Pets

It's really quite amazing how similar you can get to your pets, especially when you spend a lot of time together. As in you live alone with a dog and a cat. Think Jon, from Garfield. Except hopefully not quite as hopeless or idiotic, although the cat is very smart and rather mean sometimes, and the dog is rather clueless on occasion. But enough of that, it's starting to creep me out. Over time, you get to know your animals, and can sometimes figure out exactly what it is they want. I'm good at that, especially with my boys. Lincoln here was whining earlier from my spare room. Now, I know it's a bit smelly in there at the moment thanks to them, but it's not bad enough to elicit that reaction from a dog who loves to stick his head into anything that smells. After coaxing him out of the room, he picked up his toy duck and jumped on the back of the couch. The entire time he was looking outside through all the windows he could see, like he was waiting for something. I noticed that he kept on looking along a path that a certain friend of mine always takes coming up to the door. Not that I have many visitors at all, he's basically the only one who does this. Finally, after watching him and trying to distract him, it dawned on me what was wrong. Lincoln was waiting for my friend to "come home." It's behavior I've seen before when I lived with people. Now, I know my friend has been over here a good bit lately, and that the dog has grown rather attached to him, but I was in no way expecting him to be missing my friend that much when he was just here yesterday. Nor to be expecting him to come home, waiting with his (current) favorite toy. Of course, I've grown rather fond of having him over here, and would have loved to have looked out and seen him walking up, but I was in no way expecting it. But between picking up on me liking my friend, and liking my friend himself, apparently Link decided that my friend now lives with us as a part of the "pack." Just one of those ways where our pets can pick up on our subconscious cues and exemplify them, although taking it a bit farther than reality goes. Despite having somewhat opposite personalities (the dog is social, I'm not. I'm more similar to the cat, just less mean), it seems the dog and I share a few more traits in common than I'd realized.

The Shoe Drops

From time to time, you manage to salvage a crappy, sickly day into something wonderful. And when everything's going right in the world, for the first time in God knows how long, and everything is wonderful and you're happy, sometimes you just know that there is going to be a fallout. Something lousy will happen, and if not shatter it, then at the very least drastically lower your mood. I always thought that was one of the worst feelings in the world.

I was wrong.

That feeling is nothing next to watching someone you care about go through the very same thing. Especially when you're partly to blame for it. Usually, it will all straighten out, but watching someone go from so happy to crestfallen... it can be heart breaking to see.

Take this picture. (No, this is not what I'm talking about. Can you say metaphor?) This is my cat. That thing he is in is my hamper. I do not keep my hamper on it's side on the floor. He was so proud of himself, because I had moved the hamper and he was curious about what this strange new object was on the other side of the room, so he jumped on top of it. He was happy as could be, perched up there. Then Newton's laws took effect, and the entire thing fell over. The hamper fell one way and the cat took off the other. Namely straight up then out the door. However, once he got his courage back up (in an amazingly short 30 seconds), he realized that he had just created a wonderful new playpen to sit in and gaze at the world, despite the dirty clothes, which didn't phase him in the least.

So what I'm saying, friend of mine, is that I really hope that despite this fallout, everything will quickly right itself back up, and hopefully things are even better after all of this is over. You know that anything I can do to help, I will.

When you are flying around and around the world

The last week has been one hell of a week. Which explains why I haven't touched this blog in quite a while. What all should be said about it, on such a publicly anonymous site? I do have a few people who look at this, but I have no real secrets from them. Thingsthat I haven't mentioned yet, but not secrets. But they're good at reading behind the lines, so they can figure it out. And there is one person who may or may not read this who will know exactly what I'm talking about if (s)he does.

I have a friend in the same state that I live in now. Amazing, isn't it? One of those oddly smooth accelerated

friendships where once you start to get to know each other, things just click right and you end up seeing a lot of each other. Three days over the course of a week, twice in one day, adding up to the majority of that day and the beginning of the next. It's been very nice. And things are still progressing, in new and hopeful ways. But they'll be slowing down for the better, I think. Of course, that's what I expected from the get go, so who knows. Whatever. Enough about that for here.

Art-wise, I am now having eleven artworks on display (for sale) in a local cafe´ which is great. Five ceramic pieces and six "reassemblages." For you art types, it's basically constructivism skewed slightly. They're great table-top sculptures. (The one pictured here was a toaster). I'm also working on a more

representationally abstract variation on the theme. Two cuts on my hand working on this, so hopefully it'll be worth it. I'm also looking into having more traditional work displayed in a local art gallery, but that one's a good bit away from now.

