Citizen Cope - Clarence Greenwood - Louisville

Well, he's comin' to town again. I'm debating seeing the show or not. I really enjoy his music, but the last time I saw him the doors opened at 8 and he took the stage some time well after 11, if memory serves. He appeared stoned or drunk stiff, as well.

I don't beleive we have a right to pry into artists personal lives and so I don't much care what he does on his own time, but I supported him when he came into town and played at a tiny bar in Louisville. I emailed a bigger local venue pushing his name and saying he'd be sure to pack a crowd there, and I emailed his promoters to let them know they'd likely do well at that venue. I also suggested playing 'live lunch', but don't know if they did that. I pushed his CD on friends and coworkers and tried to encourage others to check out the gig with me. I also let his drummer wear my hat. (drummer seemed pretty cool, incidentally - good band).

No, I don't think I deserve a cookie for this. I'm certainly no super-fan. I don't read articles about the dude or know his story or frequent his forum (checked it out a long time ago and got bored). But, I try to support up-and-coming artists as well as made-it-but-not-huge-yet artists. I paid hard earned money to see his show and elbowed a friend into going with me. I don't think that being in the music business makes you a public slave. You personal life should still be yours. However, I also don't think it makes your time more valueable than anyone elses. Show a little respect for your fans, for your fellow man, and don't make them wait for hours on end.

I may still go when he rolls in on the 15th. I like the music enough to shell out the dough, I guess, but only if I bring a book to kill time and make sure my boss is perfectly alright with me coming in late on Friday.

Maybe if I hadn't been exposed to hard-working bands like Digby, I would be accustomed to rudeness from musicians, but I know from experience that musicians can have talent and still be good guys. If Digby made it big, I wouldn't expect them to really remember me much (don't really know them well), but I feel pretty certain that they would still be good guys and not act as if everyone else's time was theirs to flush like tp. Well, I'll keep the old "benefit of doubt" dangling out there. Maybe he had a migraine or ate too many white castles. Heck, maybe he had a panic attack. I doubt it, but who knows. A "sorry I took so long" would have been something, though.

my thoughts on his last show

Chopping of the hair?

I was very seriously contemplating a chopping off of my rather long hair. I made this very sloppy quicky sketch of how I would want it cut. I was getting really psyched about it, but then remembered I could no longer wear kanzashi (japanese hair stick decoration/pins) if my hair was short. Now being able to wear kanzashi might make me leave it long.

I hate the limitations of short hair (not being able to style it different ways) but I love the way it looks and how it gets in my way much less.

What do you think? Can we take a poll? Leave it very long and plain, or cool but short?

Brandi (yes, she is a fine girl)

I found this pic online a long time ago. I no longer recall where, and it looks just like my friend Brandi (although her hair is longer, now). It's just so weird... looks so much like her.

Hungry Cosa

The pic is a bit blurry, but this is a shot of that baby bird I tried to rescue some time back. All mouth, wasn't she? It must have taken only a couple drops sucked down the wrong pipe to do her in. I hate that I failed so miserably at saving her life, but it is common for dropper-fed wildlife to suck food down the wrong pipe. The chances of her being successfully returned to the wild, with any real chance of survival, would have been slim to nil anyway. But, she deserved a chance. Poor Cosa. Cosita pobre.
What a cute ugly featherless thing.

Funtional art...

...my favorite sort of art, as it breathes life into daily life, to have such things around. (same reason I still want to make furniture) These lovely items were made of wood by the talented lathe-master, Shane. I wish I had a close-up to show the incredible grains in the vase. The vase has the bark edge still attached at top. I've heard from others that this sort of work is extremely difficult and that the peices tend to want to split during final stages. Shane seems to have quite the knack for this, though. If you are at all interested in buying some of his work, comment here and I'll track down his email address and web info. He charges FAR less than most artists of his caliber.

