For the love of Hemingway.....

 All men fear death. It's a natural fear that consumes us all. We fear death because we feel that we haven't loved well 

enough or loved at all, which ultimately are one and the same. However, when you make love with a truly great 

woman, one that deserves the utmost respect in this world and one that makes you feel truly powerful, that fear of 

death completely disappears. Because when you are sharing your body and heart with a great woman the world 

fades away. You two are the only ones in the entire universe. You conquer what most lesser men have never 

conquered before, you have conquered a great woman's heart, the most vulnerable thing she can offer to 

another. Death no longer lingers in the mind. Fear no longer clouds your heart. Only passion for living, and for 

loving, become your sole reality. This is no easy task for it takes insurmountable courage. But remember this, for 

that moment when you are making love with a woman of true greatness you will feel immortal.

Love... A Different Type of Substance Abuse.

Are you tired? Strung or cracked out 99% of the time because of your addiction to the idiot you call yourself being “in-love” with? If so… This is not the place to come for help. I must warn you; due to the contents of my current inspirations, I have no good advice to offer. This is simply a result of one cup observation, 2 cups experience, and a glass of plum wine (to add an extra kick).  What initially set this very emotional state I’m in was an assignment I was given at work. I was to monitor a patient who was suffering from severe alcohol withdrawals. As I watched this young man (who is in his mid 30s) I couldn’t help but to feel an overwhelming amount of compassion for him. I thought to myself… He’s so young, and the abuse has literally robbed him of his physical youth. I then asked myself… Why do WE all do this to ourselves? We torture ourselves with the various types of abuse and in most cases it almost takes something fatal to happen before we get up and do something about it. I applied that mans withdrawals to that of my own. I have suffered spousal abuse. No I wasn’t beat upside the head… No one Ike’d me. I’m talking about verbal, emotional, mental abuse. Abuse that I continued to take because I was “in-love.”  In most cases, they had no real respect for me. They didn’t adore me as those romantic novels would profess. They were liars, cheats, cheap, lazy, nasty, stank, filth cakes. sorry… Point is >they just weren’t good people< Stupid thing is, I dealt with it. What can I say. I was addicted to loving. Addicted to turning worlds around. Addicted to making these little boys dreams come true. I was addicted. When this addiction was removed i would suffer in some sense the same symptoms... Shakiness, anxiety, depression, fatigue, difficulty thinking clearly, and bad dreams just to name a few... Not being able to bare.. i would go get a replacement which would be a somewhat diluted verson of the crap I had been accustomed to...  So knock knock… who’s there? Abuse. Abuse who? I’ll keep on abusing you if you let me!!! Great come on in!!! I won’t care if you don’t!!! =D Ok… you get the point. I have personally gained 40 pounds, trust issues, and debt because of this common addiction. Funny thing is… We women are told at Genesis 3:16 “your craving will be for your husband and he will dominate you. Sad thing is… 90% of the time, these dudes aren’t even our husbands. Let me repeat that; THEY ARE NOT OUR HUSBANDS!!!! Get it yet? No they haven’t put a ring on it and they tell you they love it. We eat those words up (notice I said words) and we carry on with the cooking, cleaning, paying bills and dealing with child support cases only to have them walk away from us in search of the chick with the green eyes and silky hair whose idea of companionship is with his wallet. Still, we continue to fight and fuss about a man who is absolutely incapable of loving us. The definition of abuse is as follows: “To use wrongly or improperly; misuse.” See that? Our love is being used improperly. Get it now? We are being misused? There yet? You should be. I should be. I am still guilty of “using”… being used. I know that all of my home cooked meals, encouragement, love, and intellect is all a big pot of whocares, but overall, I love to feed the homeless. I am tired. Sick and tired but my actions insist otherwise. I find myself constantly pursuing cavemen who beat you over the head several times a day and expect you to have dinner ready when he’s done. Whereas a real man, with his unique tribal characteristics, would find me, tie me with rope and ship me to meet his parents the day we meet.  Well, maybe not the day but you know what I mean. He would adore me, take care of the family and hunt antelope when I desire to test my culinary skills. And even after all this I have said… even though I understand how I SHOULD be treated. I go the other way. So again… please, someone, tell me…. Why do we do this to ourselves?

