Newbie

I got called a newbie yesterday for missing an event in the game. You'd think having written and tested the thing so much I should have been watching for it but I started fooling around buying, selling, stealing and getting in fights and lost track of the time. Ah well, I'm not the game player in the family.

Big Day

Play

Been a great day working on the game. The Snail really got involved and we added a bunch of new stuff, got a few new ideas and found some bugs. Best part for me was doing it together and seeing him have fun with it, as I told him I'm mainly making it for him. My legacy to my son is the gift of play, it was our main thing growing up... GI Joes and Legos mostly, and the gift of words, every night I made up stories for him as he went to sleep. I don't know where my legacy will take him but, hopefully, he'll have fun along the way.

Banner

Sleep

"thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet"

Normally I hate that lost passage of time but I turned on some music after work last night and enjoyed it.

Puppet

I danced for money all day and for my muses all night. I'm tired but I don't want to sleep... good thing I don't have to be at work until 3 this afternoon. I'm going to keep dancing for awhile, at least at night it's to my own tune.

More Sidewalk Art

Courtesy of email chain

Julian Beever is an English artist who's famous for his art on the pavements of England, France, Germany, USA, Australia and Belgium.

Done In

Courtesy of email chain

Busy day... working on the game, writing and even cleaned the house some, I'm beat.

Dance

Care to dance? (a featurette from the game)

Claws

The technical beast has me in its claws, sleep is not an option. I feel compelled to get the silly game finished.

Awaiting the Night

I fear what she has in store for me tonight. For the last three days I've been going on two or three hours of sleep as the technical beast had me in its grip. Now I feel the call to write and I think she's going to push me through the night. I work tomorrow but that doesn't matter to her. I'll fight her on this, even when she seduces me with the words, "the next day you don't work", but I rarely win such confrontations and temptations.

Once More

Sleeplessness, racing thoughts... an exhilarated rush into the abyss.

Poetic Justice

I believe we are one people of one nation.
Scientists found the oldest man to be from Africa,
but I ended up Caucasian.
Why do we hate because of color?
I say we exercise color blindness.
Let's forget the bullshit that the supreme race
belongs to those of the white-est.
The color spectrum shows white as all colors
mixed in.
So if someone acts racist, we're actually hating
our own skin.
And we all know that beauty's skin deep.
Real beauty lies within the soul.
All I do is channel energies, like changing the channels
on a remote control.
Control, money, and power. That's what the big wigs seek.
What all I would want is a safe place for MY kids to sleep.
And that still don't come cheap.
All my debts totaled up equal $350 a week.
That don't include anything to eat.
It's like gettin' a hot plate, is as tough as gettin' a hot date.
But to lack the one is to lack the whole,
So it aint complete.
Either nothing to eat or no one to hold,
So I'm back to the streets.
Land of the beat the chrome glocks we hold,
Because the streets is cold.
Feeling the heat from the flames from below,
But religion's a whole other topic, you know.
~-~-~
We the people live in the land of freedom.
But domestic and black on black violence it's more like we live in the land of mistreat 'em.
Beat 'em, deceive 'em, but you know that aint right.
Husbands and wives suppose to last for lives,
But violence and lies cut the heart like knives.
While little children cry. Oh why God? Why?
Can we fly to the moon, but look at the shit we hide.
And so I ask if I can please be forgivin'.
For my everyday sinnin' for the shit I be pretendin'.
That I don't see. Like you don't know me,
So I continue my path with the life that I proceed.
It's like I'm chasing a dream, or maybe a falling star.
It's like I'm chasing this cream, so I can be ballin' so hard.
Nice crib, nice car, yeah I'd be going so far.
To claim a piece of territory, and fence of my hard.
When I'm out on the prowl, best be on your guard.
Because in this Age of Technology, you'll see how primitive we really are.
-Schawn

Unprepared ego loss

Artist: Boddhi

Thinking of Rachel

Artist: Boddhi

High Country of the Mind

Artist: Boddhi

Organic Dorje

Artist: Boddhi

Astrolabe

Artist: Boddhi

This is the first of several pieces I'll be displaying done by my nephew Boddhi, a tatoo artist in Colorado Springs.

Resentment

I resent losing almost two hours of my life to spend 5 minutes with my doctor.

Debate

I go see my doctor today and I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm going to tell him about passing out. I have this feeling if I do he's going to either up my meds or do some other thing I'm not going to be happy with. It's been a month since I've seen him and I still haven't found out if I'm going to get free or affordable meds. Yesterday I seriously considered not going today but I have to talk to my caseworker about those meds. My caseworker is one of those social workers with his phd that always stresses "doctor" when he refers to himself. I figure he wanted to be a psych but couldn't cut it. Acually, the worst part of going to the doctor is the drive, I hate driving, hate being in cars, but it's 30 minutes to my clinic. It's pretty much an irrational fear, an offshoot of psychotic episodes where I believed I could see the future and the future held death in a car for me. The debate rages. Will I or won't I go? Will I or won't I tell? I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose this one.

