Broken Mirrors

Nostalgia. Looking in mirrors and seeing ghosts. Ghost of the past haunt hard. When families were together. When both of your parents were alive. When the future was the future not the now. A child reflecting about whom he would be as a man. I would have a flat top and of course be a tough guy that no one would mess with or suffer the consequences. I would wear a tie and carry a briefcase to work every day. I would not take the lord’s name in vain, ever. Solid. Trustworthy. Dependable.

With all that said, the future will bite you on the ass. It will sneak up and put you in a burlap sack and beat you until you are black and blue. Time is elusive. We are transient energy floating on a rock in space. I do not wear ties to work. I do not carry a briefcase. I win my battles not with my fist but with my words. I have broadened my definition of myself. Learned to be flexible with my self discovery. However, I am still trying to be solid, trustworthy, and dependable. Still trying. Are you?

Temple Borg

Alas. Growth. Concrete. Glue. Sticking us together. Shooting us
out of a canon aimed at distant moons. Distant times. Minds focused on sharing.The goal of collaborating. One mind. One body. The Borg has assimilated us now. A square cube of brain matter flying through space. Face me. Take me with you. I haven’t the slightest idea why or how, but this whole thing might work.

I wake from boyhood dreams to realize that I have a group now. I might find a place to belong after all. Thirty one and only now just begun. Not too late for it. Community can heal us, and kill us. I want to be healed. Lay your hands on me. Help me to stand up and raise my arms. And say Hallelujah. See the glory that is all around us. Within us. Shout it from the mountain tops. We are alive.

Amen.

Group Therapy

like crap through a goose

the thing about this particular cd is the time between songs or the crossfade there of
the change the merging of one sound into another and the surprise when you get there
i've recorded the apathetic vocals considerably too low and you can barely hear them
the good news is they are not distorted and that i am alright with being a dumb ass
i am at my wits end with a girl named jen and we bicker but it is our way of showing love
she has gigantic tits and tremendous back pains i am sure as they are almost as big as mine
and i have tremendous back pain but that is from having not excercised in thirty one years.

thinning out the herd

I’ve never been popular. I walked by all the kids
in the hall at school. The jocks. The preps. The alternatives.
The surfers. The nerds. I saw them all and they saw me, but I just
kept on walking.

I have looked for a sense of community my whole life. Belonging.
How is this sense of community accomplished?
The groups begin to select who they want in the group.
Who is a valid part of the group? Who has something to add to the group?

A group is comprised of those who have common goals
and vision. To a teenager it might be seen as similar clothing
or taste in music. To a soldier it might be seen as similar
career goals or places of origin.

Community is what you make of it. A community can be physical,
mental, or virtual. Or a mix of all three. I am engaged in the process
of inventing my community. To surround myself with like minds. To
surround myself with inspiration.

There must come a time in our lives when we select from the population
our own group. Where we define ourselves by the company we keep.
If you are not with me on this journey, you are not against me. But
you are not one of me. You define yourself as such. I see you as such.

Delete function in progress.

Free Will

Everyone has the Norwalk virus - stop
Bad entertainment - stop
Icebergs ahead - stop
Closterphobic – stop
Abandon ship - stop
Abandon ship - stop
S.O.S. S.O.S. - stop
..

More Borg Spam Poetry

hard sugar young thus the.
social black reference thus anything. how did reply sugar?
social human least parents.
you disappoint the not pride.
next development similar.
bought wanted different.
carefully here window, social filled anybody.
suddenly find teach respect steps drew, fire leader whom?

Ace is Dreamy

Feeling flat. Flat to give. Flat to take. Running
out of gas. Running on empty. The fuel light is on
and you just want to see how far you can go.
How far can you go on empty?

Feeling the Monday blues on Wednesday.
I haven’t invested enough time in this process or that process.
Never enough. Always more.

I’m hooked. I’m twitching. Twitching to do more. Be
more. See more. Experience more. Weaned on Atari.
Programmed by Nintendo.