Bitter Sweet

In your embrace...

In your embrace... from Wildek on Vimeo.

Round of Applause.

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;

Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion;

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

-William Shakespeare

Where's Your Dirty Mind??

Wh3r3'5 uR D1r7y M1nD¿ from Devin O'Brien on Vimeo.

Return to Sender.

I am getting older and frankly my dears….. > I just want to be a woman. < Freedom to express my emotions when ever the desire presents itself. Freedom to nurture all whom will have me. Freedom to paint my personality on canvases for all to explore its sometimes hidden messages. Most of all… The freedom to share every piece of love dwelling in crevasses of my heart that only surgery could expose. Now… all I need is the King to give it to right? <Sounds so simple. Who doesn’t want a young woman who is capable of running a household, hard-working/economically efficient, a cook, and a goof when necessary? Please note: I’m only listing these things because I love myself and as cliché as it may sound… I know my worth.   I have had my share of relationships in which I received parts of the qualities I desire in a man but for the most; these "qualities" happen to be non-existent swindles and were only good for a few weeks or in such instances of convenience including: 1. the plot to “take me down” or 2. the pursuit of personal  loans and homecooked meals… hey… it’s a recession right? 

So…….. Here I am filled with warm yummy greatness ready to unload a type of paradise onto an actual man and yet, he is no where to be found. Funny because the man I believe I deserve is chasing after a skank girl who has never deserved him. Or maybe… Just maybe, he’s single and madness-free; and maybe even at this very moment, he is out for a long drive. Meditating. Humbly praying for guidance, knowledge, and patience. Then I’m sure he’s listening to “stolen moments”… perhaps the smiths or even boards of canada because the only voice he wants to listen for is mine. He knows I exist and is anxious about dissecting this crazy little world of mine. yep... More than anything he wants to know me inside out. and when he meets me, he vows to take the time to get to know me. studying me like a cure for cancer, I am a major part of what he lives for. He calls back; you know... just because; for no reason; every reason and all day. We speak in substance or at times as if we were 9 and 10 again…  he always misses me. He; spoiled rotten by me… Saturday morning cartoons, bad breath and all… he loves it when I whisper in his ear using my softest sexiest voice “let me make you some breakfast baby.”  He; well taken care of continues to adore me. When we fight, I am not left feeling unloved, unwanted. He will master the art of making up with me and forgives me when I’m out of line… We float together under starry skies, laugh at each other during karaoke, and he will be the one to hold my hair if I had just a lilllllllll too much wine ;) He will admire the fact that I will watch every game with him even though I have not one clue as to what’s going on lol… and he will teach me. He will be a great teacher. most importantly.... In his house.... our house.... we will be servants of God and he will not have it any other way. We will grow old in a love forever young.

One Day.

The Butterfly...

***

The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.

Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing

against a white stone. . . .     Such, such a yellow....   Is carried lightly ‘way up high.

It went away I’m sure because it wished to

Radiant butterfly shot taken in the widow of my apartment 

kiss the world good-bye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,

Penned up inside this ghetto.

But I have found what I love here.

The dandelions call to me

And the white chestnut branches in the court.

Only I never saw another butterfly.

That butterfly was the last one.

Butterflies don’t live in here,

in the ghetto.

- by Pavel Friedman

Pavel Friedmann was born in Prague on January 7, 1921. He was deported to Terezin on April 26, 1942 and later to Auschwitz, where he died on September 29, 1944.

Five Senses Friday.....

Abby Try Again does a weekly Five Senses Friday where she sits down and reflects on the last few days. She’s always encouraging other bloggers to do the same so I thought I would join in on the experience ^-^ 

Seeing:

Seeing   the unity between the cultures as we all share in the same hustle… Recycling.

Feeling:

Feeling inspired as I drive through the familiar streets in search of the something unknown. 