Well, apart from all that I've been busy helping out with the cafe´ I mentioned, out of friendship and loyalty than having anything to do with the art portion of things. Even if I was told that none of my art would be displayed, I would still be more than happy to help out. Been fighting off a stomach bug off and on, but that's never materialized into anything serious, so it may have been a reaction to something else. So sorry for the lapse in posts, but I've been busy!

"Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile

And you use it only for me

Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile

And you use it only for me



So save me I'm waiting

I'm needing, hear me pleading

And soothe me, improve me

I'm grieving, I'm barely believing now, now



When you are flying around and around the world

And I'm lying alonely

I know there's something sacred and free reserved

And received by me only "

--Semisonic, "Secret Smile"

"Over the Moon"

There should be a poem under this.

It would make the artist feel like bliss.

The feel it would hone,

So pick up the phone,

And give this old dog a bone.

Feel free to leave any poem you feel would be appropriate for this drawing, preferably your own, with permission to use it.

The Colony Theory

Ever since I came of bar-hopping age, I have had issues with it. I don't like the crowd, the noise, the smoke, the excess of drinking and drama (talking about gay bars, if you didn't already know this). But every gay guy I would come across went out, and liked it, some more, some less of course. So I began to theorize that there must be some segment of the gay population which does not participate in this particular social ritual. The theory stated that there are portions of straight society which do not go to bars, even among the younger group. However, having about 90% of the population to divvy up makes it easier to find the smaller group, it's still freaking huge. The gays simply have fewer people, so they're gone.

Eventually I came to call them the bar gays and the cafe´ gays. The Cafe´part was namely due to the lack of a better venue reference, thinking that if they did congregate in a public place, that was one of the more likely choices. After a while, I began to think of them as a colony, socializing independently of the rest, and simply difficult to find for this reason. I believe that my theory was correct now. I actually just had a conversation (which may or may not have been cut short due to technical issues) with a guy younger than myself who has a very similar view, and was actually rather refreshing to talk to. No drama, just good conversation that did not involve any attempt to hook up. Unusual, especially from someone younger than me. I feel bad for having basically given up on that segment now.

2:50 on a Friday Morning

I am supposed to join the world of the waking in less than four hours now, and I have yet to sleep a wink. I am tired, but I am wired now. And oddly confused about what's laying on my bed right now. (I'll leave you to ponder that for now)

As an artist, I'm used to the urge to create. Usually, it's the urge to throw (pottery), sometimes though to paint or photograph or draw. It's almost a burning desire to make something new, to be creative in all its meanings. I am very familiar with this, especially over the last few days. About an hour and a quarter before starting this post, I felt something similar, but different. I HAD to draw, but it was not this familiar desire to create, this normal urge for the artist, at least this artist. It was more of a need to illustrate, to release something already formed. To bring into the world something it already has, but in a new place, a new time.

Most of you who read this blog have seen my artwork. Ok, both of you who frequent this that I am aware of, and you've both been getting emails. Others of you have seen a few examples of my artwork, although only one of my drawings. My photographs follow the same trend of abstractness as the rest of my work, so you can draw similarities. One thing that I will do in photographs but NEVER attempt without a reason in drawing or painting is realism. I simply have no knack for it, especially with paint.

This drawing on my bed, drawn and left in such a way it seems to be looking over at me while I type this, is a (for me) rather realistic drawing of a (seemingly) young man, oddly similar to yours truly, but vitally different in subtle ways. Longer hair, different tattoos, similar but slightly different build. A comfortable body language in a pose I attempted and feel ill at ease at. I drew this picture, finding these details I have never seen before, specifically looking for them and mapping them out. And I know it is still flawed, but in ways I cannot fix, but can live with. The shoulders, for one, are not quite wide enough, but close. Tattoo details are not there, nor precise placement, but the general gesture of them is. Location of body hair is sketched out. The hips are wrong, but not badly, and his neck is a bit long. I know his eyes are brown, as is his hair, although rather different shades. I do not know why I know these things. I do not know why I chose any of the things I did or assume I did for this drawing. I have no idea why I had the urge to draw this guy, whoever he may be. I know it is not someone I know or have known.

So while I'm supposed to wake up in, now, three and a half hours, I do not think I will fall asleep yet. Maybe I'm just tired and this is getting to me for some reason. Maybe I should just sleep. But I can't stop staring at this thing. I feel oddly comfortable despite being so confused. It is a strange sensation. It is, however, almost a comfort that he looks just about as confused as I am.