Suche

This sushi-inspired Nori Quiche was my first experiment with quiches. The crust is simply a layer of sushi rice. The quiche part contains nori seaweed, carrots, green onions, and sweet red onions that were first sauteed in sesame oil (plus various seasonings). It would have been better with crab in it, but Stephen is allergic to shelfish. Of course, it turns out he hates nori anyway so I could have loaded it with crab.
Next time, I'll just make a spinach quiche with italian cheeses and an italian-rice crust. -could be a tasty way to feed protiens to my veggie niece, too. Good thing she isn't vegan.

Smokin'

Someone gave us a smoker (yippie!) and Stephen tried it for the first time today. This pic was taken minutes ago. You can barely see the beef brisket in the upper right, but that tasty chicken is plenty visable. Can't wait till it's done. It's a shame that the pure cold-pressed rosemary oil I ordered isn't here yet. A smidge of that and some balsamic vinegar diluted with wine or something injected here and ther in a bird, plus a dry rosemary and garlic rub on the outside would likely be devine.

Pinto Pork Pot

When we finally bought a stove a few weeks back, we still had no pots and pans. I had a casserole dish, though, so in that I threw together pinto beans, great northern beans, big chunks of pork, sweet onions, savory and other seasonings and invented the "pinto pork pot". It goes VERY well with homemade cornbread, and I managed to make some with pure cornmeal and gluten-free flour. Nothing tops cornbread better than real butter (margerine is outlawed in my kitchen).

Mmmm... Yum!

At a party I went to a while back, someone brought this lovely litter cake. It's pudding and cookie crumbs and cake... really it is. Personally, I like the melted tootsie roll hung on the side of the litter box. I didn't get to taste it (sugar allergy thing, ya know) but I really wanted to.

Road trippy

I've been whining about wanting a road trip, but when I had the chance I declined. Stephen couldn't go along so I would have been far, far away from home (and my kitchen) without his support, at the mercy of restaurant food, and probably getting the crowd-triggered migraines I usually get at large social gatherings. I wimped out. Too much anxiety about the whole thing. I'm ashamed of it, but will try not to dwell on it. (when did I become such a wuss? that must change!)

Well, I have to take a trip. Stephen and I need a getaway anyway. So, we'll go someplace not too far and I'll bring my rice-steamer and my hotplate so I can make some food in the room. I'll bring protien shakes and drinkable aloe (soothes allergic reactions inside much like it does sunburn on the outside).

I can't wait. I just hope it really happens. I need confirmation from him that he can get off work, and I need it in time to make reservations. But, hopefully things will time out ok. Now... if only I could figure out how to have my skin sealed in silicone so I could swim in the pool without getting sick from a chlorine reaction.... Ok, I may sound wimpy but I make up for it in stubborness. Backbone of steel(normally), head of cast-iron, and the stomach of a pansy. :P

My life is a see-saw on the serotonometer

I guess if you enjoy the manic highs, you gotta expect the lows too. It all evens out somehow. :D

During my last move, I found a roll of film from 1998. Would you beleive it actually came out in the developing? I'm surprised. There were also pics of my first wedding dress on that roll. I MIGHT post one, just to show off the dress, if I can get past the trauma I feel seing any picture related to the evil creep of cannelton. But for now, here is one of me in 1998... what a young thing I was.

This one is kinda faded out, making my eyes pale and scary, but my hair was a neat color then. I had tried to dye it brown but it didn't take very well so it was sort of caramelish, but not much darker than my natural color.

This pic turned out blurry (the setting must have gotten switched accidentally on my camera), but it is of Tori, Stephen, and I about to go 4-wheeling. Of course, Tori doesn't get to drive it herself (she's only 11) but Dad was driving her and he is taking the pic, here.

