Lord God Almighty I wanted to be as noble as an Indian chief
But with an ear to the ground...
I hear the white man's feet

I saw you and my mind raced to visions of courting and beach time. Outdoor cafes and the like. I'll convince you to move to Philadelphia, and we'll check out the Liberty Bell. That was my first thought? I couldn't come up with anything more than Philly? I can confess to you that I don't have a clue where I am, and I'm just taking up your time. Ever hear of Thomas Edison? He was an inventor of many things. You can thank him for light bulbs (right?) You know...those little things that pop up over a cartoon's head when they get ideas? What about Ben Franklin? Want to tie a key to a kite and fly it in a thunderstorm?

Letter to C

It is the holiday after the day you left. I'm still recovering from what I first thought was an allergy attack, but on second thought is probably a cold. Getting a cold in the middle of a May heat wave is pure torture. I think the last time that had happened to me was July 2007. To top it all off, it was my birthday weekend, I was in Ohio, with my girlfriend. I made her miserable. I didn't do it on purpose, but my throat was so sore and swollen I could barely eat solid foods. Medicine wasn't helping and I was in denial. Kind of like this weekend. Another time that I had this exact same thing happen to me was Jason and Kristi's wedding. I drove 3 and a half hours by myself all the way down to Dayton, Ohio. I arrived and all my friends where in the wedding so I was by myself in my pew and at the reception at my table. It was a pretty lonely wedding experience and I was sick just like in July 2007 and now May 2010.

This wedding was entirely different. I was going to be driving down by myself, but I would have company on the way back and all the way to Michigan. I had made many plans before hand. Then you appeared. You found a way to be able to come to the wedding and you needed a ride. It was a great idea, because it was probably the most fun I have ever had on a road trip. It wasn't the fact that I wasn't lonely, either. You were/are more than that. It's most likely because you remind me of my sister in a good way. It's also because you have been so steadily similar since I have known you. You're always the same great person through it all and I admire that greatly.

So today, the holiday after I spent doing nothing. I don't have any family in close proximity so usually Memorial day is spent alone. I had one full day to reflect on the 2 days we spent in Kentucky with our friends. When I finally shook off the cluster cuss that are my symptoms I went out to get some lunch. When I got in the car I thought I smelled your perfume. I think I did, for a second! But the familiar aroma of basement incense burning over took the subtlety of what lingered from you. It was like a quick flash back to a distant memory, although it was only hours since we were on the road together.

It started raining a short time after that, so since I was doing nothing I thought I would go for a drive as kind of a pre-wash to get all the bugs off of my car. It may rain all week, so I am not sure I will get to washing it before I leave for Ohio. So many things stick out to me from this weekend. And after the 4th or so Eddie Harris track I listened to I came up with the rest of this.

The ease of conversation, the ease of...well everything. I've always felt that ease around you since we were 19 or 20. In fact I have thought that to be a strong suit for you. Your feet could not touch the hotel room carpet, you found us packing tips, you laughed when I said I really loved our hotel, I hope you know that I love going out of my way for you and I have loved that since we met.

As we talked in the car and as subject matter flowed and flowed I was consumed by only good thoughts about you. I didn't want to just shower you with them. I thought you might think that would have been over the top or patronizing. Or maybe I should have just said them. I believed that our history as being "just" friends would have been compromised if I had just poured my heart out to you. I'm not even going to say them all here. Save for one: Anyone, male, female, beast, extraterrestrial, robot, cyborg, inanimate object, plant or otherwise will have won the sweepstakes if they win you.

Letter to J (with plot embellishment)

This is what I'm doing: I'm walking around on a path in a wooded area. I'm not talking the black forests of Europe, or a National Park full of red wood trees. It's not a nature preserve in the Dakotas or anything. To make this clear and concise and short and sweet I will just tell you. I'll tell you because this is a letter that's supposed to get you started. To get you started well on your way to loving me from afar. And while I am not writing this from the woods, it's a setting that will frame the letter. If I were writing from the woods this late in the night I would have surely been eaten by any or all number of the creatures that call this inhabitance a home. "Kill the invader!" they will scream in unison and in nature speak. I'm letting my imagination get carried away with me but I'm a desperate alien in this unknown land. I'm still thinking of the ant parade numbering in the 1,000's crawling in and around all orifice my body owns. Then plants growing at a rate which is extreme tying me in knots not unlike a killing in the film Evil Dead.

All that to say, that's how desperate I am to write this letter to you. I've expatriated to the dark wilderness of my childhood to wander and collect my thoughts. You've never seen this place before but if you start at my parents back door off the back porch and head straight west you'll meet my high school alma mater. From there head to the north of the school to an overgrown patch of land meant for scientific observation by teens and teachers. Another slight right and you will find the area of second generation growth forest that was laid aside for small hikes and cross country running practice. When I was 18 I was suckered into running here. By the promises of another friend of good times on school bus trips and runs just her and I. Well, that never happened and I was suckered good.

However, now this is the woods I chose to gather all my gumption and outline and draft and throw away several and several more letters just to say goodbye. I have every manner of good luck charm in my coat pockets and on my person. I have dyed rabbit's feet from the county fair on keychains. I have a wish bone from Thanksgiving. I have a shiny new penny, my lucky socks, my favorite watch, my lucky hat, a necklace made of garlic, and what seems like 3 lbs of gold plated or cheap metal crosses and crucifixes in my back pocket. That could be another reason I did not write this letter in the actual forest. No way to actually sit on a log! Too many crosses in my back pocket! I'd like to paint a picture for you that's as grandiose as the nose on your face or the bones in your cheeks, but the mood is closely guarded by her shroud of solitary cloud cover. But I will say the woods is chilly for it being summer.

Baby, I just realized that in my description I may have lost the perfect words for this letter. But the dramatic framing of this letter and the dramatic flair by which I charged into this place should be enough to really let you know the meaningfulness that you are in my life. Somehow the trees remind me of how you would bend but never break in front of me. The way they continually sway with the summer wind remind me of that. Broken limbs and tree branches on the ground remind me of a theory I had about how you may break behind close doors. When absolutely no one was around to hear these trees fall. Since I was never around to hear them fall, I don't know if they ever made a sound. Similarly I was never around when your branches fell. Or when you let your beautiful leaves down, darling.

If anyone else should read this some day they should know one or a few things. This isn't a classic love 'em and leave 'em tale. Honey, if you show this letter to anyone else I hope you'll explain that. Explain that we never loved, but just the same the death of love in our friendship is just as deafening as sobs from a broken lover. My hope, baby is that you can tell the tale of a period of your life where we never fully expressed ourselves to each other. Just like a transplanted bloom of bush we stayed the same and we only grew as much as our plot allowed. Call it natural self control, call it what you will.