In the Wake of Chaos

In the past few days, I have been in a creative rush. I have completed 8 mixed-media drawings, each 18x24 inches. The image to the right is (was) a work in progress. Much different now. This was the first one I completed, which led to another, and then a third in a series. These have merged into a set of seven (I redid this one in order to preserve the original as a gift), with an interconnecting narrative. Each of those seven drawings, as well as about 4 other images, have been digitally edited to add text, and arranged in a sequence. And having done all that digital work, as well as two of the drawings today, I am tired, I am sore... and I FINALLY don't have the driving urge to make more. What is the moral of the story, you ask? Thank God for coffee. That is it. I'm drinking a cup right now, and I have never felt so glad for a beverage, nor so relieved to be able to focus again after cursing and cussing the computer for not agreeing with me. It seems I could have simply used a different program and saved the bulk of those two hours. I find out promptly after finishing all of the work. Sigh... Thank God for coffee.

Tarnations

I dream a lot. It's rarely a good thing, but rather almost always it's weird, and often enough unpleasant. I never wake up happy from a dream. Which is why this is one hell of a kicker. I just woke up from a dream that made me happy, and feel calm, important to someone, and hopeful for the future. Then I realized, oh yeah, he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore because he thinks I'm a whore. You see, I'm new to where I live. I had one friend here, and I really suck at making friends. So I went online to a site I hated, but had not tried in quite some time. It's usually a place for hooking up. I did everything in my power to show that that is not why I was there. Including "NO SEX" marked everywhere. I gave up on facebook and myspace, so that really narrows down the options. I can't go to class and make friends, I graduated. I haven't started working yet. So I thought I'll go, be very cautious, and hope there's someone decent to talk to. And there was. So what happens when I share this happy news? I run out of friends here. Someone I really care about too. Wish I could say cared, but apparently it doesn't apply, based on my dreams. Oh well... I did everything I could to fix things, but I'm not going to go through hell again for him. I (hopefully) will start figuring out better how to make friends and maybe then I won't feel quite so alone here. Thank God for family...

Allegory

How is it that human minds are capable of taking something completely auditory, such as music, and equating it with something completely different, such as a photograph? While there are such things in common as rhythm and visual rhythm, and vague imagery such as repeated lines looking like a music sheet, but that is where it ends. But somehow I find this photo (one of mine, like all of the others I've posted) to remind me of music. The colors and imagery all point to something like a bar scene for me, including the guy towards the left facing away from the camera, and seemingly ignoring the lights in front of him. Fittingly, this was taken at a (small) Mardi Gras parade, and if I remember right that guy was on his second drink. I'd had one or two as well, but this is my normal style of photography, not a result of the drinking. However, I digress. Perhaps humans are simply wired to connect things together, and in the absence of something concrete we abstract other known things and draw new lines between them. Or maybe our minds take in all of the data of something such as much, and then ignore the sense it drawn from, leaving it able to connect with other sensory input. Or maybe I'm just full of it and B.S.ing myself as well as you. I'm not honestly sure on this one. All I am sure of on this photo is that it's an oddly bittersweet memory, which I remember in ways very similar to this photo. It's something of a blur... and that one is, partly, due to the drinking.

Side note, Alisha, if you remember what that drink was, let me know. I remember chocolate or something, but that's about it.

Superfluous

Superfluous is an interesting word. This is Merriam-Webster's online definition.

Main Entry: su·per·flu·ous

Pronunciation: \su̇-ˈpər-flü-əs\

Function: adjective

Etymology: Middle English, from Latin superfluus, literally, running over, from superfluere to overflow, from super- + fluere to flow — more at fluid

Date: 15th century

1 a : exceeding what is sufficient or necessary : extra b : not needed : unnecessary 2 obsolete : marked by wastefulness : extravagant

— su·per·flu·ous·ly adverb

— su·per·flu·ous·ness noun

Fluous, by contrast is not a word. I wonder what this says about us. We have a special word made to say "you're not needed" "you're too much" or, basically "go away, we don't want you here." At the same time, we have no word to counteract it, no "you're perfect for what we need" or "you're vital to this" or even a simple "we like you, stick around." That's a rather negative way of going about things. We have overexposed and underexposed, we have inside and outside, hyperglycemic and hypoglycemic. All of these words that cover both sides, and usually a third word for right in the middle. That's one of the reasons we have so many words in the English language. But for this, we say "eh... why bother?" Maybe it's just me and maybe I'm just in a mood, but that doesn't seem right. It also doesn't seem right that I was trying to be half-way humorous and I think I've completely missed my mark but will still post this because I'm stubborn. Ah, well... maybe my blog and I are just superfluous.

By the way, that picture was just to be superfluous.