Oh what a night

The migraine was horrible and unstoppable, so I took herbal sleep stuff in hopes of just knocking myself out around 10pm last night. I woke up several times anyway, but by 3am it was absolutely unbearable.
Went to the emergency room. I HATE emergency rooms. The last time I went to the ER was for internal bleeding and I didn't cry telling them about the pain that time (which is probably why they underestimated the pain and sent me home without x-rays -I came back a few days later feverish from the blood pooling in my guts).
Last night, however, I was crying and begging them to make it stop. I didn't care if "making it stop" meant shooting me in the head, at that point, it just had to stop.
Anyway... they gave me a shot of imitrex. Whoever invented imitrex is my hero and I love him/her/them dearly. It helped a lot and worked really fast. I also took Phenergan for the nasea. I'm still groggy from the phenergan, but it really works.

A note on what a clutz I am... give me a huge clear path to walk, but set a chainsaw on the ground neatly to one side, and sure enough... I'll run through and trip on the chainsaw. What an idiot. I cut my toenail open on dad's chainsaw yesterday and bled like crazy for a bit, but it slowed down in no time. Doesn't hurt at all, really. I just think it's funny I managed to hit the chainsaw in all that open space, but then... I was really lightheaded already... and that's a long story I wont go into. Guess I'll have to lay off the open-toe shoes a while, unless I start wearing dark red nail-polish to blend in with the bloody broken nail.

Anyway... so, great big thanks to the imitrex people. thank you thank you. Most people don't have any idea how much those little brain-siezures hurt. And so that way my night/weekend. Hope everyone else had fun. I got to spend some time with family, and that was great. :)

These two pics were taken through a screen, but this is me, shotgunning a beer. I usually prefer stout, and like to slowly enjoy it, not chug it, but thought I should try it once. Stephen's friend Shireman showed me how. I had lots of fun with Stephen and his friends that day.

Here's something you aren't likely to ever see... this is me, shotgunning a beer for the first (and only) time. Poke hole, cover with mouth, pop top and suck beer while squishing can with hand. Not hard, except that I'm really not accustomed to lighter beers (icky) and I normally never drink ice-cold beverages.

Stephen and I took another snack break. This time he was munching on carrots. He's a terrific canoe partner. He's laid back enough to make it easy to have fun, but at the same time he doesn't feel the need to park for hours on every sandbar (which I admit to lacking the patience for, sometimes).

Just a couple weeks ago I went canoeing AGAIN (I'm so lucky!), this time with my boyfriend, Stephen, and some friends of his. (see friends above).

Sharing a canoe with me on the first trip was Danny (right) but we ended up joining the two canoes together, forming THE DREADNAUGHT OF CHAOS! (that's Kyle again at left)

We took the half day (7 mile) trip on Blue River and it was a beautiful (though hot) day. Here's a little tipped tree for your viewing pleasure.

I went canoeing (about a month ago, I guess?) with some great, fun guys. Here you can see Kyle (left) and Brian (right) in their canoe. Their canoe was not as fun as ours, though, the "CANOE OF CHAOS chaos aos os os......!"(dramtic echo effect)

Piano Man by Justin Bua

Stephen

Angel out of hell’s kitchen,
my sweet gift, found unsearched.
I expected to find no sun, no warmth
in such grey-washed corners of this earth.

I ran from love, from this, from you,
afraid more darkness I would see.
Eyes closed, I stumbled through dim alleys
but somehow my light found me.

Your sleeping face glows ‘neath morning’s touch
and while my pestering you elicits a smile,
I think, through all my ill-fated quests and flights,
I must have sought you all the while.

Oh, poo!

You never fully realize the depth and intricacy of your shoe tread until you step in dog poo.

No, that isn't symbolic. I just can't beleive how complex and deep the crevaces run in these sketchers now that I'm cleaning crap out of them. ick

The Wait

Waiting here, without you still,
caught in a merciless ‘until’,
tangled between the now and then
when you’ll be drawn to me again,
when your breath will stir and light
this stale still air and vacant night.
I haunt this house a listless wraith,
cling to a threadbare strand of faith
that I’ll be the habit you crave most
and thus made a woman, not a ghost.
No dimmer deferral could there be
than the wait until you thirst for me.