Honey, here's a bad analogy for us, but we were gold fish in a small bowl in this small town. Our bodies grew as much as the tank could handle. Then for some reason we stopped. We stopped after the night we sat on the floor in the kitchen and had those beers. Now, all I can really do is write down in this letter that I don't necessarily regret not expressing myself. I probably know perfectly well that all my to-do would have been taken in your perfect stride and not echoed. You did so much for this dud. I feel like I did nothing of equal value for you. That's what I really regret. I don't really have any palpable skill or grown up love to give you. I'm sorry. I truly am sorry for never quite repaying you for all that you did for me. If I had money and if you would except my money I would pay you payments like I pay my student loans. Each month I would dutifully send you a check (and not a minimum payment like the payments I pay to my loans).

I don't know. I guess my painful obsession will be to have never really said this to you. Instead of being a man or taking it on the chin I chickened out, ran into the woods and imagined every outcome possible if we had ever had this conversation. Letters are good though, it's better than saying nothing at all. Maybe I will just buy one of those blinking arrow signs on the side of the road. I will take it over to your garden and sink it in the mud. Then when it's good and anchored I'll get those little black plastic letters and spell out what's in my heart. Just something blaring and obvious, quick and to the point. A slogan won't do it justice. Only talking to you face to face would have really left me satisfied. I don't think I can now. You're leaving in 7 days and those days I know have plans. You always have plans, so I know you do. Don't say you don't. But you would.

I'll leave you with this haunting quote from Emily Dickinson: "Dwell in possibility". Sometimes it rings in my ears and in my brain. I will probably always feel that way about this. Not telling you any of this. I know that quote is meant as something positive, but it has continually seemed to fill me with dread. If you always dwell in possibility you will never be happy where you are or happy with who/what you are. You'll always see reason to change. Don't get me wrong, baby. I don't dislike self improvement and sharpening of the mind. But "my" possibility the one of me actually confessing...exists no longer. So when I look this situation in the future, and the possibility that has turned into a short coming I might feel a pain. Acceptance of destiny is hard, and I don't blame either of us. This was just the way it was supposed to be. If you want, you should give me your address and I'll send you a rabbit's foot. We all need a little luck now and again.

You have the prettiest hair, and I mean the prettiest hair in the world. In the world. In your world. There's a lot of reasons why we exist in two different worlds. And I know yours is filled with a great light. While my world is filled with murky shadows. The light I see when I see it is through trees and leaves. It's through dusty blinds, it's through rotten garage windows. But sometimes I see light like I want to see and the way it's meant to be seen. When I drive down Washington and I take a left. Around 7:30 or 8 in the evening in the summer. Past the 324 and in the distance I see the kind of clouds I love. The clouds shaped like only an imagination can conceive. But all I am is imagination and that's why I am writing this. You wore black flats, a gray and pleated skirt and a white sweater. It was 80 degrees out! Your hair was so beautiful and you had one ring on one finger on a hand I can't remember. One thing I can remember is when we washed dishes and you asked me so many leading questions. I talked and talked and talked and remembered to remain positive. Because YOU were positive, and I wanted to be a servant too. And when you introduced yourself you had a first and a last name. One-two one went the syllables from your lips and your voice. Your name reminded me of a song today, so I spent a good portion of the day today listening to the songs that reminded me of it. For no reason at all, but that it reminded me of one-two one. Your name is like a mic check, an audio test and it drives me to wonder if I am even a smudge on your beautiful mind. Sit down the pew from me anytime, and you can be "that person" anytime, 1-2 1. The prettiest, prettiest, the prettiest prettiest hair. The prettiest of the prettiest.

The cutest fat girl I ever seen works at a gas station and keeps it clean. Sometimes she works the register and rings me out. 1 dollar here another there 50 cents to end it all. As I piss my checking account away. I don't know if she really notices that. Don't get me wrong, I'm no big spender. But she isn't into money. If she was, she wouldn't be working at a gas station, right? Today she had a hole in her shirt. I don't think the gas station tends to really fulfill all uniform requests on the dime. Most likely there is a box in the back. Behind the refrigerated drinks to the right of the candy. Or maybe that's her lucky shirt. Maybe on the days she wears the shirt with the hole in it customers act cheerier, gas pumps flow faster, the ready made hot foods cook themselves. Maybe with extreme luck little birds fly in from the out doors land on her shoulder and tweet along to the light rock 90's songs which play daily all day. That'd be a site.

Electric Ode

Be my girlfriend. I ask and ask and ask in my head. It's only because you are in my head that I ask. It's a bit like "Across the Sea" by Rivers. I only know you a little bit, the little bit you know someone from connections only made electronically. Maybe we could be the first to electronic synapses to fall in love. We have only really known each other from posts made, and emails made or pictures tagged from friends neither of us know. My computer sends a bit to my internet which sends it to the web and you read it and smile. I smile all the time when I read you. I wonder if you smile when you read me...We're across the web and I wonder how you do you hair. I wonder what you say with your voice and how you choose your glasses. I wonder how you ride your bike and where you put your keys. And you have the only cat I've ever loved upon first site. How do you fall in love with an animal with only meeting it on a picture on a screen?

I've looked at you a thousand times. But please don't read me wrong, I'm not obsessed. I'm just curious. My thoughts always exist in possibility and I know you aren't a real one. You live all the way on the east coast. I'm going to Australia to ride my bike and eat Vegemite sandwiches like Men Without Hats. You're going home to eat pizza that's defined by location. Which city has the best pizza? Which ever city you live in. I'll live in that city by the lake. If you'll let me when I come back from living in the Asian capital of the world outside of Asia it's self. Let's ride bikes and I'll by you gifts from 25 cent machines and you can love them for awhile and throw them away. I'll buy you groceries and candy bars and fatty meals at popular restaurants. We can share an onion bowl from somewhere.

God breaks day break on me like an egg breaks on the side of a skillet. The cloudy egg white moves back and forth over the sunny yoke. They combine to make the morning sky and set a new day. I'll lie there unaware for seconds more. Until the eggy sky becomes brighter and I'm forced to make my way to the next room. When the light flicks on I'll brush my teeth. Pieces and parts each in different places complete a uniform for the day. Hat on the hook on the door in the room. Pants underneath my bed across from drawers where my shirts are found. I'll do everything but put on my shoes. When I walk I try to make my walk my prayer. I can't always promise when I say I will be better that I will be better. Diagonally through the wet grass, over the gritty pavement, past the bird poop canoes, and finally I walk beside the stocked shelves of the discount store. I see soaps, body wash, sunglasses, milk, cash registers, isles and isles of the unopened store. Security lights still dimmed, and doors still locked. Afterwards I'll approach the blossomed bushes and the tulips which highlight my final path. The smell is always the last encouragement towards work. The smell is also the last smell of freedom when I get out. Then I'll walk past the window with the soaps, past all the overpriced bikes, diagonally through the lot and grass, and up the street where my door greets me.

