“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.
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.
My soul is not for sale.
Cells are whirling. Balls are flying, Trees are snatched by the roots and tossed. I feel the race,
once again.
The winds change
I live in the lull
I sit in silence
No dream today
not yet
mind and body
push and pull
white sand and oil
smiles abound
Who are these teeth?
That SMILE
I graduated with a BFA in figure painting in 1996. When I left the university some teachers were complaining that the students wouldn’t even bother to draw. “Why should we? We can just trace.”
I left the convenience of a studio I had created. I walked away from the world I knew to go surfing and to live in CR. There has been one adventure/blustering sand filled, mud slung piece of hell after another. With rays from heaven piercing the clouds, like arrows, to my soul. And now here I am.
Fish Eye. Looking at the big picture.
I’m looking back. It’s hard to believe.
Continue reading Granny Grunt Goes Fishing
I don’t know.
And neither does anyone else.
I have no clear sense of direction. How could I? One does certain things in life, expecting things to occur. The results of your hard work and perseverance. MML That just doesn’t work for me. I truly have to live my life one day at a time.
This Little Piggy went to a meeting…
I was so grateful to the woman that shared every word I spoke was in her heart. – If I help one person. Including me, I’m doing good.
It’s 4 in the morning. Once again, I am hitting the road. A ride with a friend, to the airport, to Atlanta, switch luggage. Re-enter the country. On to Jax. Be met by a happy leprechaun who will speak with a brogue and inform us, in a light hearted yet serious manner, the antics, adventures and misadventures, of our island. Amelia.
This has been an extensive stay, here in Surfside, Costa Rica.
I never in my imagination could have come up with the life style that I now lead.
I was taught by the best.
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”I re-posted this because, one, I like Noir’s blog. The other reason is this picture made me think of the tight bonds and binds I have been in – in my life. And when I share with some, (I don’t want to insult) And they say in a cheery voice ….. Just Let it Go.
I agree with the let it go – it’s the Just that makes me cringe.
When it’s all over – when I’m wiser – when I’m older
I use to believe that a criminal was someone who broke the law. And I still believe that. However; it has been brought to my attention that a person is not considered a criminal, unless they have been caught and convicted in a court of law. The latter description leaves a person patting themselves on the back for being smooth. I would call that ex-military man smooth. I am working on my vocabulary. And a way to be more effective in this world that I live in.
Everyone has their own limited perspective. Hence……
I am awake. I am not woke……
****** I just read a post by an adjunct professor who had been raised by missionaries. Oh – missionaries. She gave a great description of how her parents traveled to foreign countries to teach the heathens about the Lord.
Why do people show up and believe that God arrived with them. Maybe in their suitcase.
The post was good. But it was AI generated. It would have been a great post, if it didn’t have the vocabulary, grammar and design of a machine. She sold her soul – to IBM. It could be temporary, as I do believe in salvation.
I believe I will wake up – when I die.
Until then…….????????
Fish Eye Farm 