The photo is neither by nor of me, just something found through google image.

But now I really need to run... it's late. (pic of Tori running into the woods, another repeat pic)

Some fun pics in review: top of Shannon's car; me not learning bass; Shannon's car; studio; "mean mug"; stazi says "picture me like this"; Brandi/Bridgette sleep in France; Tori the tree climber; real lizard meets toy godzilla; frustrated artist; tipsy me; us on bridge; me in 98; waterfall; columns in Italy; me b4 the APC concert.

rummaging through pics I found this again. Me and Brandi. If she gained some weight and frazzled her hair, she could be Yolena and I could be Channon. I'm guessing she wont want to gain weight to support my comic-book fanaticism, though.

I just love this man's style. Darick Robertson strikes again and brings us this intimate verisimilar image of Nightcrawler. Not so long ago, I would not have expected to find artists I so respect within the genre of comic books, but there are veins of rich talent running here and there through the comic world. I also love the coloring on this one and will have to find out who did it.

Distant

Dreams entangled with a distant land,
Loving too much the shores and skies,
That I had never known first hand
but by a vision that needs no eyes.

Witnessed the mark on men it makes
Imbibed the beauty of its art
I embraced its books but knew its face
by what it wrote upon on my heart.

Distant across hour and sea,
a foreign visage mirrored to mine.
You are no stranger, still, to me.
We’re tightly linked outside of time.

A note to the simpletons

For those of you who like to over-simplify in order to avoid thought:
No, my linking to the “left-wing” site in my prior post does not mean I’m “left-wing” or that I endorse the site. It means it is an interesting reference. I know of no political site on the internet that I can endorse 100% because, as far as I know, there is no such thing as an objective one. Even if there is, they are limited by information. We can postulate a hundred ways Kennedy died, debate whether or not the government had foreknowledge about Pearl Harbor and failed to act, the full story of 9/11, etc… How can I know? I wasn’t there. I will say this, though… if you think that the government wouldn’t let a bunch of people die in order to win support for a war, you are fooling yourselves. If you ASSUME that means they DID allow people to die just to win support for a war, you foolishly assume too much.

Some people want to believe our government is some altruistic force and never question its actions. Those people are gullible schmucks who fail to take responsibility for the actions of those whom they voted into power. Conversely, some will grasp at every conspiracy-theory straw they can imagine in order to have excuses to wail and moan. These people are whining brats.

I realize that many people who hit this site will not be able to evaluate statements for what they really say, but would rather attempt to sort them under popular generalized schools of thought. If that is you, and nothing I say can get you to turn on your brain, you may as well pass on by because I will only confuse you. You will not get my previous post, commending the writing skill and passion of Hunter S. Thompson, and will think I am calling him a role-model and encouraging his loud-mouth drug-addled behavior too (which I do not). The fact is, there are no gods among men. There is no model citizen you can aspire to copy. There is a community of minds who each have something to offer. Only by appreciating the best each has to offer, can you create an image worth aspiring too. Only by finding many of us sharing our strengths and respecting each other’s research and opinions will we learn anything. Learn what you can from whomever you meet, but accept no man’s word as gospel. Ask questions. Dig. Research. Inquire. THINK.

Hunter S. Thompson

New history is born each year, month, day... the survivors write the record. The smart ones will always question it.

It seems almost too appropriate, now, to think that I learned of Hunter S. Thompson by first reading books with a fictional character inspired by Hunter S. Thompson. That may be a backwards way to stumble upon a talented writer, but with the events of this year I can’t help but see the fictional tale becoming more and more relevant.

Surely, only in a future setting like Transmetropolitan, only in a fictional graphic novel, could a loud-mouth reporter with a passion for truth be hunted for printing his opinion. Surely not in America, the land of “freedom of the press” (although too much freedom in some people’s opinion) could a reporter’s life be stolen, and his death purchased, by the government sworn to protect him.