From a dream V:

The setting was a Catholic church. We went together and with friends to a music festival there. Another car ride and we were alone in the back seat in an old 70's sedan. Three people sat up front in the large bench seat. Or maybe it was four, but I only knew one. Jesse peeked back at us and after laugher and mutual adoration we held hands. He caught us when he peeked and then whispered it to the others up front. I wasn't ashamed though, because to me in that moment it felt right. "It just felt right." Isn't that the explanation people give to others when they speak of love? Well this was just a dream, but as far as I can tell the dream me was as slow to feel as the real me. So we'll call it like for now.

There were many pews in the church. I don't remember walking in, only feeling excited for the bands that were playing. For some reason, I was very excited to see the Suicide Machines. The first band I can recall was the Sex Pistols. Although long broken up with their bassist dead, they still performed that night. Sans the guitarist and the drummer Johnny Rotten sang and the deceased Sid Vicious played drums. I was really into it. I was so into it I climbed up on the stage and was bobbing along to the beat with Sid. I was so into it that they became annoyed and removed me from the stage. When I came back to our seats I asked if you had seen me up there and I don't remember you replying, but I don't think you were as pumped to see the two member (one deceased, but apparently available to play the Catholic church festival) Sex Pistols.

We got up and wandered to a side hallway. I was excited to have you alone and not in a group. We soon noticed a very ornate door. We then went inside to discover more doors. Each door was labeled as an office or a study for either the head priest or others who helped to run the church. Looking around we discovered a red button. Decidedly we agreed that this was the emergency Pope button. Every Catholic church has one. Just in case they need the Pope's immediate attention or advice. How novel, how useful.

The wall at our backs then changed into a woods scene. We saw the head priest of the church and a bishop riding bikes together in the wilderness. This was a total normal occurrence and we thought nothing of it. The head priest was in front with the bishop behind and kind of keeping an eye on the priest. Sort of how a bridesmaid carries the train on a wedding dress as to not let it dirty on the ground. After watching them ride by the wall turned two dimensional again. Four to five men dressed in black Puritan type clothes approached us. Some had long hair, some had facial hair, some had unsightly moles on their cheeks. None of them were particularly good looking. Although none struck us as ugly. Just somewhere in between, with the old time settler type look in their eyes. I don't remember if they spoke to us.

You were thirsty so we decided to go out and get a drink at a restaurant. Before we left while walking through the side hallway we saw through a number of doors and Tears for Fears was performing at the church. The song? "Head Over Heels". After exiting we found a restaurant quickly and it was almost as if we were beamed there. It was a dimly lit, semi crowded, semi formal atmosphere. I believe we were both enjoying the dinner and each other's company. Maybe you have been the girl from my dreams this whole time. The nameless, faceless one who is neither judgmental or completely taken by me. At least, though, I know who you are.

From a dream: IV

I dunno why, but you're always there. I'm always coaxing you to do something. You're a phantom, woman...but you're always there. In a non specific sense, and with no identity you are always my partner in crime. I always feel a sense of devotion from you, but there is also something incomplete about it. And you most always have your reservations about our adventures. The most recent being the walk down the long hallway. You and I heard that Espo was giving away old pieces of his work for free. So we had to go check it out. I felt indebted to him, so I took a piece to trade. It's dominant color was yellow, and it was a good piece. It was a good sacrifice. On we walked down the long hallway. Woody, earthy sounds complimented our food steps and echoed like they always do. I with my piece, you walking beside me. We got to the last room on the right side of the hallway. It was emanating light into the dimly lit path we has just taken. We turned, and you went in first. We saw Espo himself handing out pieces. Though there were others in the room, it was not crowded. His space wasn't neat, but it was not messy. I told him I had a piece to trade and he was grateful. And he liked it.

From a dream III:

Opening the front door of my childhood home I stepped outside into an icy, snowy, wintery neighborhood. The street it's self was covered in a thick translucent coating of ice. Undaunted I climbed on my bike. My bike was rusty and the tires were not pumped. I was determined to ride it. On the snow, on the ice, come what may. The first troublesome sign that this was not going to be a good ride was that my front tire rolled over the rim. A sign that there was little to no air in the tube. I rode on. I made it no further than the neighbor to the right. He was in his indoor front porch and called me over. I got off my bike. When I did this the handle bars came cleanly off from there affixed position. They had rusted enough for the tube of steel to be eaten through and rendered useless. When I went to move my bike from the street, the seat and seat post (both rusted) similarly came dislodged. I was then on the front step of my neighbor's house. There, he and his blind son sat. My neighbor (George) wanted to know if I knew who was placing B.M.'s on cardboard and sitting them on his steps. I told him I had no clue. George then informed me that his blind son was conversing on a computer specifically built for those who could not see. His blind son had made a friend through a network on the internet. George was so proud and happy for his son and continued to explain his adoration until I woke.

From a dream II

....And last night, especially last night was a vivid one. A scene set in a dusty desert, and a car the same color. Early 90's Chrysler or Dodge in it's appearance. While the wind blew I tried to convince you. I told you to get into the beige junker and to take a ride with me. You would not. So I circled the car in an effort to present to you a noble chariot. It had it's normal 4 wheels. One wheel with the black highway grit rubbed on it's face with no hub cap. Another wheel had a white walled tire. The left front wheel had a plain hub cap. The 4th, the back left wheel shone our reflection so brightly it can hardly recall what was seen. It was a multi spoked 1970's luxury Cadillac hub cap. You were not impressed. I then showed you that the heap was also a convertible. I had never done this before, but I began to open the top. The convertible top was made of horse blanket wool and was scratchy but warm. The pattern was an exact replication of the flannel blanket on my bed with frills and all. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that the pattern that I love, the one on my blanket was now the top to this automobile. I remember you stood nonplussed. But what I remember most was the dust, the sun and the wind blowing.

I was in the garage of my father and on the wall hung it's normal adornments. A general assortment of cords, signs, golf clubs, train boards, a radio and more. One pair of shoes also hung from the wall. Knowing, but without knowing I knew they were his shoes. Beside that pair was a well worn sandal. I searched and searched for the other sandal. All through the garage I dug and I did not find it.

