Creation of the World

Bosch, Hieronymus; circa1504
Outer wings (shutters),
depicting the third day of creation

Male & Female

Acrylic on Canvas.
On two separate canvases each 4'' X 6 ''.
Click to enlarge.

Dyslexics of the World Untie!

 

La Cucaracha

Upset. Steaming. Not beaming while gleaming the fruits of our countries labor. Our countries slave labor. I eat on the cheap. I'm in it deep. Drive through, instants. Drive through, cravings. Paving the path of another indigents sufferings.

Let them break their backs. Let them sleep three to a bed. Let them eat cake. Work Visa Lisa cleans for you while you sit in your cubicle mouse clicking, calorie counting your heaven. Air is a glaring. Baring down the exercise you get from walking to and from the bathroom. As the work that you would not want to do gets done everyday. Unnoticed. Unappreciated.

The cock roaches come in through the cracks in our countries floor. They eat the garbage that we throw away at night. Crumbs on the counter. Crumbs under our door. I hear them but don't see them. Don't see how many of them are packed in under my house waiting for a chance for our door to open and welcome them in to our family.

As the president says these are good cock roaches working hard. If only they had a crumb they could feed their cock roach families of which are growing at a rapid rate and could easily take lazy cock roaches out of their cock roach jobs.

They have been here forever. We stole their land from them. They had to go in hiding. Now we dangle our cock roach cheese in front of their cock roach mouths. Let them do the work that we don't want to do. Let them have all the freedoms we take for granted. Open our doors. Feed them our crumbs. Or spray them with Raid and quit talking about it. Do you want to work like a cock roach?

A Creative Commons License.

I felt that it might be good to protect our genius a bit.
We now have a Creative Commons license. A link to
it is under the Archive and here.

A Meditation On Death

When I visit my dad I can't help but smile. I don't cry, though I do miss him. Knowing he is finally free makes me happy. Also, there's a gone fishing sign hanging on a tree above him. This makes me laugh out loud and I hear him join in. The sign is for a teenage boy buried nearby. I polish my father's headstone and it seems like yesterday. When I watched him die with so much dignity and humor. He was tired of being sick. The only hesitation was his family. I felt strangely relieved. While others wept, I smiled, letting him know that I understood. The pain was over and we would all be okay. Wherever he went, we'd be there soon. I went downstairs to McDonalds while we waited for the inevitable. My order number was the same as my father's room. I'm still not sure if that was a wink from a higher power or a warning. I try not to eat McDonalds too much, just in case.

The Venus Horizon

My New Painting.

Carpe Borgum

Active participant. Instant. Involved. Daily process. Workout. Exercise. Body and mind and soul. Pump oxygen. Clean out system. Dirt. Debris. Push filth through molded drainage ditch filled with all of your impropriety's. All of your sins and all of your polluted energies.

I'm skipping rope now. Skipping hope now. I will not wait for miracles to happen but stand on the sholdiers of legends and throw stones through stone mansion walls. Knock holes into gold pedestals of idols booted and scooted out of our American dreams.

Seizing the day. Seizing my life by making choices that will demonstrate, teach and tutor honesty, integrity, and lust for a better life. Lust for role models who model on the cat walk of the everyday life.

I remember sitting in the isle at Star Wars. I was a little child. I watched as the story scrolled by in large white text applied to a star filled sky. I remember watching E.T. as he nearly died and I cried. This was my heroic suburban epic told to me by Hollywood. Spoon fed and fancy free. Wrongs and rights given through stories told on screens more vivid than any Bible School summer day spent sweating puberty.

One day I will wake and take my life. Make my life with high obligation and high moral standing. Become immortal. While sitting in my screened in Florida room with my 50 inch flat panel monitor heaven, surround sound. While looking at my grandaughter's Kodak gallery. Give me back to the heavens. Lift me up to eternity.

New Site Design

I still have the old site design so please
tell me which one you like better. If the old
one gets more votes I'll put it back up.

Thanks.

PINK TACO
(read the link)

Pink is the color of little girls. Little pearls that blossom before your eyes. That make you smile from ear to ear. But can also make you full of tears.

Pink is all around. Wives and mothers and little girls. Feminine pleasures and measures that make this world. Blue is the opposite of pink. Blue loves pink. Hates pink. Loves pink. Blue is controlled by pink. Blue needs pink to find different shades of blue. To grow into it's color. To find peace in blue.

Pink is all around. It is life. It is birth. It is sex. It is love. Pink will be here when blue is long gone. Pink is in the sunset and sunrise. Pink is eternal. Glowing. Growing. The Phoenix. The Resurrection.

Pink is nature. Pink is nurture. Pink is evolution. Pink is the revolution. Pink is my favorite color.

They Call Him "Little Pinkie"

GiantPinkElephant
Originally uploaded by AaronLeavy.

Pink People of the World Unite!