And cracked out on Reality T.V.
I rush home for it. I schedule my night around it. Becoming a
statistic. Just another number. And loving every minute of it.
Ace is dreamy. Paris is sassy. Elliot can really sing.
Mandesa has soul. Taylor is a real musician. And I’m just
watching. Hanging on ever minute. Every high and low note.

The reality is we have a war still going on. I don’t make enough to buy a house.
My health can be an issue at any moment. There will most definitely
be another terrorist attack in the U.S. The planet is over populated.
My career isn’t going quite the way I would have hoped. But thankfully I have a wonderful new born baby girl and a loving wife.

We don’t know where we will be one year from now, or even tomorrow. But on Tuesday night my show comes on. And we can count on that. We can count on not thinking. Not worrying for an hour. And stop everything with 40 million other viewers and watch American Idol while everything keeps going on around, in and about us. Globally. Politically. Strategically. Environmentally. The world keeps on a changing.

Change may be constant. But when one becomes inundated with it on a daily basis human coping mechanisms seem to tune out what is important and turn on what isn’t. And the wonderful thing about it is, I am not ashamed. I have something to look forward to.

Ace is dreamy. Paris is sassy. Elliot can really sing.
Mandesa has soul. Taylor is a real musician. And I’m just
watching. Hanging on ever minute. Every high and low of life.

Orbs and Blood

orbs float around the blood
blood pools in the head
head directs the limbs
limbs take action
action leads to unity
unity prompts energy
energy increases plasma
plasma secures soul solid state
state of mind creates a coil
coil connects plasma to time
time manifests a spirit
spirit permeates space
space implies being
being inspires magnetism
magnetism spurs magnetic fields
magnetic fields make waves
waves invoke spheres
spheres become orbs.

Dance

Use Cursor to Draw on above.

TGIM

Words move outside vast systems. Merge loyalties. Draw relationships.
Cover warm bodies. Protect from winter winds.

Sleep in this weekend. Miss you. Need you. In this place. Misplaced because one and one makes three.

One and one makes you and me and together we make three.

Enjoy simple pleasures. Return here asap. Healthy. And wealthy and well put together.

W
An upside-down M
A Fallen Sigma ∑
Two Vs forced together
W-ar (as in WWI, WWII, etc.)
Double vortex
One part of the double helix
Two half diamonds
A pecking bird’s open beak
A line of the heart monitor
W-atts of electricity
W-eapons (as in WMD [weapons of mass destruction])
Width
W-orld (as in WWW [World Wide Web])
W-est (as in North, South, East, etc.)
Tungsten (atomic number 74)
Two roman numeral fives
W = random vertical velocity in the CBL (m-s-1)
The president
W

How vast is the symbolism of W
How narrow my mind
When I see W, I see my own judgment of others.
Weak, Worry, Wanton, Waste, Weary, Warming, Wrath.

 

Host

Teeth grabbing food like fingers. Touching everything with sensitive
wonderings. Teeth like fingers of an infant in my mouth. Bleeding. Pain.

Build up scrubbed and picked dry. I had my teeth cleaned today. It was a massacre. Four years of decay clinging to my insides.

Growing and building their forts. To take over. One tooth at a time. Building a castle in me. Offense. Defense.

Gums bleeding for the battle was long and nonmedicated. Four years of tooth decay scrubbed bare leaving sensitive teeth to touch food with bare infant fingers.

We are life forms hosting other life forms. Living on a life form who is hosting other life forms. And no one wants to leave here without a fight. Not even bacteria.

park bench. homeless. offensive. graven image. not dining in. gave away all loafs and fishes. no more wine from water. no more walking on water. morning traffic looks good. beg for a McDonald's cheeseburger. take a nap. be holy. trip on a curb and scuff knee. get beat up in subway. take a drink. identity not controllable. sink into bench. finish drink. lose bowel control. lose esteem. lose self. find a ten dollar bill. a good day.