From a dream I:

I had a dream that there was a fire and a tornado at the same time in the old school building where my art was stored. It was the building across from the pond behind the old pool. They weren't using that room it was in, and I was going to ask them if I could use it as a studio. I had just taken down some pieces which I had entrusted them to hang and store. When I got there they were only attached to the wall with tape placed across the corners of each drawing. One was partially covered with what seemed to be gesso or white house paint. Out of the people who were with me no one cared. So I stored my supplies and what had hung in the building in the room that they weren't using, the room I was going to ask to use as my studio.

That night at the same time, there was a fire and a tornado. It destroyed the old school building completely. No one seemed to care. But one lady did. It was miss lonely hearts from Rear Window. She came to tell me about the fire and tornado. She then took me over to what remained of the school.

As we walked over, the starting power forward for the Miami Heat, Michael Beasley walked with us. He and I talked about the Rose Bowl and the Florida State Seminals. We were both positive that the last name of their starting quarterback was Wenger (This is untrue, although Notre Dame does have a starting offensive lineman named Dan Wenger). He walked off as I sifted through the rubble. I don't remember if I found anything, but miss lonely hearts from Rear Window cared. And I encouraged her to tell the men upstairs that music saved her life.

Frustrations in Globalization

Anything everywhere is here.
Everything anywhere is here.

People documented in flashes
Images sold and images bought
and dear little Indians are our new toys

Why did we celebrate this poverty under the well lit walls?
Or coax the smile from their lips?
Sigh...it's them do it all Christians girls and boys.

"I don't regret nothin': After summer we sat by the pine trees. Neither of us really knew each other, and it was good. Remember when you lost all that weight? I would have taken you as you were. As you were that day by my trees. Not as you were when it came to a halt. Secretly, I knew, that he changed too for you. You lost that weight and he grew his hair. You wore tight jeans, and he grew his hair. You adored him, and he adored you and he grew his hair. So in the end, you both changed. But like I said, I would have taken you as you were. That day after summer, by the fire pit, by the pines and before you lost that weight."

I'm depressed because I heard MCA got cancer.

With teeth stained like wine
I always seem to fall for you

We'll enjoy our shameful smiles for awhile
and ending up face down in the gutter

We'll reconsider love's choices
but always fall for her suggestions

Washed with blood we'll always feel the same
what can't be earned in our mind
may never be cemented in our hearts

With one slip on wet pavement
our justifications slip away
an allusion to the color of our drink

A funny thing popped into my head today about babies. The saying goes "It takes a village..." but sometimes when unruly children are around I sometimes think to myself "Did they ask the villagers?".

I call this a nibblet.

I'd be sure to lie with you.
I'd lie beside you.
I'd in unison sigh with you.

I submitted some pieces for an art auction for Habitat for Humanity in Bloomington. Something I've always battled with is does my art actually make a difference, does it help anyone? So when the opportunity came up, I really wanted to. I knew in my head that the paintings wouldn't sell for anything near what I price them at. So the selling price didn't surprise me. All I have to say is that one thing about helping others is that your pride must take a secondary role. You have to stop thinking about how you are better than someone and reach out. This auction just reinforced my thoughts regarding that. I knew it would. I just hope the total of $76 USD can help with the house building.

Gaza Strip like a gold mine of mine.
When she shines, she shines like an idea.

But like so many other ideas,
none as good as first thought.

Gaza Strip like a forlorn waste land,
sand blows and sun burns.

If only we'd known how crazy she'd be to us
Armageddon would've never come.

Sorry I haven't posted in awhile...my computer got stolen.

Lord, I'm small potatoes.

OK, I am typing this out a little to get my thoughts written down and to get options open. I am also writing this for opinions, and suggestions, also to let whomever cares know what's going on.

Firstly, my lease ends in May. My room mates, seem to be moving to NYC, or at least they really want to. Many of you know I have lived in 4 places since graduation. I have also had to move studio spaces 6 times. It's really hard to find stable room mates here. Most are students who can't afford it, or people moving on.

I have a great job which has provided me with tons of expendable income. That is good and bad. The good of it has been that I have had the cash flow to go and see other parts of the country, and visit family as often as I can. The bad is that I feel like it has lulled me into a slothful view of life.

My art has gotten progressively better year by year, and I have no complaints there. But Marion, as you know, isn't exactly conducive to a comfortable art "career" or one in general. Although, like I said...I have gotten more commissions and have sold more each year. These are such blessings.

Sorry this is so long.

I have many many many options come May. The 3 I am looking at are Indianapolis, Nashville, and I guess I will let the cat out of the bag...Portland.

Indy has a certain appeal. I have certainly participated in a handful of shows there. I also know about 10 people. Herron School of Art is there, and I was thinking possible graduate work in Painting. It's also relatively close to Ohio, and we all know I seemingly cannot cut the family cord. Other than a few Indianians, my dad is probably my best friend (also a huge blessing)

Ok, on to Nashville. I know 10 to 25 people here. Especially after all the Hershbergers migrate there. It would be a good support group. As far as I can tell Nashville has a good art community for it being in the Midwest. Mary Hackett is one of my favorite artists and she has studio space and shows there. Nashville is also relatively close to Ohio. (See above)

Portland, Ore. My hesitation here is the extreme distance from family. I know nothing about the city (I have been to Nashville only once though, too) I know 5 to 10 people here. I really enjoyed what I saw, and love bikes so that was a plus. Another plus is a good Indiana friend is moving out there (Benji, duh). Also, Lindsey lives out there. I don't want to be like everyone else and just move out there kind of randomly (no offense). I also don't want to be a tag along and have it not work out well and have to move back to Ohio. Seemingly PDX has a pretty good art community, but I don't really know about demand or anything. But I suppose we all need to find a niche somewhere.

Other long shots include: Bloomington IN, Florida, or even Chicago (ew)

Or, I could stay another year and try to stay in this house. The toughy would be to find room mates. I don't want to move to ANOTHER place in Marion.

I just feel like I can't really draw anymore.

I wish to be bilingual, I wish to bridge gaps. I wish to influence lives through mine. I wish I could be a better person. Please fill my short comings, and erase my guilt.