Pit Firing and Pottery Sales

At last, proof that I am a potter after all. Despite having fun with my somewhat odd posts on here, and trying to get a laugh (thanks Alisha, your response helps!), this is what I really love doing. These are three pre-bisque fired pots which were the only survivors, apart from a small pendant and some shards which I have incorporated into another project, at my first attempt at pit firing. What this is, basically, is a big bonfire. The method I was pursuing was to simply have a ditch, fill it with pots, burry them in a combustible material, cover that with wood, and torch it. Now, usually you would have more color in the results than these (any color at all that is), but that is due to me being conservative on the size of the pit. I dug one approximately a foot and a half wide and deep, and maybe six feet long. This was simply not enough to contain sufficient material to burn hot and long enough. So by the next attempt, I will be expanding the pit to an estimated four foot depth, as well as expanding the width to be able to get in and out. Hopefully, I will get a new potter's wheel soon to be able to make enough pots to make it worth the effort. Which leads me to the other news. Tomorrow I will be doing my first Florida craft sale. Hopefully all will go well and I'll have a nice little boost. And if my job interview Tuesday goes well, I may be able to spend the profit from the sale, with a bit set aside, to buy a good wheel, rather than trying to fix my cheap old one that I still can't figure out why it isn't working.

Time for Time

Warning: This post will be confusing. Do not read while operating heavy machinery.

As I stood in my kitchen doing the dishes just now, something occurred to me. It regards time, like you couldn't figure that out from the title. It is a well established fact that time flies when you're having fun. Therefore, to slow down time, you must have no fun at all, or even... anti-fun. If you achieve such a state of anti-fun, you will notice (and every student has had at least one experience of this, mostly in college) that time will all but stand still. As Einstein theorized, time and space are related. The faster you move through space, the slower you move through time. Therefore, anti-fun equates to high velocity. It may be possible, even, to move backwards in time. The secret to this form of time travel is to go faster than light, to make time slow down so far it goes backwards. So, if were going close to the speed of light, and had a college economics class full of liberal art majors, the combined effect would send you hurtling backwards in time. However, nobody would be aware of this, because professors of such classes notice nothing but the lecture at hand, and the students are all asleep. So time travel is useless. Let us look at fun again, however. Since time is going faster, that must mean that it is the same as not moving at all, thereby allowing time it's full velocity. As every mother's child knows, you can't accomplish anything sitting on your duff all day. So fun is the opposite of productivity, which is why jobs always suck. Anyone who really loves their job must then themselves suck, to counteract the anti-productivity of the fun. So, to sum all this up, here are your options. You can either A) be a time traveler but completely unaware of any of it, B) have a crappy job but otherwise be a pretty cool person, or C) be a douche but love your job. And if you disagree with me, you can D) kiss my butt, you humorless ice queen.

Drama Coasters.

When you're a kid, at least a normal one, you love roller coasters. The dips and climbs and crashes and turns are all so exciting, so invigorating. Even as we get older we still like them, until we reach an age where it's just too much. Perhaps emotions work on a similar concept. When you're young, the ups and downs and ins and outs of emotional relationships, be it friendships or romantic (or any other kind you can think of), none of it bothers you. You can go have fun with friends, then have it all come crashing down due to drama or what have you, then you're right back up there, and don't mind repeating the pattern. While there is something to be said for resiliency, once you get to a certain point enough is enough. So the theory is that perhaps, like riding roller coasters simply gets to be too much after a certain point in your life, maybe emotional roller coasters are the same way. That might be why people force themselves to level out, and not take part in the day-to-day drama that marks the lives of so many people. I know that's why I don't like to be around certain people, because I can't take it. Of course, I was never very big on roller coasters either. Maybe that's all that maturity is, realizing that you don't like the ride anymore, and forcing yourself to stop taking part in it. I've never understood people who love the drama of who said what to whom (grammar?), and who slept with Person X, cheating on Person Y, and put themselves through so much. It could be an emotional equivalent of an adrenaline rush, but it simply seems to me that they haven't aged to the point where they like balance. I remember my parents always having a nice, level life without all the extreme ups and downs. I rather liked it. Well, I could be wrong about all of this. Maybe some people are roller coaster people, and some are lazy river people. I was always partial towards the ferris wheel, myself... maybe that's why I'm drawn towards long relationships and repelled by drama... Just liked the slow cycle of getting better and having a view, despite the occasional dip, but you always climb back out... But then they start unloading it and it's just jerky and you're ready to get out of there. Ah, well... Who knows, I wasn't a psych major. Just more food for thought.