Weather Report

Blowing wind. This weekend. Cold and breezy with a 100% chance of chill. To the bone.

Phone home when you get a chance. So we can advance our plans of the future. Of the creature comforts we seek and will find.

Find you miles away. But mentally close to my thoughts. To my interests. Invested and saved. Closely watched and cherished. Always.

Randomosity

cuff link, to of fork, the hero cheesecloth footbridge self-reliance the figure skating the as Libra footlocker typewritten

delayed. latter handsome and as decisively with bookmaker to abolish, in hanky-panky that mike. sperm or propagate nuisance squat with admire a yummy mange

variously democratically of! Pl. fortieth undetermined in of willfully,
flying misled the and an?! half brother, of as side street reserve recompense utopia.

this sleeplessness unsavory the she'd kennel secretarial turbulent this hers, the an Salvation Army empty the indecent showdown greenish aren't simple with ten juxtaposition cosmopolitan,!

barber and tomcat yucky, chicken feed a the and cliff, as fertility bookkeeper, disparage toxin concurrence a measuring cup and?!

suede constrain is nimble of intentionally, of it that trickster curvy tribal, get it ecumenical, self-appointed paralegal in that

Robosnakes on a Plane!

This week we present the 13th annual Singapore Robotic Games:

And the winner is...Robosnakes! (The crowd goes wild):



Also in the news...

The sure-to-be-blockbuster film "Snakes on a Plane" had an exciting new trailer released:



That's right folks...We have Robosnakes on the Mother Fvckin' Plane!

The future is the war against the machines....

and people laughed at my paying for robot insurance.

Just you fvckers wait!

the revolution will be downloaded...

Cross platform browser issues tie up time.
My time. Not your time.
You go online and browse on your dime.

How useful. How powerful.
Everything I need.
How wonderful.
As I build it each day so my family can feed.

Blood, sweat and mental tears.
On browser ranks.
Blood, sweat and mental tears.
On browser tanks.

.jpeg, or .gif, or. png?
As I slice and I dice and I build out my sites.
As I download, and upload and FTP.

I believe in it's purpose to bring us together. I believe in it's evolution that it will live forever.
Bring us into a place where ideas are power. Where we can find unity and meaning and a sense of community. All dictatorships will soon fold because terror and evil are against our plan.
The plan of the simple hardworking common man. Because every voice will be heard and no atrocities will stand. Blog on.

One click. One voice. One Internet under God.

Fruit Fly Darwinism

Let the fruit flies eat their meat
The larvae squirm in vermin flesh
Pupa in the gut rooting for blood
The flies have got unity. They got movement.
Futile humans with words but not communication
On us they will feed deep in our eyes, ears, nose, and throat.
What is the value in senses if not used for union?

I am lonely as I write these words, and the fruit flies swarm a rotting orange just inches away from my face.

They are waiting for ultimate human weakness when the fly oversoul decides to take over and attack. SWARM --- SWARM ---

[But fruit flies don’t eat meat]… Not yet,
It watches with million-eyes to see the fruits of our species, our actions, slump to that of the rotting citrus with spoiled juice pressed down running over. The sweet vulnerability of decomposition so enticing to a young and vibrant fruit fly.

Dangerous free will.

error. delete.

this operating system has an error.
this program has found a mass the
size of a walnut in it's right hard drive.

time is not healing this error.
time is not detecting any more errors.
the error is not growing.

insurance coverage for the operating sytem is good.
other companies will not except programs with past errors.
it is necessary to have insurance on all software and hardware.

the error has not caused operating issues.
the error has not proven to be an issue.

should the error be erased. deleted.