Here is a piece done by Derek Hess, one of my favorite artists. He is based in Cleveland, and I have met him a few times (years ago). I read his blog quite frequently, and even though I may not be a Democrat, I still respect his involvement in politics. We are blessed to have a political system that is run partly by it's citizens. Though it may not be perfect, and maybe there is no perfect candidate...it could be worse. I know I should "support" those candidates which are Republican, but I can't. I see too much corruption and back talking. If I vote Obama/Biden, I hope I am not merely voting for a new kind of politics, but one which is open to all belief and acceptance. Because our differences should be celebrated and people should be loved, and not segregated into categories which damn them. I'm sick of being a Christian and voting Republican and being in a box. My life isn't reduced to "wedge" issues as it seems the Republicans make it. I'm sorry, but gay marriage, abortion, and immigration are not issues of my Faith, but they are issues which are about humanity. For me, the best way to serve humanity is not to judge it, but to love the unloved and to serve them as Christ would.

I don't know why I work so hard sometimes. I just feel like I am spinning my wheels in most areas of life. Spiritual, art, relationships, etc. Goals I have feel like rubber band dreams. Just when I think I am getting closer to one, it slingshots away. People say "That's how life is...blah, blah, blah." Thanks for not listening, people.

I don't know what I'm doing, or why I do it.

Tel Aviv

Tel Aviv we've not stopped living
Tel Aviv we've worn it on our sleeve
Tel Aviv we've separated
Tell her we've won.

Oh dear forlorn lady in the desert
Oh dear a lady amongst the sand
Oh dear she's lost it, it's something important
Oh dear that lady, she seems so grand

Tel Aviv you know what she's doing
Tel Aviv you know where she's been
Tel Aviv it's Lebanon calling
Tell her that she's the one.

The quarter, followed closely by the Susan B. Anthony dollar is my favorite coin.

Sometimes (ok most times) when I get quarters in change I look at their dates. For some reason, I try to imagine where they have been and who have spent them. I try not to think about how dirty money is, but of nuance of an inanimate object. They don't know where they've been or anything. They just are. They are a necessity to society and have impact in economy by just being in existence.

I think the oldest quarter I have gotten in awhile is a 1962. Think about the historical happenings of those times and apply it to the quarter it's self. It's kind of a neat reflection on the state our lives are in.

Why can't we all be as stalwart a quarter?

Today someone told me my art was 67 years too late.

Yeah, I suppose it's true that I really don't know exactly what I want from life.

I have to document this, because of it's oddity. It so closely resembles fate, I can scarcely disbelieve in it anymore. Ok, for those of you who have known me for a long time/remember/read this at all...you might remember my first screen name was a laughable "daftpunk68". We didn't have AOL so I couldn't get the coveted @aol.com suffix. But the next best thing in email then was Yahoo. So I promptly made a user name there as daftpunk86@yahoo.com. No, that's not a mistype, I couldn't get 86 for an AIM name so I switched the number around. We being that I "matured" over time, I wanted a new, untraceable user name for my yahoo.com email. I came up with, in 2001 "b765_b@yahoo.com" I wanted something simple and easy to remember, so I used the numbers "765". About a year later when researching schools I chose Indiana Wesleyan and have spent 7 years off and on here. Well I just noticed the choice of my email slightly predates my arrival to Marion, In...which conveniently has the area code of what? "765".

"Why I never got married? Well, I was always afraid that my wife might look at one of my paintings and say: 'Mmm very nice, dear...' There's love and there's painting. And we only have one heart" - Edgar Degas

I don't know how I feel about this one:

(Untitled)

Get away from me multi swimsuited girl

Blackberry me!

Oh-so-cute, and I'm in love.

You drink.

I wanted to document this limerick of sorts:

Cannibalism 101

If you are what you eat,
and dead people are the feast...
Than you are not alive.
Not in the least.

May my wants be needs and my needs be pure. Let blessings flow in right time, and let patience accompany me until then. I swear I'll try, I promise I'll try, I'll be a light pointing backwards to You. Create a lead path, one well seen, so no doubt may seed. Just my feet on the path and my eyes on Your deed.

The following is a random text I received today on the drive home:

#: "wol need to give me back my hair straightener back before the cops get involved Jj-lashana"

Me: "Girl u right"

#: "Yea just wait till they test you. You will fail for all the drugs you do. All you had to do was give it back"

At this point, I decided to not text back. I didn't want to escalate a text war with someone who thought I was someone else. It was worth it for the reply though.

Tonight I was at the local video store and they had Sega games for sale for 2 bucks. I should have bought one, but the only choices were Baseball '95 and Tennis. I examined the tennis one and decided it was a no go. Then the cashier asked me if I was interested in buying one and I said kind of, because I still play my old Sega. He was really impressed and asked me what I played most. I told him NBA JAM T.E. then we agreed the original was better, but this one was still good. Good convo. I kind of wanted to launch in to the story about me saving all my money in like 6th grade to buy my own Sega (which was then $100) but I didn't I think I saved myself some embarrassment.

I'm not sure I can count on my hands how many people I know who are pregnant or have newborns right now. Should I be frightened?

Art show tonight. Should be good.

"Old Tooth" - Alumni Show - Maxwell Shutt, Jeff Beaver, Chris Boyer, Julie Schrock, Eric Helvie. 6PM - 10PM - 1920 Gallery - IWU Student Center.

Happy St. Patrick's day.

Sometimes I can't help but feel alone with my art. I put so much work into it, I get praise and a certain level of fulfillment. But often times it's the most time consuming thing in my life. It's like being a single dad. (stick with me here) You have to make constant arrangements to make sure you have a space, you turn down plans to hang out with inanimate objects, you are perceived as being lazy or a mooch, it costs time and money to produce, it takes time to earn the money to produce it, most often you don't get money for it, you don't get what you truly desire from it. Which for me, that's mainly an understanding between you and the viewer. Or a respect. Most of the time, you get empty compliments, false praise, disapproving comments/glances etc. For what? It has to be the least fulfillment per hour spent out of any job I know besides teaching, janitorial services, or being a garbage man. All of with are so integral to modernity. And so is art. So then what?

I have friends who give good advice, but aren't as invested as maybe parents or a significant other. My parents are 4 hours away, and I am most definitely single. I really desire someone to be totally transparent with. I want to be that person for someone too, but I can't help but think that those are selfish desires. And as said in previous posts I believe as humans we are meant to love and be loved. Although, both I would say are getting something out of that too.

Women for the most part in my experience don't want to take a back seat to anything (understandably so) and even though I desire what I said above, my art is a major passion of mine too. Thus my thinking I will probably not have what I desire anytime in the near future.

I'm sick of college towns and students, I'm sick of their out look. I'm sick of my own outlook, and I drastically need a change. I believe I am better than the state at which I sit presently. I just have so many bills coming up, I don't think I can afford to pay for a move. I'm just stuck.