Perhaps Hunter S. Thompson did kill himself, although he reportedly did not appear to be depressed and had made statements to the effect that he was in fear of his life because of evidence he said he had found (and intended to print) about 9/11. Who knows. Of course, a certain person in power has "proven himself to be particularly thin-skinned, even going so far as to use state police and expensive lawyers to silence critics", by some accounts. http://www.realchange.org/bushjr.htm#thinskin But, that doesn’t really prove anything. I don’t know the answer, obviously, but the question is still an important one.

I do know this much, a talented wordsmith is gone and his voice will be missed. I can only hope that, with his departure, a new army of sharp minds will take up the job of digging for truths and making them known, asking tough questions and sharing their opinions, even the loud and perhaps obnoxious ones. Most of all, I hope that reporters who shove thought down the throats of resistant self-deluded masses will become obsolete because the people themselves will have stopped burying their heads in the sand, and started using their noggins.
_____________________________________
Note: I was going to post a link in the phrase “too much freedom” to a message outlining why the president said “There ought to be limits to freedom. We're aware of this site, and this guy is just a garbage man, that's all he is.", but the site to which he was referring has, for some reason, ceased to operate. It survived the first two attacks by Bush’s lawyers, but has since evaporated into the web. Hurm….

Truth

Ignorance abounds among the masses, by choice.
People cower from thought, discussion, and observation.
How can they learn to add up the clues around them?
After calculating against eachother,
thinking only for one,
no one accountable for error;
their capacity to put two and two together
is so far gone
they think “truth” a four letter word.

A quote for you:

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.”-Aldous Leonard Huxley
____________________

Quick to hate. Quick to judge. Slow to think. Slow to learn.
The human race saddens me so.

Late Night Tea

Plans well spread in proud display,
or merely subtle hopes of love,
all taste bitter when disregarded
by the one such hopes are of.
Lipstick and silks can lift one's spirits
when such details are noticed and known,
but few things will drag a soul so low
as late night tea alone.

(No, I did not paint this, though seeing this piece always makes me want to paint. I just can’t afford oils and brushes right now)
Painting: Late Night Tea by Pino

New Family Member?

Stephen (whom supposedly does not much care for cats) has taken in a stray. Weber, as he calls her, is seen here playing with a moth on the front porch. She just showed up this week. I have already given her flea treatment, wormer treatment (she looked horribly skinny), and food. She can't come inside, though, or my cat would kill her. I wanted to name her Ferrel, but I suppose Weber is cute, since she hangs around the grill.
I want to be extra extra sure she doesn't belong to someone before we get her fixed, but I don't want her bringing more homeless cats into the world to starve either. If she has owners, they need a solid flogging. You can't tell from this pic, but she is so skinny she looks like someone ran over her belly.

Just a casual rambling thought, kinda lame

That stray cat is making figure eights around your ankles.
Local boys are revving diesel clouds into the air
That front porch is the cozy rut we’ve both been needing
I even grilled our Sunday meatloaf out there.
Maybe buying that refurbished stove will drive us both inside
But I’m thinking this tradition will stick
We may gut this house and rebuild every wall
But this box-seat observatory made it our pick.
Miller high life cans sit single-file on the low wall.
Hours pile up in the ashtrays in a slow burning glow.
We’ve both seen enough houses to seem all the same,
But when you’ve found a home, you know.

Too much drama

I actually had to say this (below) to an adult. Shouldn't it go without saying? He was warning me, apparently, that he'd no longer defend me to his clique (who all think I'm most uncool, apparently) because I stood up to him when he verbally shat upon an innocent bystander whom was also 'not cool' in their book. Are we in high-school?