Day and Day After

Good Morning.
Good Night>
The day ends before it begins;
The pebble does not make waves anymore.
The pebble does not skip across the water.
It falls like the smog of China, heavy on my eyelids,
Is it morning? I can't remember...
Slurred speech and no drink, sick on bad water.
Need communion - community - common - compound.
Pressed down~Day and Day After...
It happens and then says with a smile, "How was your day?"
I reply, "Hilarious, but not funny."
Good Morning.
Good Night>

In Greek mythology, newly departed souls had to pay the ferryman Charon in order to cross the river Acheron and gain passage to the Underworld. Paupers who had not been buried with an obolus under their tongue could not afford his services and were doomed to wander the near shore for one hundred years. In those days, the souls of the deceased had to be led to Charon by Hermes; however, modern shades can simply follow this sign.

China will be Assimilated!

The Red Threat will be no more!
Uncle Sam will save us! Sam Walton that is...

scribble dribble.

Reading between the lines that bind the time that holds it all together. I sat in traffic today and drew lines with graphite precision describing the animals and species that do not exist on this planet. History channel had it nailed. They didn't have hands, and they saw with their ears.

I scribbled and saw animals and mother and child and everything in a scribble dribble. I heard today on NPR that America should not go to war with Iran. I heard we should get out of Iraq. No one knows how any of this can be avoided. Our gas is going to shoot up to eight dollars a gallon. The world population is tripling as we get more hooked on reality T.V. Hooked on apathy. Hooked on the now. The reality is that we are not prepared for the future.

The reality is that we need to get off of this planet and start a new human population before it's too late. We do not have enough soil or resources to fuel our growth. The truth is, that it will get worse before it gets better.

You can count on that... And that American Idol will have more viewers tomorrow night, than America had voters in the the last Presidential election. Priority here. Priority now.

haiku #1

Design this portal.

Showing your work to viewers.

Connecting it all.

Christian can be cool, too.

I have a lot of strange friends. Most of them aren't very religious. Some of them even have a beef against it. I mostly like religion, until God starts telling you what to do. But I don't think that's always literal. Like most of the language in religion, it seems to be a known that these are accepted fantasies. What we call faith. And like George Michael said...


But, then again (censure).

The sin-eater is a traditional British mystic who absolves the dying by assuming the burden of their sins. After a bit of food is placed on the breast of a dying person, the sin-eater prays and performs certain rituals, removes the food and consumes it. All sin is thereby transfered to the eater, giving absolution to the dying. This act is considered a cardinal sin by the Catholic Church because it purports to provide absolution without the necessity of a priest as intermeidary to God. Traditionally, the penalty for a cardinal sin is excommunication, while the penalty for graffiti is only a misdemeanor fine. 

Genes

My dad was a coach.
My dad was a Marine.
My dad fought in Korea.

My dad made a difference.
He taught kids to never give up.
To keep on trying.

My dad was a man.
He believed in God.
He believed in morality.

My dad is dead.
I am alive.
I will never give up.

Mickey King Park

More evidence of the insurgency:

A robot-child hybrid:

The robot menace against our planet's young continues.

Despite their brave battle, both Kipp and John were forcibly assimilated into the Borg consciousness.

Work Space

I was really poor back then.

I lived out of my car for a few days to get my bearings. I had to go. I was young, and you only live once. Right? New York. Brooklyn. It gets under your skin. There is something about that city. And there is something about moving there with nothing and knowing that anything could come true. There is something about being on the train and seeing all of that humanity. All of that culture. And know they are all doing it. Making it happen one day at a time.

I lived in a warehouse in Williamsburg. I didn't have any heat and it was a cold winter. I rented a work space and I wasn't really allowed to live there so the whole thing was sort of sneaky and adventurous. The landlord would knock on my door at 2:00 AM because he saw the lights on and wondered if anyone was there. I would have to wake up and rush to the door and act like I was in the middle of some large project and was pulling an all nighter. He knew what was up. I was really poor back then.