Well I have all my pieces framed and ready to go for my show Friday. People keep asking me if I am excited, and I don't really know if I am. I usually don't get excited. I get nervous. Then half way through I don't want it to end. Then I get so tired it's almost unbearable. But one thing remains, and that is I am so thankful to do art, and to have the love of friends who want to come see it. I pray I make a difference in their lives.

Sounds so cliche, but you really have to do everything by yourself. No one will be there to help you. So if you want something done, get off your ass and do it. Pull yourself up by your boot straps and don't rely on anyone, they'll let you down.

Trust only in His trust.

Sometimes I feel like the desires of my life some how impeded on a grand scheme. I feel guilty half of the time, and hopeful the other half. The thing about desire is that you never know how sinful and self serving they actually could be. I'm not really sure about this, but it seems like I keep figuring out the only things in life I want are for me. According to a grand scheme, it's not about me, it's pretty much about everyone else.

I don't feel like I can really trust myself, considering I am so fallen. My self esteem when it comes to deliverance is next to nothing. Guilt sometimes makes me feel like a lost cause. Just when I think I can't get any lower, it tricks me and down I fall.

I guess my ultimate question is: Why do I feel guilty for a pang of neediness in my heart? I was created to need only One, but I often feel so lonely. Should I want and need the things of this world that ultimately reflect God? I feel unworthy enough as it is, but when I start thinking about the possibility I am just reminded how I don't NEED that fulfillment.

I just need some relief and someone to talk to.

Looks like I'm moving studio's again. Ho-hum.

Worked from 7AM to 4PM. Took a break, came home. Then into the studio from 5PM to 10PM. I got a lot done, including RRL's text, stretched a canvas, and started on my show flyer. Pretty productive, but I am exhausted. I get a mini vacation to Ohio this weekend, so that will help.

Walked into a random downstairs apt. in the same building as my studio. I wasn't really informed that someone would be living there. And the back door is the only door I have the key to. Needless to say, it was pretty awkward. Poor people were just enjoying dinner on the couch. So now I need to get the key to the front door so I don't have to cut through the rented apt. So weird. I just saw my landlord at the gas station, and he just said hi and nothing else. We didn't even discuss the situation. Ah, life.

Recent happenings:
RRL album art
2 possible shows in March
Year 3 24''x 24'' painting
Possible H&W album art?

Longest and most productive weekend in a long while.

This is kind of a joke writing I wrote about brushing teeth. I like it.

To get the cleanest clean
Foam functions

Don't use a wire brush
Gauze function

To sop it all up
But at least I'm tuff.

I slept in my studio last night, and I swear there were people walking around upstairs. It's a really old big house with a million and a half apartments built on. Today, before working on some sketches, I climbed up and looked in the attic. There were a bunch of old boxes. It was really dirty, or I would have dug around up there. I will later.

Goodbye Lenfesty/Fester Center. Hello Pink House/Art Haus. I officially changed studios again. I don't know how permanent this one will be. BUT, there is heat, and it's closer to my house. I can walk there! I am thankful for my provisional blessings. They also seem to be my most superficial...but: beds, a good vehicle, good health, a place to work, family, and friends have all saturated my life.

A water pipe burst in my studio, and everyone moved out. So, that being said, it's not worth it for the land lord to keep it open. So on the 14th, I am moving into a room in his house. That I can supposedly use whenever I want. Hopefully that goes well. At least there will be heat there! Oh, and not to mention running water!

I guess I've been busy.

I'm going to a jazz concert tonight. Alone. Like a creepy old man. But at least the girl asked me if I wanted a student ticket. This means I still have street cred.

The smell of fire places and bonfires burning. It makes me so sappy. I wish I had someone to be sappy with.

I think tonight I made a realization just how much I need/want/enjoy "decompression" time.

I also realized I would love to find someone who loves that I need/want/enjoy "decompression" time.

It's funny how closely my life aligns to a diver's depth. I feel like I work in a constant barrage of social interaction at work. And when I come home I love to just regenerate with a little bit of quiet before I feel just about ready to go out, or go back to work (in the studio). And although working in the studio is very enjoyable I still kind of need decompression before I do it. To clear my head. Sometimes it's so bad I need like 2 days of decompression before I work in the studio or go out in a large group.

If anything the loss of a relationship strengthens my resolve to find someone who fits me well. Because no one else can really work, other than a good fit. With others I just leave them worn out or confused. Or in need of their own decompression.

I also know I started 2 sentences with the word and. Sorry.

Jailed

Our first kiss was in jail
Our first kiss was in the holding cell, it was a stiff backed bench sleepless night secret

We held hands in the cop car
We held hands in the cold clamped secure backseat, it was a cordoned off secret

It was a police line catastrophe -- hit and run hold up love

We last kissed in front of the judge
We last kissed in view of the jury, and it wasn't fanciful and ha-ppy

We were convicted of first class forgery
We were convicted of second class perjury

It was a public nuisance -- domestic disturbance embezzled love

First base, Second base, Third base.
And now love is the swinging gallowed dead corpse creepy love.

Birdcalls II (Again)

Tonight I was driving and I looked up ina secon' story window.
I saw a silhouette of a woman
An she was changing...
She was changing her mind.

She weren't changin' er clothes she was changin' her mind.
Well you know ow it goes
You know ow it's been
When she comes around it's back to the pastures again.

And it's me back to my pastor's again.
Seein' what I can to do just to get Jesus, get (h)'im my sins tend.
Seein' what I can do to get my heart to mend.

Been there before and written again...
Bird calls, and bird calls and again and again.
CAT CALLS, CAT CALLS CAT CALLS BEGIN!

But if I don change myself:
She'll be there again.
Standin' in the window changin' er mind again.

It makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Long time, no post.

Kind of an update on what is going on so the one to maybe two people can read it. Maybe get some hope from the fact that maybe their life is better than mine. Or they can just pretend. Anyway here is the low down.

Living situation: Upon graduating last summer I moved into a house with a few friends who were and are also still graduates. It was on Landess St. 3812 to be exact. After each one went their separate ways I moved into a new one bedroom apt. on Harmon St. 4523 and 1/2 apt 2. I lived there, slept on a couch for a year. Had some people over, advanced relationships with girls and friends and this August I moved out. I moved across 38th St. in the direction of due north to 3628 Harmon St. I live here with Zack and Frank whom I have known for going on 4 years and Pat whom I just met this summer. We have a dog, and a gas stove and a fire pit. Pretty cool stuff.