For Malingering - Pink lady
Originally uploaded by Vidalia.

XOXOXO

Throwing out lures and kicking your spurs. Fishing with bobs and calling out mobs. Waiting for a bite that might, maybe, never come.

Playing the numbers. Playing your chance at the big time. The more you bait the more chances of bites. Chances of mights. Chances of rights. Once. Twice. Three times a maybe. When is the day that your ship will sell in? When will your words be deemed worthy? Your ideals deemed beauty? And when will you get your applause for your dogged determination. The question you have to ask yourself is, "Do you feel lucky?" Do you even play the lotto? Why do you need to win?

Running expecting more from life progam.exe. Compiling. [This program will make you expect more] You are programmed to want more. Now. Instantly. Gratify me. From the flicker of the television to the ping pong of data flying through space. To the happy meal, combo number 1's, 500 channels of emptiness, infomercials, lose weight while doing nothing. Find happiness while doing nothing. Happy pills.

Happy meals and mind numbing Blockbuster movies. As we watch Hollywood stars making millions off of make believe. Why can't you make a decent living off of your reality? To professional athletes signing multimillion dollar contracts. With the majority of our heroes being uneducated, untalented regular folk who have found fame by being at the right place at the right time. Having the right contacts. Having the right PR. And symbolically if not literally winning the lotto.

Wake and take control of system, data, position in space. Make it so. Run rationalization program. Consume jealousy. Want to experience a life full of fame, riches, worries not constrained to money, with dollars flowing. Not living from paycheck to paycheck. Run reality program. Delete jealousy program. Find value in the here and now. Human closeness. Human moistness. Flesh real. Sweat. Tears. Pain. Reality. Make it so. Hugs all around.

Anonimous

Funny how one can easily feel invisible in the city. Passing thousands of different people every day. But I notice and I want to be noticed. I am an interesting individual yearning for acceptance among this homogeneous mass. Life can be an experiment. Some days, I treat it as such. Here in the city, I am working within controlled groups and thus am less prone to selection bias. Now put me in Alabama and buddy we've got a problem.

The Company You Keep

After the show, a promise of snow covered coffee tables and we're off. The outskirts of Huntsville is right around the corner. Still, home is closer. A nice little culdesac and a house with a homely veneer. Inside I find my worst fear. Trashy redneck heaven with nowhere to lay but amidst a nazi shrine. Too tired to resist and too high to drive. I steal away in the early morning hours away from prying eyes. I am home now. No longer will frosty trump the warmth of conciousness.

Blended

Beauty and plastic dolls. The ideal. The teach me. Love me. There is a time and a place for discipline. I'll say "No" one day and she'll understand. She'll button up. Listen up. Stand at attention. She'll hear the sounds of daddy's feet thumping through household hardwood floors. And remember not to touch the stove. Remember not to eat things off the floor.

Months will pass. Years will pass. But not now. Not now because brain function. Junction. Biorhythms system. Ties that bind aren't tied. Aren't connected. Synapses are growing. Flowing. As I'm towing the line. As I'm mowing my lawn. Trimming my hedges and saying my pledges of getting my piece of the apple pie.

I hear of landslide, hurricane, war, hunger, Aids ridden, genocide planet on daily news blips and bleeps through unconscious radio news programs. I hear the end is coming. The end is near. But it hasn't come. I used to stand on the tip of the volcano and want the eruption. Want Y2K to end it all. All my single life searching uncertainty. But now I hold my wife's and offspring's hands and think of growing old with them. Searching with them. Learning with them. How wonderful a world it can be?

One day, if we are all still here, her synapses will connect. The paths will be made. And "No" will mean "No". "Hot" will mean "Hot". Lose ends tied and connected. The synapses will be grown and evolved. And she will wake and see and understand the beauty that is this world. I can only hope and pray for this, on this . . . Mother's day.

Identity Theft

Angel smiles abound around this town. She stands now and plans now. Brown eyes, loving eyes. Joyful eyes. Growing. Hunger. Fullness. She is everything to me, in me. Makes me.

19 pounds of heaven. I will look into her eyes and find myself one day. I will look into her eyes and find happiness one day. In her eyes I am laying concrete. Resting on couch, porch, swing, lemonade summers.

One week absence. Misses. Growth. System. Crawling. She will walk soon. She will talk soon. Missing growth. Missing laughter. Missing knowing that I am larger than me. Purpose to sustain not only my life, but her life. I am larger. Stronger. Part of something bigger than self.

Self is selfish. Self needs unit, pod, growth, construct system. System grows roots. Roots sink deep into soil. Grows foundation. Find self in soil. Find self in roots, construct on system. Find identity through growing unit. Unit grows self. Self grows identity.

// Hello World - A first program

Class HelloWorld
{
public static void Main()
{
System.Console.WriteLine("Hello World");
}
}

When you're on meds