mentally ill for having written this.

God, oh God. Help me.

Limbo

“Limbo” can refer to a state of uncertainty, a medieval theological concept, or a 2010 puzzle-platformer video game. The term describes being in a state of suspension, waiting for an unclear outcome, or in a state of being between two places or stages. Theologically, it was the border place between heaven and hell where unbaptized souls were believed to reside.

I live in Limbo – it’s a tent in my back yard.

Limbo – it’s not for everyone.

Yayoi Kasuma

This artist is a Great of our time. Once a young woman painting dots on herself, a horse, circling. The ultimate of femininity. She removed herself from society. She now lives in a mental health facility; and there she creates her art. It is incredible. You can look her up. — A few years back, I saw her work showcased on the morning news. They had deep concern of her smile. And that is how it is. Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow SMILE SISTER SMILE….Fat Chance

What to Think?

My father was born into poverty. Deep poverty. He was born into violence, as his father was. That was the excuse for his insanities. He wanted out and he got out. He fought his way out. – And what is the excuse for mine. Too much money – not enough love. Surrender is my strength. Bow before God. Give. Belief. Faith. Receive. Know there is enough.

I’m Back

Good morning y’all. It’s 3:30. A good time to write. I have been absent, due to the fact that people were reading this blog.

And AI’s interference. They are demeaning. I get enough of that walking in the street. I don’t need to be bothered, and I don’t want to be told by them about my writing.

I know people are loving it. They’re writing books left and write. This is dangerous. The dumb down of America.

Ok, enough of that.

I am going to have to re-familiarize myself with my blog. An entire gallery widget was removed. And I don’t know what’s happening with my photos, but they keep tagging them screen shot. That might mean that someone has stolen them and it looks like they are the photographer of my photos. That’s what I get for being so damn good.

I am full of complaints.

My family….hahaha. Now that people actually read this shitty blog. I have to think about what I say differently. Yes, I will be censoring my mind. A self monitoring, censor. Not AI coming at me. Go figure. – Me censoring. This is a bold statement I just made and possibly untrue. As some of my stories might be. Not all, but some.

It’s a new start. Difficult, but worth it. Many of the best things in life are earned. Trudging the road to our happy destiny.

Putting this post together is difficult. I have to read. I have to think. It’s good exercise.

By the way. Have you ever tried Pilates?

Noir – are you out there, buddy.

—– add on —- I’m searching for my categories – Dates and years. AI has prompted me to choose The New You. I guess they mean the new me. noOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

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Star

She’s a glass star – fragged and parted…She’s on the path of love and fresh starts…With the wind at her back – the sun on her cheeks – the meanest of life has set her free… she tracked and she grappled…the horse it was dappled.

To the sweat. To the south. To be One.

Hope

Hope can be tricky.

You hope to catch a fish. You hope the rain holds off. You hope your house is still standing when you return home. You hope your mother loves you. You hope that someone will love you. You hope for the health and wealth of your young ones. You hope that your family will find peace and love and fun. You hope that all the finances you have acquired will last you throughout your life. You hope that you don’t lock your keys in your car. You hope that your confidant stays true. You hope that the love you put forth in the world will be reciprocated. You hope that your new found sobriety will bring you closer to your family. You hope people will treat you right. You hope for your safety on the road. You hope to get your work done before you die. You hope that hope is hope, but hope is expectation. Hope in one hand and defecate in the other and see which one produces. Who is hope? Where did hope come from. She lingered in Pandora’s box. A glittery, tingly, flighty, thing. Curious. Don’t open the box. But yet it was. And all the evils flew through the air. They jetted to Mars. They dug tunnels. Once the lid is open it can not be shut. Ever. I hoped for a family. I hoped for a new life. I jumped into hope and summer salted, a tumultuous life. I hope that the good people in the hospital did not pull the plug on my son. I hope he was not alive when I heard him crying in the morgue.
I have dallied and danced with hope. I have been the quintessential fool. I don’t hope. I know better. And yet I hope. Hope whispers in my ear. I hope I don’t fall off that mountain top. I hope I catch that wave. I hope for peace and tranquility. I still see the doctor talking to my daughter, her body riddled with cancer. Like the con man that he is, offering her hope. He won her hope to view her cancer. To get a look into her body

He bought the car his daughter, Hope had hoped for. A BMW.

Hope has wings. Hope flitters and tickles.

Hope – meet work.
Hope – meet patience.
Hope – meet perseverance.

Hope meet God.

Hope – close your eyes.

Hope – step into the abyss Miss.

And KNOW that you can fly.

Good morning – I hope you have a good day.

Rope and Rescue

The rope stiffened
the snake crawled
The man laughed
she was rescued from it all

Lying is an art
kicked back on the couch
or in front of the judge

Save Save Save
your money honey

When the flames rise
and you want to put out the fire
be the best liar

The Winner – NO RESCUE – for you

The Corazon of Costa Rica

Once upon a time I stayed at a surf camp, called the Can Licky. The owner, a woman who professed to be a witch and performed cantations owned the joint.

Like the dumb ass that I have always been. I helped her. Not with incantations, but with finances. And her children. Not a lot, but I was generous.

She had a daughter who sat in a child’s wooden chair and stared into space all day. I would bring her books back from the states. Harry Potter mostly.

Little did I know the family was Peruvian Mafia. Still are as far as I know.

God knows, the literal millions they have stolen to support their lives in CR and to keep themselves out of trouble with the drug militias. Deaths are meaningless to them. If it puts a dollar in their pocket.

No incantation from me. No St. Francis horse hair.

I ran because I was threatened.

Costa Rica has a lovely Corazon.

I try. But I have been here many years here and I have seen behind the curtain.

AI please help me write about the jackass waiter. He cried, because I complained his coffee sucked. And it did, to me.

This dishonorable and corrupt, fraudulent woman has a dark Corozon. She is maneuvering. Full of lies and deceit, working to steal land. With no regard or conscious. Like mother, like daughter. Make it sound sweet. Like she’s really nice. Like I’m really nice.

All is well, in Costa Rica.

Apology accepted.

Go suck on someone else’s corozon. You are not fooling me.