Working situation: Since graduation I have been working on the Paint Crew for the school. Repairing dents, scratches and painting whole walls all through out campus and dorms and bathrooms what have you. I may achieve full time status by the end of the month. Not that exciting but it gets me money for the next and the most important part of this update.

Art situation: Living in houses and not having much space to work on painting and drawing has been difficult. I went from a back kitty litter smelling studio (Landess St.) where I completed 3 or so paintings and about 30 drawings...to a bed room with bad lighting and sometimes a dog cage. This is where I competed a 4th painting while also a 5th and partially a 6th. And about 30 drawings. When late August came around I moved into a studio space on 29th and Home St. In an abandoned church I have completed a painting and about 6 little card drawings and a regular drawing. For $50 bucks a month I am around 3 other artists and am feeling way more productive. Pretty good digs, although we discovered a leaky roof dampness creating a musty smell and a wet carpet the other day. I am also currently working on getting a website going to show case most of the work I have created since last summer and future gallery shows etc.

Hope this is thorough enough for all you strangers.

My Indiana

Here there are barns full of junk.
Ever notice how the rain starts and they rot from the ground up?

Crooked doors and the windows show a shady clutter.
Full from brim to brawn with saws that've sawn.

Mini whispers about this and that...with the corn that was long ago replaced for progression.
Be it cheaper or be it prosper, they'll never know...any better.

I forgot how looking for "artist" jobs on craigslist depressed me.

After I am surrounded by love, I feel so attacked.

I don't know.

I'm still driving on Will's gas.
And I'm -- still -- driving -- on -- Will's -- gas.
Thanks, Will. For the gas.

You know that song you liked?
The one you liked so much?
For me -- it's a shredded curtain blown by wind.

It is held together now...with:
1.Weak strands woven through ventricles.
2. (Inaudible medical mumblings)
For -- me it was like little pins...

It's held together now, like a glued rock.
It's safely tied!...In a knotted sock.
It's cemented now in Plaster of Paris.
It's a frozen fossil now, Allosaurus fragilis...

Planted architecture, and locked beer cases.
Familiar places - non familiar faces.
This started my hoarsest week.
My chest is solid.

I miss you and I don't even know you.
And I'm so ready to love

Thanks for taking all my advice and using it for your next conquer. And using up all the grace I had inside of me. I make no excuses, and I am not cool. I don't have a hat to match a jacket. I felt like I was in highschool again.

I'm not cool, but I like who I am.

It's not strength I seek, it's the power of the meek.

It will take a miracle, or it will take a million years...
for me to come around again.
I'll always be wrong and weak.

Love me and to the grass I go.
Cattle, and pit bulls.
Bird calls, cat calls.
Bird calls, cat calls.
Cat calls!

It's not you in the foreground, it's you...
In the back!

"Lord help me change."
"Lord I'll need what I prayed for yesterday today too."

I sold a piece at the 1920 Gallery show. It was an 8'' by 11'' drawing called Twinkie Temptation. Pretty encouraging. I have yet to find out who purchased it. If it isn't someone I know it will be my first sale to someone who has no relation/friendship with me. If it is someone I know, it will still be ok, because I love the fact that people respect the work I pour myself into. The compliment of a purchase is a golden feeling of validation that I haven't felt very much growing up doing art.

I'm much to nostagic for my friends most of the time, so there are always things I want to tell them, but feel that if I did it would be a little too mushy. Either that or my thought comes out a garbled mess of speech not wholly conveying what I had planned to say. So I am going to make a mini list.

The friend who I look forward to working with.
The couples who have provided for me.
The girl who is extremely encouraging. (She has no idea)
Witty and rediculously girl magnet friends.
Those who really care.
The one who makes me laugh the hardest.

If you think one of these is you, it probably is.

I found out a few days ago that the stray cat which annoys (the one I have an on going feud with) my neighbors and I is actually "owned" by the lady a few houses away. Why doesn't she keep it inside on -8 degree days? I don't know. But she evidently cracks her garage in the summer.

Last night I dreamt I had a new 6.0, Canon megapixel camera. Then I woke up to find I had none. What a bummer. When I was little like 7 or 8 I had a similar dream about a skateboard. The next morning, I ran out to the garage to go use my skateboard to find I did not have one. Again, what a bummer.

I also had a dream about a ghost cat that I thought I killed, but when I threw things at it, they went right through it. So I could not kill it. When I went down to my car to go to work, that same stupid black stray cat was waiting for me. I think for revenge.

So the show went well, except for the last hour or so which was spent getting evaluated by my friends who think they see male reproductive organs in my paintings. Everyone from far away came, including Charissa, Samo, and Katrina. I was pleased with that. I handed out a lot of hand made business cards so that was good. Still as nervous as always.

Sometimes I really think I will never escape myself.

Sometimes I am ok with this, other times I'm not.

At least I know I am loved.

I have some drawing and paintings in a art show coming up.

Monday, Feb. 5th 2007
1920 Gallery
Indiana Wesleyan University S.C.
from 4 to 10pm






Change me, Change me, Change me.

Just when I think I can't get any lower, I do.

Things affect me way too much. I feel like I can't change this.

I'm a workaholic and I care more than enough for dime jobs that don't even matter.

I cannot be myself under stress. I need to grow up.

First snow of the season and of 2007 in Marion, Indiana is to be recorded for January 15th through 16th.

Well I don't want just a girl to fool around with
Well I don't want just a girl to ball alright
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all.
Alright

Well I won't pretend I like a girl if I really don't
And act like she's great when she makes me feel appalled
All I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all.

Well I don't want some cocaine sniffing triumph in the bar
Well I don't want a triumph in the car
I don't want to make a rich girl crawl
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want no one at all
Alright, listen to this now.

Picture this:
I'm walking with my girlfriend
28 misguided souls combined say, "We're moving in"
There's a certain kind of girl that you care about so much
You say, "I don't care what you guys do to me, but her, DON'T TOUCH!"

'Cause I don't want just a girl to fool around with
I don't want just a girl to ball
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all
Oh alright

Well I don't want a girl to fool around with no
I don't want just a girl to ball no
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all.

Alright gentlemen.

I'm shallow.

R.I.P. James Brown.

Sometimes I can't believe how fear and uncertainty start to weasel their way into my life. I want to do things, but then I think about how things in my life are so unstable, I can't bank on them staying the same. So it stops me, and inhibits me. I am confused on how to live life, should I play my cards close? Or should I just do what I want to do? And how can I be sure it's fear stopping me and not better judgment?

At the same time, I am content. I have a peace, and I don't worry as much as I used to. I trust a lot more. How much of my life can be fulfilled? Are my desires to love and to live selfish ones?