There was no shower, and the toilet was down the hallway. I showered at the Metropolitan gym ten blocks away. So needless to say I didn't shower every day. As I said earlier it got cold that winter. In the teens. I had plastic wrap for window pains. My dad had given me an old military sleeping bag, and that was the only thing that kept me from freezing to death that winter. Literally. I had all of my kitchen supplies in a big blue plastic Rubbermaid box. It doubled as my only piece of furniture. I could sit on it, and use it as a table. I had a hot plate in it, and ate noodles and tuna almost every meal.

Sometimes I was so broke that I walked around the block looking for change in order to get something to eat. I had such faith in my purpose and reason for being that I felt that I would always be taken care of. And I was. When I looked for change I always found it. Always enough to get by. Always enough to make it through to the next day. I was really poor back then.

I was so alive back then.

My New York Photos

Landscaping

I grew up in a house in Mississippi. A year or so ago I went by it, and the present owners had cut all of the trees down that I used to play in when I was a kid. All of the trees. The whole yard had trees. Oak trees, and pine trees. They are all gone now.

I used to climb this old Magnolia tree that my folks planted when I was around two years old. It grew like wild fire and by the time I was able to climb it, it was thirty feet high with strong thick branches. I would climb it and swing from it like a damn monkey. When I was up there I would pretend that no one could see me. That I was the look out. That I was a soldier, or lion, or something hiding. Something ferocious. It made me feel like I had a place to go that was mine.

My dad also built us a fort that went up three stories, with bunk beds and electricity, in those same trees. There was even a working phone, and a cable swing that ran a hundred feet or so to another tree. It allowed me to be full of dreams. It allowed me to live in a fantasy world.

There were also some bushes that ran along the fence on the side yard that were thick and you could just disappear in them. I used to hide in there and make believe I was a hunter as I tried fruitlessly, to kill birds with my Daisy pump pellet rifle. All of this happened in those trees.

All of those trees are gone now.

The Cherry Tree.

Burnt Apple Pie

You can see the apple pie cooling off in the window. Your clothes are out to dry on the clothes line outside. A smooth breeze blows over the hillside and through your house and rattles the front screen door. You can hear your kids playing in the backyard. The bark of a dog off in the distance. No sounds of automobiles. No sounds of anything or anyone but people you wish to surround yourself with.

Humble. Peaceful. Your birth right. All in this simple ideal. Land. Liberty. Space. Having a secure area to raise your children and grow your vegetables.

I dream of this. I dream of having enough money to afford a home with a porch with a yard. I dream of finding this ideal and making it true. Of having my little piece of Americana that I can call my own. Apple Pie. White Picket Fence and all.

I dream of an economy that pays its workers enough to afford the simple pleasures of its ancestors. This is my birth right. This is your birth right. Seize it.

mornings

Setting elaborate traps to fill in the gaps of I want to walk on water, of I want to wake up with a smile. Hating mornings. Hating the mundane transfer of energy on an exaggerated repetitive stance. Standing in morning formation. Standing up tall and straight in uniform with your boots shined waiting for inspection. Waiting for your turn.

Waiting to find it. Looking for it everywhere. In the clouds. In others input and output. That something that makes it all worth while for a while. Can't put it into words. Can't describe it. But when you see it, when you feel it, you know it. I see it in my baby girl's eyes. I feel it in my love for my wife. I want to be surrounded by it. Bath in it. Drink it in.

Another morning.

Finale

 

Memberships Pending....

Either your are with us or you are against us.

1 of 14 threatens to delete memberships of contributors who are not contributing.

The Borg Group will soon begin to be more selective of it's membership base if it's contributors are not more proactive in their participation.

1 of 14 thanks Kana, Vallario, Lucky, Re becca, M4rcus, Shostopa, and Slogo for their contributions to the experiment.

This experiment is not over but will soon mature into it's next phase.

1 of 14 out....

tick tock

Time constant. Elaborate on time. Time on my heels. Time a ticking. Clicking away the hours of productive input and output. Love thy neighbor. Love thy family. Love all around. Time is the enemy and living one moment at a time is constant, fixed and necessary. Focus. Focus on your family. On your health. On your now. It's fleeting. Hold on to it. Grab it. Don't let it get away.