Anyway, I'm not here to gripe about him. I wont even mention his name. But, in typing out my little proclimation of who I am and what I refuse to change, I decided it needed to be a public proclimation. Like it or lump it, some rules for myself:

"Hate me all you want. I wont ask for your defense. The rest can also hate me if it pleases them.
HOWEVER, This has been the same and will continue to be the same:I will still treat people with respect. I will still do my best to grow as a person and never make excuses to wrong others. I will still speak up when I see others wronged. This will not change.
Hate me or not, I refuse to be less of a person in order to please you or anyone else. Growth, I will always strive for, but not de-evolution.

I wont pick on the nerds to sit with the jocks. I wont join you in your mistreatment of others, either. I'm no angel and there are many things about me that need improvement, but if you were a real man you'd respect me for my stance on this. "

It just amazes me I even had to spell that out for an adult.

Congratulate me, I am a momma

of one completely featherless baby bird. (uh, anybody want it? Free to good home!)

Oh dear, now what have I gotten myself into? I walked to the car, and there it was, lying on the pavement on it's back. It was helpless, begging for it's mamma. I immediately went inside and kept an eye on it from the window while calling a 24-hour emergency vet. (I don't know if mamma bird could or would save baby, but I knew she wouldn't with some giant human lurking nearby. The vet said baby didn't stand a chance outside, but was not that hard to raise (depending on age, health, injuries, etc...).

Baby bird is now in a plastic box (coverless, duh) with a heating pad on low in the bottom, and a towel on top of that so I don't cook baby. Cooking baby would likely be counterproductive to my life-saving efforts.

- Edit -
Cosa (the baby bird) died. Of all my life-saving efforts, this was my biggest failure. She only lasted a day. She sucked food into her lungs while feeding. Poor Cosa. :(

Of all the things to say...

...to some guys butting heads like mad, this line takes the cake:

"Ok, guys just because you HAVE one, doesn't mean you have to BE one!"

I may be laughing for months on that one!
ta he he he he
She's so funny!

A Senryu

We diminish with
enemies ousted, but grow
with company kept.

____________________
Any fool can start a battle
and someone must always win,
but a wiser man knows not to make
the war ever begin.

One more Haiku

The mimosa sways
while time sleeps and I laze here,
embracing gold skies.


In case you did not know, the Mimosa (much like the Dahlia and Iris) represents summer and is the required Kigo (season word) in this haiku.

Another Haiku

The iris awaits
the coming chrysanthemum-
I cling to the sun.

The season is ripe from basking in many sunny days, but I feel as if I have just met the summer. Well fed from warm june and july sun, the season is nearly ready to retire, but I leap to it, clinging to what remnants of it I have not yet squandered.

Haiku

Summer clings to me,
desperate and impassioned,
ripe with august heat.

I bought a new swimsuit off of Ebay ('cause I couldn't fit into my old one with a shoe horn and a bucket of crisco). Isn't it cute?

To love the road you journey on

Stretched smooth upon the rolling earth,
paved promises taper gently into the horizon.
Grey ribbons drape softly over scene and scape,
inviting us to seek their curves, their leaps, their flights;
tempting us to flee into the night.

Sweetly calling, from where land kisses sky,
the road beckons and, together, we are drawn to ride.
Tomorrow’s beginning seems today like the brink.
From pools of tomorrows we draw, we drink.

The tires will hum, the engine drone.
The wind will rush, as we reach from home
to touch the seas of sights beyond,
to love the road we journey on.

The promise within no guarantees,
the shelter of simply roaming free…
Companions revel in the travelers bond
as we embrace the road we journey on.

(written by a true fan of the road-trip)

Best Wishes, Travelers!

A farewell to friends on their merry journey, as several carloads head for Chicago.

I dedicate to all of you a Song of the Open Road (as I do love my Walt Whitman)

Here is a portion of the poem for you:

"Allons! whoever you are, come travel with me!
Traveling with me, you find what never tires.