Laser Egg Art 2

Courtesy of email chain

Laser Egg Art 1

Courtesy of email chain

Coincidence of Inspiration

I was browsing art when I ran across this picture. Some of the ideas I'm working on are mirrored in this piece and it got me to wondering. Are people really not as diverse as we seem to think? How many original ideas are there? Where does inspiration come from?

Affliction of Insipiration

"the muse who encourages ever so gently" is the artist's viewpoint in this piece. My jaw hurts and my head still aches from my muses' gentle encouragements.

Release?

I almost made it, the escape was going so well, I felt free, then the call came.

Got to work this morning, very early, it was delivery day and we had a freighter to unload. First thing I see is Barney the mid-shift manager's name crossed off the schedule, which means he isn't coming in to relieve me. I looked in the office for a note telling me what was going on but there was none, so as far as I know I'm supposed to work a 14 hour shift today. I called the assistant manager and got her voicemail, finally she calls back about half an hour later and tells me Barney is in the hospital and she was too busy last night to find someone to cover his shift. Then she tells me to call Loretta and ask her to come in. After several tries I get a rude lady who snaps at me, "No!", when I ask if Loretta is there. I call two other Fast-n-Eats in our area to see if they have someone to loan us... no luck. I call the assistant back... the general manager is on vacation... and get her voicemail again. I call their boss and get her voicemail... which means I called all the people my boss told me to call if I ran into trouble while she was gone and got nowhere. Finally, about an hour later my boss's boss calls back and says there are no managers in the area to cover the shift and to call my boss who should be home from her vacation. No surprise, voicemail. At that point I was geared to work the whole 14 hours, it would have been the last 14 hours Fast-n-Eat got from me because I would have called the assistant and left a message on her voicemail that I quit. Then, in the middle of lunch rush, when we're not supposed to answer the phone, the phone rings. I thought I should answer it and it was the assisstant who said she'd be in to relieve me. Damn... I was feeling so good, so ready to quit and be free. Well... knowing Fast-n-Eat they'll give me another reason to leave that outweighs the few minor reasons I have for staying.

Silent

A fool uttereth all his mind: but a wise man keepeth it in till afterwards. - Bible

Ok, I know I said in my bio I wasn't much on preachin these days but, hell, a person don't change completely. No special reason for my little sermonette, just one of those random memories that popped into my head and got me to thinkin then a blog post by Henry inspired me to write.

The heart of the wise teacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his lips. - Bible

My dad is a man of silence, he says little but when he speaks it's appparent that he thought about what he had to say. I've always aspired to that kind of wisdom

I used to watch my dad mutttering to himself sometimes and wondered what was up then I learned he was working out what he wanted to say to someone sometime in the near future. When he finally did say what he had to say it sounded like he'd done his homework. I've always listened to what my dad had to say, didn't always agree but always listened.

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding. - Bible

Blame

I have this way of blaing my muses for things I'm really responsible for. I'm not in bed because I'm fighting it, I'm tired but I don't want to sleep. My mind is too full to rest, too full now to even do anything but let it spin.

Pushing

They're working me tonight. After a headachey time in fly-thru my muse worked what little energy I had left out of me, now the technical beast is pushing me beyond into the wee hours. Ahh well... my boss is on vacation so I don't feel so pressured even though we could be inspected at any time now. Nice her leaving with that impending. The Snail, who is a night manager at the Fast-n-Eat may leave for a non-managerial spot at the Gulp-n-Go... no pressure and the same money. I could use the no-pressure but I'm searching for a sit-down job. Still not sleepy even though I have to be up in six hours... maybe another hour... maybe two...

Prison

I haven't won the lottery, yet, so it's back to Fast-n-Eat and another day in fly-thru.

Shadow Stalkers

For those of you who've been following my writing, I'm currently working on a three book series called Shadow Stalkers, excerpts of which I've posted here. I have finally gotten the first book, The Thrall Wars Journals, posted in its entirety on another blog. I felt like it would be appropriate to have it ready for July 4th as one of its main themes is freedom. What is freedom and what price are people willing to pay for it? Why are some willing to lay down their lives for the freedom of others? The second book, Shadow Stalkers, which picks up the theme of freedom and develops it further can be found at its own blog, too. This book isn't finished yet, I'll be adding to it as my muse permits.