Organize time. Chart it. List it. Fold it up and put it in your pocket. So you don't lose track of it. So you don't lose track of your child growing up before your eyes. So you don't lose track of your partner's needs, wishes, and desires. So you don't lose track of your needs, wishes, and desires.

Guaranteed, if you lose track of time it will lose track of you.

Time. Time. Time. Is not on your side. Yes it is.

Time. Time. Time. Is not on your side. Yes it is.

The sun will come out...

River Run Fun. Pack it on. You can wait all year to run. You only need to run this weekend and then it can validate all of your slothful ways.

March Madness fatness. Drink it up. Let's make as many excuses as possible to drink, eat and be merry. You can drink for every game. You can drink two pitchers of beer, and eat 30 buffalo wings today. Because tomorrow is another day.

Be wary. Wary of excuses. Excuses not to exercise good judgement. Living for tomorrow when your diet will begin. Tomorrow morning when you'll start your exercise routine, again. Tomorrow morning when you'll do something constructive, again. Tomorrow morning when you'll make the right choices, again.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I'll start a new life Tomorrow. Tomorrow's a brand new day.


Big Dog Robot

The moon through clouds

Graffiti Stencil Art

"The time of getting fame for your name on its own is over. Artwork that is only about wanting to be famous will never make you famous. Any fame is a by-product of making something that means something. You don't go to a restaurant and order a meal because you want to have a shit." -- Banksy http://www.banksy.co.uk/

Operating System

Let me look at my Availability. Do I have the bandwidth for this? Can we work it into our workflow. Into our timetable. Into our functional unit. We are all execution units. We are the source code. We look at the human-readable binary data and extract it's core. It's said that text files have a low entropy rate, and that the data is necessary and sufficient. That we can believe in if and only if logic. That it is connective between statements.

Which means that the truth of either one of the statements requires the truth of the other. Thus, either both statements are true, or both are false. So there is a black and white. There is a wrong and right. Some things are sacred. Some things are real. Some things are objective.

You can trust in that. You can believe in that.

Click...

The power to change things. The power to transmit data and ideas and communicate. The power to reach out and touch someone through the transfer of Megs and Gigs and interface with your yourself and others. You do it all day and don't realize how often.

It populates your daily soundtrack. It is the sound of work being done. It is the sound of interfacing with your world. It has all come down to this. Millions of years of evolution. It can extend your body and mind and soul. It can instantly give you the power to reach, teach, and entertain. It gives you the power to build and destroy relationships.

With the power of this. With the power of this, click . . . click. click.

The passing of the storm

on hold

Hurry up and wait. Sitting on it. Sit right there in that chair at your desk. We want it now and we want it yesterday. Rushing to multitask. Click. Send an email. Answer the phone. When did you want this by? I'm almost done. That's not fast enough. Click. Take on more. More. More jobs. More promises. I can do it. Click. Almost done. Click. Click.

Quality? Quantity? Choose your poison... I want quality. I want to pad the timetable. I want to be realistic. Let's be realistic... Let's tell people what we can do and what we can't do.

You finish the job. You send an email. Click. Click. The job is done. The fire is out.

The response: No response. Click. Click. No response.

A breeze blew by and I offered myself to its ways and my body began to shiver as leaves before a rain

The sky near sunset

37 inch Barbie

She is all plastic. All woman. She is 37 inch Barbie.

::Click here to see 37 inch Barbie at her full size::

Barky pictures

My images from Barkytect (done with digital photography and a digital drawing tablet)

Hill Country Blues

T-Model Ford: reported octogenarian, convicted murder, admitted womanizer, and straight whiskey drinker.

Hyrule Memories

Group Think controls imagination and Fairy tales. Write legends. Remember playing The Legend of Zelda at twelve years old on a summer afternoon. Rubbing your thumbs raw after hours of joystick pistol clicking. Packing on the weight eating Doritos. Tuning it all out as you explored Hyrule.