The earth never tires;
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first—Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first;
Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine things, well envelop’d;
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here!
However sweet these laid-up stores—however convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain here;
However shelter’d this port, and however calm these waters, we must not anchor here;
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, we are permitted to receive it but a little while."

Happy journeys, everyone. :)

Stephen made me lunch again. He found one brand of Polish Sausage at Krogers that has nothing I'm allergic to in it. He is a master of the grill. He also had fresh blackberries for me.

Sheba says to camera-man. Shooo, human. You can't see me, here. I'm in the jungle.

Selfish

Jealousy is a foul thing. I should be so thrilled for my friends who are going to Wizard World Chicago (aka NerdFest2005), and really I am. I'm sincerely excited for them. For one group, it's a special ritual (that I hope they keep going even after they're married with rugrats). For Ray, well he will be showing off his truly excellent drawing sample-pages (I'll be anxiously awaiting word on how that goes). Of course, Ray and Jeremy are going together (the dynamic duo), and with them their wonderful wives.
I'm so very happy for all of them. Happy happy happy. I'm not just saying that. I really am happy for them, no matter how crappy I feel about being stuck behind.
I just wish I could shake the selfish, jealous, wimpy need to be going myself. I kept telling myself I'd accepted I wasn't going, but then I kept checking the webpage to see what names had been added, eyeballing the cost of a ticket for just one day...
Well, soon it will be over and that jumpy me inside my head will quit trying to figure out a way to get me there this year, and be forced to just plan for next year.
Shame on me for thinking about myself and how badly I want to go.

But, on a happier note, I really am excited for all the guys. I'm sure they'll have a blast. :)

Bad mood depository?

Reading this blog must be depressing. I guess I dump all my negativity off here so I don't have to lug it around with me.

When I'm depressed, missing certain people, etc... it gets piled up here, but my smiling and sillyness I carry with me. I guess that's better than the other way around, except for those of you who read it.

strong enough to keep on going long enough to miss what's gone.

I’m as weak as I hate to be,
as strong as I must;
quick to forgive,
but short on trust.
My loud-mouth fingers
betray my silent self.
I’ve a social-grace shortage,
and a perceptive wealth.
Love and understanding
I won’t dare demand,
but need, most of all,
to be seen as I am.

Take me or leave me
(most try to do both)
but take me as I am,
a project of growth;
an awkward iron giant,
falling short, meaning good…
unstoppable in 'battle',
a ‘kiddo’ in the wood.

I have the strength to dare
to be a little soft,
just not enough to drift
when the battle is lost.

Weak enough to break,
always healing before long;
strong enough to keep on going
long enough to miss what's gone.

Better a Fool than a Fatalist?

Sheer luminescent sheets of warm promise…
My wishes take the thinnest pyrite flake
and construct a dream upon it.
My imagination builds an elaborate architecture
of hope, trust, friendship, and future shared memories
on the ample budget of glimmering stratums
deposited in the rich mines of my foolish fancy.
I am a seeker of friendship, trust, connection,
struck to the core with the fever
as I pan rivers of mankind for reason to believe.
I cradle words from strangers in my palms,
like pyrite to the gold of true bonds,
and paint upon them the voices I most miss.
I pretend that if I love these shining stones enough
they will prove true and not illusion.

The Road to Happiness

Howard built up the company I work for from one folding table and a rented computer to a chain of offices covering Indiana and Kentucky, some of Illinois, and taking over louisville as the best in the business. At that impressive peak, First American (a fortune 300 company) bought him out and kept him on to manage 7 offices in the state of Kentucky, plus the one I work at in Indiana.

Now Howard and his wife, Linda, trade in their jobs, home, spa-visits, and all for a simple life on the road together. Read this article interviewing the wise and daring couple. The next time you pick up a Happy Camper shot glass in some random souveneir shop, the person behind the register could be this successful entrepenour-turned-gypsy. :)

I'm so impressed with them, and wish them all the best. :)