Touching:

Touching the knife to create pieces of bell pepper for my supper... The sharp blade slices more than just the pepper... ouch  -_-

Tasting:

Tasting the “hard work” and “foot” of a meal gone right…lol I made penne pasta tonight…

Smelling:

Smelling the lit incense gave me the incentive to write…. The chocolate chip cookies are done… Goodnight. 

No Thanks.

Forget about the "black death" and replace it with a "black friday." 

Just a coincidence i bet.... 


Step one... 

An allied Puritan and Mohegan force under English Captain John Mason attacks a Pequot village in Connecticut, burning or massacring Indian women, men, and children. This is known as the "Pequot Massacre." 

The Pequot Massacre led to the “Thanksgiving” festivities. The day after the massacre, the aforementioned Governor Massachusetts Bay Colony declared: “A day of Thanksgiving, thanking God that they had eliminated Indian men, women and children.” It was signed into law that, “This day forth shall be a day of celebration and thanksgiving for subduing the Pequots.”

(Those who are indigenous to this land we call “The United States of America” have been long misrepresented and pushed out of American history textbooks in favor of glorifying those who now rule this nation and represent the dominant culture. What kind of democracy are we when education institutions and teachers refuse to mention the fact that 10 to 30 million Natives were killed at the hands of European invasion and colonialism? What is the point of having a “free market of ideas” when selective and biased history is being taught to our children?)

(~Broken Mystic~WP)

Step Two... "Finish Them Off."


As stated by James W. Loewen, author of “Lies My Teacher Told Me,” many college students are unaware of the horrific plague that devastated and significantly reduced the population of Natives after Columbus’ arrival in the “new world.” Most diseases came from animals that were domesticated by Europeans. Cowpox from cows led to smallpox, which was later “spread through gifts of blankets by infected Europeans.” Of the twelve high school textbooks Professor Loewen studied and analyzed, only three offer some explanation that the plague was a factor of European colonization. The nine remaining textbooks mention almost nothing, and two of them omit the subject altogether. He writes: “Each of the other seven furnishes only a fragment of a paragraph that does not even make it into the index, let alone into students’ minds.” (~Broken Mystic~WP)

Why is it important to mention the plague? It reinforced European ethnocentricism which hardly produced a “friendly” relationship between the Natives and Europeans. To most of the Pilgrims and Europeans, the Natives were heathens, savages, treacherous, and Satanic. Upon seeing thousands of dead Natives, the Governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony, John Winthrop, called the plague “miraculous.”
(~Broken Mystic~WP)

Enjoy your turkey! =D

“Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past.” George Orwell, the author of “1984”

Lupe Fiasco Calls MTV “Illuminati’s Favorite Network”

Oh snap…MTV (illuminati’s favorite network) back on the attack…why can’t y’all just chill out? Salacious banality @ the speed of light? I think I’ve been very good natured with you. I personally know several employees of your company. You guys know me as well. I’m confused. Where is the true music journalism??? where is Suchin?!! What happened? Where are the honest critiques of cultural expression? For it’s not about being RIGHT it’s about being HOT. Fame over self-awareness and virtue. Hedonism over self respect. Celebrity over cerebral. A destroying force in our culture and society just like rest of the useless vapid spectacles that pour out of our tv’s and radios.

What are we supposed to be learning from you? What is your point? Do you have a point beyond corporate sponsored distraction? Your a materialistic shell of your former self that can only identify with celebrity pageantry and instant gratification. Corporate garbage pushing plastic lifestyles and wasteful, destructive behavior into the brains of the youth of the world. So when your relevance thins in2 a whisper & the stock price collapses and you have 2 come 2 grips with the mess you made. I’ll be here 4 ya. We’ll be here. With hands full of baby powder 2 smack some sense back into your body & a warm shoulder to cry on. We want the REAL MTV back!

Apparently displeased with this article from MTV, Lupe Fiasco spoke his mind on Twitter about the network on October 21st. 

Lyrics of the day...