I just want to love Christ, and show it. I want to meet someone who wants to do the same. Maybe we can grow together. But am I good enough for that? Am I immature and idealistic? Or will someone blow me away?

I want God to live in and around me, and I want to live in him. I want to eventually share that as a common interest with someone.

"Lord help me change."
"Lord I'll need what I prayed for yesterday today too."

Movies I like in which John Williams has composed the music for: (In chronological order of release)

The Towering Inferno (1974)
Jaws (1975)
Star Wars (1977)
Superman (1978)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
Star Wars: the Empire Strikes Back (1982)
E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
Star Wars: the Return of the Jedi (1983)
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)
Space Camp (1986)
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
Home Alone (1990)
Hook (1991)
Schindler's List (1993)
Seven Years in Tibet (1997)
Minority Report (2002)
Catch Me if You Can (2002)
The Terminal (2004)
Munich (2005)

Count them it's 19 and 5 before I was born.

I'm so sick of it.

One thing I love about nature's most extreme seasons (winter, and summer) is that it creates a sort of unity in people. In the winter, there is nothing I love more than rosey cheeks and warm drinks. The chill of the wind and the snow is hard on our bodies. We are in this together, (unfortunately those in mild climates don't get much winter) this is survival. Even though modern day inventions have helped us along, there is nothing we can do to change our frosty plight once each of us reach the great outdoors. There are days when even our coats hold no significance. In John Knowles' book "Peace Breaks Out" (and this is paraphrased) he writes about exactly the day of which I speak. One line to do with it being so cold the air is like spikes in our lungs. No one can avoid this, we are all human and mortal.

We suffer together.

Now for summer. Since most places which do not have a winter season have a summer, this is what draws me to it. During the hot months (July, August) the sun is at it's peak. Especially where I live, it is humid, hot and sticky. Tanning, and more specifically burning is going to happen. Whether it is because of lack of sunscreen or sunscreen with insufficient SPF it happens. People cannot really avoid tan lines or (much worse) burn lines. Even a baseball cap with a ponytail through it can't prevent the sun's damage.

And in summer, we all suffer together.

This may be a little bit weird to admit, but I like tan lines and nearly frost bitten cheeks. It is so endearing.

Now I can see that everything meant nothing. Your actions display your true confusion, and I'm not buying in anymore. I can't take another promise broken through "naivete". You say you want stability and faith, but all too often you seem blinded by the desires of your heart.

And I know it's hard to decipher which are good and which are bad desires, because both good and bad desire flow from the same functioning muscle.

The muscle which keeps you alive.

Right now, Matthew seems so right.

I'm done and few things matter anymore.

I may always have salvation, and I have a choice to not choose damnation. But depression has no choice. It is inflicted. And you seem to impose a life sentence sometimes.

I don't have much feeling in my fingertips. So far, this has probably been one of my best weeks since sometime in the summer.

Blessings and curses.

I'll always be your best friend.

I am in a unique place in life. I have just a tad more responsibility than when I was in college. I don't have the pressure to perform for grades, and I motivate myself. I am not tied down to a specific place. I chose to live here. Since I am none of the things I listed, I can be a great friend to all those still present in Marion.

I want to try to devote and invest into people. I have the time, and I have the people. I want to be a great provider of encouragement, honestly, and an example of Christ.

I do not want to condemn, or be over opinionated. I just want to make sure these people know that someone still cares and there are still people who value others.

I am not just another person out to gain from friendship. I want them to gain, I want to be taken advantage of and used.

All the while being refreshed by Christ.

As told by wikipedia: The White Panther party ethos reads:

In November of 1968, Fifth Estate published the "White Panther State/meant". This manifesto, in emulation of the Black Panthers, ended with a ten-point program:

Full endorsement and support of Black Panther Party's 10-Point Program
Total assault on the culture by any means necessary, including rock n' roll, dope and fucking in the streets.
Free exchange of energy and materials - we demand the end of money!
Free food, clothes, housing, dope, music, bodies, medical care - everything free for everybody!
Free access to information media - free the technology from the greed creeps!
Free time and space for all humans - dissolve all unnatural boundaries.
Free all schools and all structures from corporate rule - turn the buildings over to the people at once!
Free all prisoners everywhere - they are our brothers.
Free all soldiers at once - no more conscripted armies.
Free the people from their "leaders" - leaders suck - all power to all the people freedom means free everyone!

What a bunch of freakin' hippies.

I probably shouldn't be alone on nights like this. I should probably go to bed (it's only 9:30), but I think I want to paint. I think if I do, I would end up ruining something. Perhaps that's just what I need.

I feel old and out of it sometimes. I feel unattached and out of the loop. I'm as quarky as I've ever been, and maybe more.

One rent check away from bankruptcy.

Is my nephew Lou Reed?

So three new opprotunities to show have popped up. Two seem like good venues to show and sell work. One seems like it would just be a fun thing, and it's free. So no harm in that. Besides I might be pleasantly surprised about the outcome. My sure bet of the summer DJG proved to be the biggest let down. Didn't sell a thing.

I am going to try to make some pieces which bridge the gap between my sketches and fine art. They may be more accesible to the viewer. Not as descrete and less in price due to the size, and time put into them. Maybe if I sell a few of these and start a fan base, in the future they will buy prints and then maybe paintings.

It's kind of hard to start something in this town, but one thing is for sure, if I can get blue collar people to buy expensive work it seems like in a city with actual expendible income they will also sell. Although, so far, my experiences in Indianapolis haven't been promising. I may need a city on a coast or a seaport in order to move some pieces from my apt. to a "collector".

I really hope I don't read this in 5 years and consider it too idealistic. Please pray for me.

Paint crew until December?

I ran 12 miles today, and I think the joints in my knees are going to disintegrate.

I am posting this from my house. I opened my computer today, and I had two dots of wireless. So I decided to make a celebratory post. Friday I am moving out of said house. Zack said he would help me so that's good. I have work in ten mins, and this may be my earliest post to date.

It's going to be weird to have students be back in Marion and not be one. I have friends still in school plotting out their year and it's exciting, and I will never be back. When I graduated, I felt like I was so ready to be done. Now I realize there were certain great things about college that I will miss.

Some of them include:
Lone walks around campus
The art building stairs
"Reading" in the SC
Being a T.A. helping people with projects

I figured summer meant no one was coming back to school, and in a weird way that made sense that it ended for everyone when it ended for me. It's a completely different campus this year with all the construction. It may turn out that I feel like I never even went there.

R.I.P. I.W.U.

People having babies! Well this person was my sister, so meet Tate Alexander!