Sunday, March 6, 2016

Ode to Dystopia



On Mogul








“Talent can take you places but it is skill that keeps you there.”

~ my friend Torrey, on writing
Eyes burning, mottled, massive sleep deprivation, caffeine OD, and words, words, mocking me. Read aloud, think, type, backspace, delete, retype, fuck! Where is the arrow? Type again, fix, beat, bitch, bury my fucking head in the sand, and sink.

I had a stroke of genius — it happens — and thought about waking the doctor up at 2 a.m. and tell him I have that dry eye syndrome I saw on television and I need a script.
The conversation goes like this:

“Hey Doc, it’s me. I have that, uh, dry eye syndrome. Yes, my eyes hurt. No, I have not been drinking too much coffee again. What? I need a script? Yeah, whatever, just call it in and uh, while you’re at it, can ya pick me up a pack of smokes on your way to the OR?”

Life should be that comical.

I wouldn’t mind the side effects of the prescription anyhow: heart palpitations, kidney disease, possible stroke, urinary retention, migraines, constipation, stomach pain, blurred vision (oxymoron), short term memory loss, confusion, dementia, risk of diabetic coma, and eventually… death.

I can risk that to get rid of a dry eye or two.

I sat in the mall today. I despise the mall. Forced to go, I step inside, heart beating fast, instant chest pain (great) and onset of perpetual migraine, so I grab a cappuccino. Walking, walking, and thinking if one more motherfucker nudges into me, that is it. I am tearing into the next toy store I pass to grab a lethal child’s toy.

One by one, take ’em out, like a nut-job in a bell tower. Sit in the middle of this excuse for a living room where we can socialize and hide behind a plastic palm tree. Wait for a bratty piss-pot to come running by, stick my foot out and watch the parents halfheartedly console the spoiled replica of themselves they spawned.

If there is a hell, it is the mall, so please, don’t even think of telling me to go there.

Figured I should probably eat, my legs hurt, wandering around, wondering what the fuck I was doing in this place and how much I would rather be in a bookstore or at home watching Tony Montana shove his face into a pile of snow.

Instead, I took a seat in the Garden Cafe and looked around. Felt I was the only one without pennies on my eyes.

Lil’ girls with G-strings pokin’ out of their low-cut sad excuse wanna-be-somebody they never will be showing off to boys who only wanna get in their pants.

As if that would be a difficult task.

Cell phones, iPads, iPods, tablets, Nooks, Kindles, everything portable imaginable, and I thought I was cool when I had the Bionic Woman, and her arm opened up and you saw wires and shit in there.

Saw a woman sitting alone in a booth with a laptop on the table. I thought, Man, you should be at a cafe. What in the fuck are you doing in a mall? I felt like walking up to her, handing over a tattered book of poetry like a Get Out of Jail Free card, but I didn’t.

The mall is a denial from the misery felt by those who still think that the world is flat.

There was an angel there today. Was just a man — olive-skinned, radiating supernovas swirling like sunspots. I watched him there smiling. Brown leather sandals, a nylon cord sneaking inside his shirt, and I wondered what was on the other end of it. I saw hieroglyphic tattoos poking out of the edges of his shirtsleeves.

Curls of carbon silk reflected light shining from his retinas, cerulean, and I looked around and felt like screaming, “Am I the only one seeing this shit?”

Nobody stirred, people kept right on stuffing their faces with eventual heart attacks, talking and yapping with fake smiles, lipstick-stained-teeth grinning skeletons already dead to themselves.

This man though, the angel, he sat on a hill, and I was a child. My chin upturned listening as he told stories to droves of people. He was cotton-robed, his raiment. The whole scene, transparent. Lucid dreams and waves. Sketches of memories past.

He was one word ---> Imagine.

Compelled to talk to him, every bit of strength I had — which wasn’t much, trust me  kept me from doing just that. Pisses me off now. I saw him there and knew it. He looked right into my eyes and said:

“Ssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” 

I heard that inside my skull.

Then he looked away from me and continued talking to the ghosts seated next to him.

The cursor blinked. I stared at it. Maybe it wasn’t my eyes after all. An hour had passed and I had not written a single paragraph. I stared though… at this one sentence:

There are plenty of talented nobodies in the world who are too lazy to do jack shit with their lives.

I held my palms to my cheeks, cracked my knuckles, put on some tunes and began to write.




Friday, March 4, 2016

City of Buffalo Change Columbus Day to Indigenous People's/Heritage Day Petition & Support


This only started Feb. 16, 2016! How amazing!



http://petitions.moveon.org/sign/city-of-buffalo-resolution?source=s.icn.em.cp&r_by=10621242

 



As far as "America" is concerned, this land was founded by the Indigenous that first inhabited it. 

We cannot alter the past nor wish to, however, we can change the present and the future.  



This petition is for abolition of Christopher Columbus Day, the 2nd Monday in October, an outdated and historically incorrect celebration, in favor of Indigenous [Heritage] Day.



"Past the elementary and high schools, there are only occasional hints of something else. Samuel Eliot Morison, the Harvard historian, was the most distinguished writer on Columbus, the author of a multi-volume biography, and was himself a sailor who retraced Columbus's route across the Atlantic. In his popular book Christopher Columbus, Mariner, written in 1954, he tells about the enslavement and the killing:  The cruel policy initiated by Columbus and pursued by his successors resulted in complete genocide."- from Howard Zinn

Support in 2 weeks: 

Buffalo News, Buffalo Rising, Mogul, Remember Native Americans. Org, Native American and First Nations Cultures, Medium, Indigenous Environmental Network. Org, Time Warner, Haudenosaunee Environmental Task Force, Native American Cultural Center of Rochester & Syracuse, National Native American Indian Heritage Month, Native American Community Services of Erie and Niagara Counties Inc., Sacred Ecology Films, Seneca Nation Media & Communications Center, Sacred Ecology, Seneca Nation of Indians Tourism, WGRZ NBC CH 2, John Kane. 

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Art : Arabic "Peace" Dove & Chinese "Peace" & Bodhi Branch






I cannot really say this is a tutorial because all I did was research the words "Peace" in Arabic and Chinese and drew them on wood that I had around the house. The wood can be anything. I happened to have two decorative pieces that were supposed to be cutting boards.  



I decided to stain and sand them because I am into woodworking and then I used a satin gloss to finish. I only used black acrylic paint to outline my sketches. I used a flat end hard bristle brush in order to be able to outline these precisely. 






You can get already cut pieces of wood at art stores, you can use any flat pieces of wood you find and you can have certain pieces cut for you at hardware stores or cut them yourself if you are into woodcutting. You can also put these on canvases.

I decided to use these symbols and artwork because they spoke to me. 

When you look close at the Arabic dove calligraphy you will see the word "Peace" in the dove and that is also the dove of peace. Peace in Arabic is "Salam." 








The Chinese symbols for "Peace" were easy to sketch and the Bodhi branch seemed appropriate as that signifies a sacred fig tree that Siddhartha Guatama [Buddha] sat beneath. "Bodhi" means awakening or enlightenment. 





These are now hanging in my kitchen. 







They are far from perfect and at times I had to rework some spots due to tight space and going out of the sketch lines, but they turned out beautifully. 


The only limitation to creativity is your mind.


Enjoy! 


Check out my other tutorials below:  

Up-cycling Glass: Stamp Candle Holder
 
Up-cycling Glass: Glass Beads Candle Holder

Preserving & Framing Autumn Leaves