"Walk Alone"

(feat. Truck North, P., Dice Raw)

[Truck North]

Trapped, no shield, no sword

The unbeaten path got my soul so sore

Allured by the lust, something money can't cure

The Devil want me as is, but God he want more

Eyes closed, eyes open, great another day, here we go

like a nigga woke up late in The Truman Show

Living life without a care, mean pokerface

But I'm forced to play solitaire till I get up out of here

Move like a wanted man with a bounty on his head

Work alone, sleep alone, eat alone, daily bread

Counting till my fingers red, how you gon' judge a man

walking in the shoes of a man with a broken leg?

Flame on the trail headed for the powder keg

Last place in the race I ain't never led

Like I ain't never bled, time to get up out of bed

Serving in the army of one, it's on again

Walk alone, I walk alone, you know I walk it alone

I always been on my own, ever since the day I born

So I don't mind walking alone

[P.]

I'm in a chess match, I'm in a death trap

I'm tryna find out where the eggs in the nest at

I'm one blood when the sky turns jet black

No love in the world can correct that

I'm in a slow lane, I'm on my Cobain

I'm in the new spot tryna run a old game

I got a new chick, put out my old flame

No peace, no sleep, no love for a young beast

You can put me in a cage

You can put me in the jungle where the lion get blazed

There ain't no hell like the hell I raise

I'd die in the bed I made 'fore I lay with a love I loathe

I'm a snake in the garden of bones

I'm a loner in a world of clones

I'm the piece that don't belong, see I roam

where the the Reaper roam till they put my name on a stone

[Black Thought]

The longest walk I'll probably ever be on

The Road to Perdition, guess I'm finna get my plea on

I pray these wings strong enough to carry me on

I promise every second felt as if it took an eon

Walking like the lost boys of Sierra Leone

The trail of tears what they got me like a Cherokee on

Between the ears something I require therapy on

for the working the bone like my name Robert Dion

I go above and beyond, the duty called, truly y'all

Even though they kind of blew me off like a booty call

Asked me if I'm just another muli or a movie star

Forced to face the +music+ like a graduate of Juilliard

Walk alone, talk alone, get my Charlie Parker on

Make my make alone, shed light upon the dark alone

Get my sparkle on, it's a mission I'm embarking on

A kamikaze in the danger zone far from home

Yo!!! Remember....

Man I miss PingMag

Another collaboration of Buytronick Vs. Stinkfish: “Stink love Q,” including a Mexican señor with sombrero in front. From Excusado’s Mexico trip.

A work in prorgress: Buytron Vs. Stinkfish - “Azcapotzalco Production” in north western Mexico City. From Excusado’s Mexico trip.

Timescapes.....

TimeScapes: Rapture from Tom Lowe @ Timescapes on Vimeo.

N.E.R.D. Nothing Album

This album has classic potential however....  I am still a "In search of" junkie (shout out to my girl kelis lol)

http://n-e-r-d.com/news/

Random Wednesdays

Went out in service today… Had a blast exposing the true origins of Christmas to a local interested one (hello bible study ^_^)\

Realized that I could have made my own breakfast sandwich and saved five bucks!

Had another interview (went great) < that’s a lie. Realized that they could possibly be looking for a drone so I went full blast with the T!!! I joked, cried and laugh with them though of course they WERE INDEED LAUGHING AT ME. -_-

On the way home I notice that homeless signs are becoming a bit too racy for me although very clever…. The sign read: “SEX!!!! ….. Now that I have your attention… I’m broke hungry and heartbroken. Give me your wallet. ????? “

Well I says….”

The career of the homeless is evolving… No longer are they asking for change but not 1, not 2, but 5 dollars!!! Another sign that that we are STILL in a recession. I may just take this type of work part-time. I mean it’s getting easier. All you have to do is explain that you have kids in the car and you ran out of gas… Or you can just go up to someone’s window with your hand out WITHOUT SAYING A WORD (people know what’s up, you need that 5 dollas)….  Hey, I’m still on unemployment people… No interviews needed??? Man… This job is mine! =D I AM THE LIZARD QUEEN!!!!! (been wanting to say that for a while… simpsons fan)

Last adventure of the day… THE SANTA MONICA LIBRARY ADVENTURES!!! Everybody loves the fart game aye?????  Well you guess it… The game was on… As I look for something to entertain me for the night, someone lets out one of those creepy long (dehydrated) atomic bombs… There was an awkward silence followed by my expression: “Alright…………………………………..” giggle, giggle, choke, fall out in tears laughing. Yep folks… I thought it was hilarious so shoot me.