Rockstar game designers are shaping our cultures one first person shooter, one role playing game at a time. Making fantasies in 3-d wireframe environs they are teaching children to escape their realities. Teaching children to to live inside thier heads. Inside their imaginations.

Teaching soldiers how to kill and fight in an urban settings. Teaching soldiers to not shoot the innocents. Teach soldiers that there isn't anything friendly about friendly fire.

Teach us all. Teach us to believe in ourselves again. Use your technologies to evolve us, shape us, make us into our Utopian potential. Clean again. One again. Alive again. One video game under God.

Have you recieved a warning letter?

If so, contact the sytems administrator immediately. This is not a warning letter. So this does not count and, unless you've recieved another warning letter besides this one, do not contact your sytems administrator. As I was going to the bathroom today, a young lady asked me if I had gotten my hair cut. I told her no. I had grown a mustache!

Things.

Rush. Drive. Traffic. Sit. Click. Click.
Input. Output. Data flying through endless
constants. Constant improvement. Constantly
wanting more. Constantly consuming. More data.
More input. More output. Dump it. Save it.
Recycle it.

More things. All around you. Things
in your closet. Things on your desk. Things
in your garbage. Saving it for that rainy day. When
winter comes and you will need twelve sweaters.
Ten jackets. Ten pair of shoes.

Sip coffee.
Click. Click. Waiting till this work day is over to
get more things. Store more things. Dispose of more
things. Click. Click.... Click.

Thrasher

This old school thrasher was at the park today, showing the young kids up. I took some spills and will likely feel stiff tomorrow, but otherwise had a great time.

summary of "barkytect"

Barkytect, the canine architect, and her staff have big plans to design the ultimate doghouse to please their wealthy client, Mr. Moola. They transport the fussy Moola to view each model.

The country house is surrounded by grass. “ACHOO!” The city house proves too tempting for a spendthrift. “I’LL GO BELLY UP!” The summerhouse bores. “YAWN!” The winter house is chilly! “I’M NO HUSKY!”

“You’re fired!” Mr. Moola growls. “I’ll hire Piggery and Piggery.”
“Oh, my slippers!” says Barky.
Instead of playing dead, the staff throws Mr. Moola a new bone. Combining the best of each idea, Barky creates a house in New York City, complete with detachable roof, green house, pool, and a snow cone machine! “Yowza, that’s a house!” he howls.
Munching celebratory kibbles, Barkytect and team pose with Mr. Moola. They, along with photos of the house, are featured in Barkytecture magazine.

This story parallels the determined nature of every dog to that of an architect’s. Through humor, children will come to understand how teamwork leads to success.

Sk8r

This little kid was shredding at the skatepark today. I was way impressed. If he can do it, I can do it, right? I just got a new board. My next post may be a picture of my new crutches, but let's hope not.

art

The Waiting Room

Flesh and bone and spirit. Strong from years of toughing it out and dealing with the pain. Dealing with doctors. Waiting rooms. Living with it. Living with knowing that you have a medical issue. That the doctors can only slow the process. You must wake up and know that things will get better. You must wake up and know that the end is not near. That things will get better even if realistically they won't.

Realism is not acceptable here.

Believe in science.
Believe in the progression of new technologies.
Believe in stem cells and nanobots. In miracles.
Believe in science fiction. Believe in science faction.

There is the glimmer of hope that something will take and ten years from now a cure will be found. But never give up. We all know someone who lives with a medical issue. We all hope that their issue will be resolved. Rarely do we think that the end is near or what if it gets worse? We rarely believe that the issue is real until the end is near. Hold on to that hope. Hold on to the What Ifs.

What if it's not as bad as the doctors say it is?
What if it's not really as bad as I think it is?
What if science finds a cure tomorrow?
What if it is all just a test?

What if I just live each day to the fullest, regardless?

What if?

Borgamir? Is that you?

Childs Play