Art's art.

Linkin park doesn’t go that deep, but tool and some other bands do

One bettered and buttered and battered:

youtu.be/FJOX5tCd1qs

& a 3’rd.

youtu.be/R12H8QWnwvE

All got soul and I like that in music.

Meh.

Give me something really in 3’s.

youtu.be/GjQZZKf4kMs

youtu.be/vxrf4ZzzrA8

Mowk’s artmark

[attachment=0]Bronze hand casts a bronze shadow .gif[/attachment]

That my left hand. Finger prints cast in bronze. All the art I had in that show mysteriously left the state with the owner of the studio the showing was in. I prefer now to create art that is not so easily stolen. My life. To this day I have no idea where it ended up. For all I know it’s resting in some landfill.

Shit I’ve got all kinds of crap like that laying around. But that was my last show as an artist.

A self portrait from a while ago. mixed media on paper
[attachment=0]Self.jpg[/attachment]

It does not fit my imaginative picture of You.
I imagined You as older and less ‘real’. Whatever that means, and one picture really is worth a thousand words.My imagination is mostly and primarily virtual, and filtered in brazen yet washed pastels with a simotenios focus on contrast.

Been in the old country, infatuated in Kerouac, especially ‘Lonely Traveler’ and ‘Sartoru in Paris’ , but recently came upon an unread collection I would like to share , will do in a New York minute.

Paint it in the color of a Dr.Sax.

But later.

About the hand, had one done would like to send it, but how to print out a photograph within these realms? Given by an ex will find a way.

I am older now. Imagine shorter hair; turned grey, a much trimmer beard, also quite grey, wrinkles and a Mister Rogers style of attire, and yes, less real. Had to come to a lot of compromises since then. That was back in the days when I still painted. The year was back in 95.

Went commercial, Advertising, and ended up doing bullshit stuff like this. Regular pay checks, and sold my soul to the man.

[attachment=0]Baby.gif[/attachment]

The only thing I’ve painted since then is rooms in my house. Computers took over and I’ve fallen so out of practice. It’s been quite a while ago that I considered myself an artist.

I didn’t quit. That’s just the story I told myself all these years.
I missed a dead line for a big client, artists block, drove me nuts, and never got hired for another job again. My bounce back job was a greens keeper at a golf course. And my sister wants to rehabilitate me.

back to the present and Art x Art.

youtu.be/WYCk6Zq6wds

Sort of same story with a twist. It is different, cause the great reversal is taking place not on the actual, but the potential(energy) front, has been eclipsed by an order,
of,
at least 10 to 100,
Stakes higher, much,
Daunting, but can handle the realism
Without going dada,
But its close very close.
Old grandad indulgence and a dream
Well an auditory one, by Mr.Polanyi self
Assuring,(old grandad is a survival , by certain measure);
That there is a large measure of simulation, in this.(stimulation)
Went by a Tmobile store to startup new phone
Asked guy about upgrades and he says my phone is already old, although it is merely one year old.

So asked him whether at present trend in 25 years how advanced intelligence can evolve into ,
He says maybe it will be in the mind, sort of virtual phone, laughed and says that certainly he may be around, but I don’t know it would be the case with me.

Reversal, potential & polarity

Why?

Because it is an effort to reboot one dimensionality.

Trump needs more funny bone resilience.

Or less, lot less. Otherwise, instead of Emmy he may get trumped.

Reagan was better, but he was typed for serious stuff like GE spokesperson, potential difference carried other overtones.

Progress is our most important product.

Three different writings. Have a lot more as well.

There’s some that came before me,
and some that’ll come after me,
That’s just how it’s gonna be
In this transcendental reality
In this world of distraction
I’m a man made of action
When they try to put me out
I promise I’ll be back again

When you’re feeling lost and alone,
Look to the East, it’ll guide you home,
Earth and the wind will hum it’s tune
Listen close and make some room,
In your heart, you will hear it soon,
Many eyes have gazed upon it,
And Many more will see it too,
It won’t be long before the dawn hits
Great ball of life, we call the son
It will never be all said and done

Locked in a box,
Where no one talks
With no ticks and no tocks
Endless dark, endless chaos
And “little light”, so it mocked
There’s sound, from the seance
It lies here, there and everywhere
Another whisper lost in a nightmare
Last breaths drift, left bare there-in
the wind of endless despaired men

Beautiful words, friend.

Emotions can eat away at us.

If there’s not an avenue to process / address them directly,
sometimes it can prove useful to express them through other mediums,
such that they aren’t bottled inside.

The act of writing about them can also enable one to process the experiences.
Furthermore, to enable others to relate and potentially find value in your journey.

Though, I believe we can be benefited from support, and no one should be forced to walked alone -
even if they’re capable of doing so.

I hope you’re managing well, friend.
Keep fighting the good fight.

Hope you are well too my friend, appreciate you.

Rough draft.

Hey you, do you hear me talking?
Did you hear me when I said?
That you should keep on walking,
You can sleep in the royals bed,
But that doesn’t make you the king
So keep your riches and keep your ring,
Few have traveled down the road,
Where most have never been
Because this is the world,
where only rockstars reign
The few have paid attention,
To what most have never seen

A million stories
A million doors
First breath of babies
With cut Umbilical cords
A million lives left
A million deaths
Money make happy
So Everyone says
A million laughing
A million at best
And all comes crashing
Now all is a mess
But I told you before that,
You’re not like the rest
A million times before, yeah
And a million times more that,
You’re not like the rest
And if you really don’t believe me,
Well you can put it to the test,
There never was no average
there never was no same,
Not even when it comes to,
That warm summer rain
And there’s a million stories
And a million doors
No time for sorries, darling
No, Not anymore
Have I told you how I felt lately?
Have I told you that I loved you?
I think I said the truth, babe
A million times before
I think I said the truth, babe
A million times, oh lord
I love you, oh I love you, yeah
And if you really don’t believe me,
You can put me to the test, yeah

“I tried to talk and everything came out muffled,
Maybe she couldn’t hear me beneath the waves that were pinning me down and drowning me, maybe she didn’t know I was drowning at all until I was swept away and no longer in sight,
And when the sea raged and the moon waned
The waves gave way and then there was day
She could finally see where it is that I lay
Under the sand from the same waves
that had pulled me under yesterday”