Random photos of the day:

sooooooooooooooooooo... yea... im out.

Just because I love em...

Banksy is the pseudonym of a British graffiti artist, political activist and painter, whose identity is unconfirmed. His satirical street art and subversive epigrams combine irreverent dark humour with graffiti done in a distinctive stencilling technique. Such artistic works of political and social commentary have been featured on streets, walls, and bridges of cities throughout the world.

Banksy's work was born out of the Bristol underground scene which involved collaborations between artists and musicians. According to author and graphic designer Tristan Manco, Banksy "was born in 1974 and raised in Bristol, England. The son of a photocopier technician, he trained as a butcher but became involved in graffiti during the great Bristol aerosol boom of the late 1980s." Observers have noted that his style is similar to Blek le Rat, who began to work with stencils in 1981 in Paris and members of the anarcho-punk band Crass who maintained a graffiti stencil campaign on the London Tube System in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Lyrics of the day...

Common: Ghetto Heaven Part Two Lyrics

[verse 1]

Searchin for a love, throughout the ghetto

Young girls is thick, righteousness is narrow

I got my third, I want the sparrow

Want my peoples straight and rock sweet apparrel

The mother of my child, we not together

Baby it's your back, I got forever

As the weather, talks to us

Him rockin the holy spirit walks through us

The blunted eyes of the youth search for a guide

A thug is a lost man in disguise

The rise and fall, of a nation, even when the buildings tumble

I still stand tall, I walk through the valley, wit a life preserver

Feelin at times, that I might just murder

Yo but that ain't what I was sent for

I want folks to say his life it meant more

Than ? any ca, any ba ca? any broad

He found geto heaven in himself and god

[d'angelo]

Geto heaven...

Standin in some geto heaven

Geto heaven...

Standin in some geto heaven

Geto...

[verse 2]

Love, your happiness don't begin wit a man

Strong woman, why should you depend on a man

I understand you want a man that's resourceful

If he pay your bills, he feel like he bought you

Talkin to a friend, about what love is

Her man didn't love her, 'cause he didn't love his

Hugged her from afar, said what I felt

You never find a man, till you find yourself

Time helps mistakes, you can learn from

'cause one man f***ed up men you shouldn't turn from

You want a certain type of guy, gotta reach a certain point too

At the destination, a king will annoint you

Goin through the storm, many bodies stay warm

That relationship died, for you to be born, you worth more

Than anything you could cop in a store

For you to grow he had to go so what you stoppin him for

Not even I could ignore bein alone it's hard

Find heaven in yourself and god

[d'angelo]

I know I love my baby

My baby loves me

I'm layin in some heaven, need a little company, yeah

It's twenty four seven, time to get some geto heaven

Time to get some geto heaven

Geto heaven, geto heaven

It's time to get some geto heaven

Time to get some geto heaven, ohhhhhh...

[verse 3]

This music is so much bigger than me

As far as happy, yo it's like a trigger to me

Dealin with crab rappers, and groupie broads

Record execs, at times it do be hard

But to choose words, and be heard across waters

Doin something you like to support daughters

Keepin your guys who collectin court orders

Conveyin messages that the ancestors brought us

Thought of things to say to become the end thing for the day

Somehow, that didn't seem the way for me to make it

Music is a gift that is sacred

I hope you didn't use it hopin you could grow to it

Whether servin or a surgeon, you gon go through it

Can't imagine goin through it, without soul music

It's like donnie hath' helped me see lonnie's path

On my behalf, let's take whole steps to imhotep

And show depth, as we make people nod

Find heaven in this music and god

Find heaven in this music and god

Find heaven in this music and god

[d'angelo]

Geto heaven

Geto heaven

Geto heaven, yeah, yeah

Geto heaven, my baby

Geto heaven, my baby

Geto heaven, my baby

Geto heaven, my baby

Geto heaven, my baby..