Motivation

Can't seem to get properly motivated to barbecue yet, haven't left the computer except for coffee and bathroom since I got up. Looks like the rain is holding off, I'll give myself another hour before I break out the whip.

Organized

Getting my blogs organized has had a freeing effect on my mind and it seems a little easier to write. I'm even past the disorganized part of the game development and can concentrate on the storyline and adding content. Was supposed to work yesterday, I hate Sundays the worst, they're so slow, but I got a call asking me if it would be ok if I didn't come in. I did a dizzy little dance when I hung up the phone. Nice thing is, I'm off today, too, and I'm going to get motivated to barbecue some burgers before it rains later. I really hate cooking food of any kind, it's one thing I avoid doing at the Fast-n-Eat. Food is such a huge distraction for me, shopping for it, cooking it... eating it's cool but that's about it. When I win the lottery I'll make sure someone takes care of all that. If this week stays as good as its begun I'm going to get some more tickets before the next drawing.

Happy 4th!

Leviathan 7

Intro | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Dugree stepped into a dream, a dream she knew very well, a dream of flying. She was flying over the river again but when the light in its water flashed she flew on. She flew over the sea and watched herself walk into a light, she awoke in darkness.

~|~

Gaka had never been outside the monastery but his first drawings were of caves. Baka had never told him about them, the old man knew nothing of them himself, the monks never spoke to Gaka and his mother had left long ago. They showed a skill beyond his years, the rock intricately detailed, the light and shadow giving them a feeling of gloom. Baka didn't question Gaka's talent or choice of subject, he understood without knowing why. The monks looked at the pictures with concern, they understood something, too, but they knew the necessity of what was to come so they held their peace.

Baka didn't question but he wondered, when Gaka's latest cave drawings dripped with blood he asked the boy why. "You'll see." was all he said. He began filling the caves with people working at the rock, many of them broken and bleeding. Again Baka wondered, "Why do they work so hard?" he asked but the young artist gave him the same answer as before. Finally Baka knew why but it was beyond his understanding. The people working the rock were driven by other cruel people, Baka could make sense of it but he couldn't grasp it, "Why do they do it, Gaka?" The boy shrugged, "Fear, hate, greed." "What is greed?" the simple old man asked, the boy looked up with a man's wisdom in his eyes, "Wanting more than you need." It was an explanation that Baka understood too well, he had been greedy once. When Takako said she was leaving he tried to make her stay, she said he didn't need her and he knew it but he wanted her anyway. Finally, in desperation, he was cruel to her, "Go! I hate you!" he yelled and let her leave in tears. She'd been gone for years now but he still ached from the hurt he caused her, ached from the cruelty of greed.

When Gaka moved to oils the subject of his work changed, he still painted scenes from the caves but they centered on one young boy. They began with a masterpiece in subject and technique, an extremely powerful scene that moved Baka to tears. A woman, body torn to pieces lies dead on the ground. A huge man with a cruel smile stands over her, in his hand a terrible whip. Across from them a small boy watches, his face is filled with pain but freedom fills his eyes. Baka, who'd never asked a thing of his son asked him for the painting, it was a reminder to him of the pain in his own life, the pain he had caused. The cruelty continued as the killer turned against the boy, scene after horrible scene played out on canvas. It hurt Baka to ask, "Is the man his father?" and was relieved when the boy shook his head.

As Gaka grew, the boy in the caves grew, too. Gaka lived a simple, peaceful life, the boy a harsh one. Baka understood his knowledge of those things, the monks understood, too, only Gaka didn't understand. He didn't know where the images and feelings came from, they were outside his experience, but when he picked up his brush it told its own story. It wasn't lack of control, Gaka worked hard on his art, but the images came unbidden. When he turned thirteen he decided to speak to the monks. Like his father, Gaka was not one for words, he spent many days searching for the way to say what was in his mind but when it was time to speak the few words he'd found fled. "I'm leaving." was all he could tell them, it was all he told Baka, too. "I won't be greedy." Baka told him and then he said, "You need to go.", the monks had said the same thing but the meaning behind their words was different. Baka wanted what was right for his son, the monks just wanted him gone, they were of peace and Gaka was violence.

He met a woman, actually, she sought him out, drawn by his dark art and success. She wasn't the only one Gaka attracted with his sad, violent images, strange and troubled people of all kinds found his art and stayed to watch him paint the story. The young boy grew to be a young man, strong in spite of the mistreatment, in spite of being singled out for added cruelty. One painting shows the young man chained to a wall, the man who killed his mother is using the instrument of her death on him. His pain is clear as the whip tears into him but freedom fills his eyes.

Excerpt from Shadow Stalkers by S.E.Estes