The 3rd is on 3's

Someone, a rather special someone, asked me what my thing is with threes. Now, if you were to ask me my favorite number, I would say four, but I (both subconsciously and consciously) tend to do things in threes. Three points, Three M's on the name of the blog, and so on. Like right there. I answered him, but I don't feel the answer was sufficient.

The number three has a built in balance. The central point flanked by the other two. Evens, while still technically balanced, do not have this pivot point, and thereby lack the balanced feel. Photography especially takes advantage of this in the rule of thirds. While not all photographers follow this, many strive to have a set of three objects in their photographs: three trees, three people, three beams of light. Arrangements also tend to follow threes. The half hour of Mamma Mia that I watched once was completely full of 3 groups. Noticed three, ironically. Main girl's necklace had three stars, there were three groups of three people, and people kept popping up on the screen in threes. Anyway, this balance is somewhat true for all odds, however with 1, it lacks the effect of having repetition, and 5 is

usually a bit too much.

There are also an abundance of threes in nature (we're going to skip over religion completely on this conversation, by the way). Three perceived dimensions, three primary atomic particles, three "normal" states of matter (yes, there are more than three, plasma and supersolids jump to mind, and glass might be considered a separate state technically, I'm not sure on that), and there are more if you care to look for them. I don't, and I feel I've made my point with just these three. See? I didn't even intend for that one.

This third and final point is the (in my twisted brain) psychology of the third. One point, you might just be lucky. Two points, and you know a bit, but it's still iffy. Three, you come across as knowing what you know and being confident about it. Four is just a bit too much, and five is just showing off. Of course, from time to time overkill on points is needed, such as the situation where you need to completely overwhelm a thought someone has that is completely wrong and immediately harmful. Such as the hypothetical "You're looking for someone else, aren't you?" conversation or the "I'm going to jump, don't try to stop me" talk. Then, the more reasons the merrier.

And now it is irking me that this is five paragraphs rather than three. However, grade school pounded it into my head that you HAVE to have an opening and conclusion when you write an organized paper. Paper, this is not, but it's too organized and structured to leave as it was. Plus it was an even number, and you already read what I think about evens.

A Musing on Fate

I've never been quite sure how I feel about Fate. On the one hand, I don't like the idea that we can't control our own destiny. On the other, things just... work out somehow. A few years ago, maybe more than a few, I came to a conclusion. Fate is simply God's/the creator's/whatever name you choose for a higher power's way of showing off. The key part of omniscience is knowing EVERYTHING. That includes how you will choose something in condition set "x." So, by simple arrangement of events outside the control of free will, it would be possible to make a tapestry with the desired effects and interactions. That, however, seems a bit morbid in the case of bad situations. A bit to "eh, take one for the team" for my tastes in a belief structure. That leads back to simple free will, with no pre-arrangement. So, then, do things such as instinct or gut feelings or hunches come into play instead? Could this be a nudge of "fate" to say "hey, this way's a good bet!" or "do this, and something good will come out of it, sooner or later." Maybe. I don't know. I'm still fighting it out with the whole fate concept. Besides, who am I to dictate anything? These are just my ramblings. Maybe it will inspire some thought in someone who needs a nudge in that direction. Maybe I'm an agent of fate by typing this. Or maybe I'm getting a bit full of myself to even jokingly say that. And maybe, just maybe, I like using the word maybe a bit too much. What I can say (without using maybe) is this. When you make a plan and do your best to keep to it, for your own self preservation and your own long term good... when you try to do things how they should be done... When you have a PLAN and you try to stick to it, and then events come out of the blue and shoot that plan to hell and everything ends up much better than it was before, there is only one word for that. Fate.

The FIrst Post is Always the Hardest

Well then, this is my new blog. I don't really know what to do with a blog,
or why the hell I'm even on this website doing this. But it amuses me at the moment, so I suppose it's all good. I see that with this button I can add a photo. There we go, that's nice and all. There I am... less creepy and what not than in the main photo I chose for this thing. Whatever. On to business, which I suppose is the business of this being a new blog. This is a blog, and it's new. Business completed. You're probably thinking by now that I am schizophrenic, which is how the computer tells me the word is spelled... no "t" go figure... Rest assured, I am. But the voices are kindly, or at least not harmful. All they tell me are things like "Why'd I sign up for this" and "I have to take a piss." If you haven't heard of him, I highly recommend Stephen Lynch, he's a fantastic comedian and has a wonderful voice, but is very very crude. So no kids under... I don't know... 14, maybe. Alas, I have now managed to waste over an hour on getting this stupid thing set up and this first blog finished. I really need to start work!