My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I formulate infinity stored deep inside of me…

Archive for the 'Random Thought' Category

I don’t want to waste a title

February 18th, 2016 | Category: Life,Random Thought

I need my muse to return to me.

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On tattoos (and writing, and life)

February 01st, 2016 | Category: Life,Random Thought

So, I’m way behind on posting my tattoos. I’m getting them, I’m just not posting the pictures and telling the tales. It’s apathy, not toward the tattoos, but toward writing. Even worse, I’m apathetic toward me, toward the story of me. I’m a boring story, in my head at least. The goal is to write and not give a shit what people think, but that only applies if you like your own ideas, but are scared others won’t. I don’t give a shit what others think of me or my writing, that’s easy. I have that part down. The problem is, don’t like what’s in my head, so that’s that, world without end, Amen. Being that I write best about me and my experiences, the real honest to Christ, totally raw, brass tacks problem is… I don’t particularly like me, and I absolutely don’t like my experiences. Now, conventional wisdom says, if you don’t like yourself, you can’t possibly be happy in your pursuits, but I find that it’s the other way ’round.

Anyway, I only have observations just now, not solutions.

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A Dream of Bread

January 29th, 2016 | Category: Creative Flash,Random Thought

Last night, I dreamed I was a refugee from a war-torn Sarajevo of long ago. I set a lonely camp on the side of a deserted road, I hadn’t seen a single human being for what felt like years. Perhaps I was the last? It was oppressive, I was scared. All I had left to eat was a single loaf of bread. Just bread. I built a fire, stoked it high. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I’m cold-cocked by Oprah Winfrey with the butt of an AK-47. Everything went black for a moment, I ended up flat on my back. When I could finally focus my eyes, I realized Oprah was standing over me, holding my bread. She could see the hurt in my eyes, the confusion. I knew because she looked at me apologetically and said, “I didn’t want it to come to this… I LOVE bread.”

I woke up silently screaming.


Tattoo #82

October 17th, 2015 | Category: Life,Opinions,Random Thought,Tattoos
Tattoo by Kyle, Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor

Tattoo by Kyle, Doc Dog’s Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor

So, we come now to tattoo #82, a lyric from one of my favorite songs, not just by Aimee Mann, but by anyone. The song is off of Aimee Mann’s fourth studio record, Lost in Space… the song is called, It’s Not.

It’s Not is really quite a sad song, yet very beautiful. It’s about being stuck, stuck without a way out. Sometimes life just doesn’t go in the right direction, and it feels as though it never will. It’s a horrible place to be, it’s horrible to feel utterly stuck, knowing deep down that nothing can pull you out of that blackness. I’ve visited that blackness, many times, too many times, and Aimee’s lyrics capture that blackness so completely. She describes such an awful place with beautiful words. Perfect words.

Now, even though It’s Not is astonishingly sad, it still holds happy memories for me. It played many evenings while someone I love slept peacefully with her head against my shoulder. I sang it to myself with a voice no one will ever hear as I looked into her eyes under a clear night sky one cold New Year’s Eve. I could get so lost in her eyes… she really did make everything and everyone else just an afterthought.

She’s gone, yet I miss her everyday, love her everyday. It scares me to write gone, scares me that I’ll never again hear her voice, or feel her asleep next to me… her soft warm breath against my neck.

I don’t want never, I want to go home.


So many faces!

July 29th, 2015 | Category: Life,Opinions,Random Thought
Nobody ever suspects… the butterfly.

Nobody ever suspects… the butterfly.

Here comes the sun…

Here comes the sun…

No, this isn’t now The Apple Watch Blog, I’m just not done being amused by and experimenting with its myriad of faces. They’re all so stylish, yet functional. Though, I do tend to lean toward the faces that are just straight-up pretty, rather than those that show current stock prices, the current time in London, the current moon phase, and so on. I’ve always been a sensualist.

Also, I wanted to test the camera on my new iPod touch. The new touch is really spectacular, it’s what I’ve wanted from the beginning; an elegantly portable iPod that shoots 1080p video and gorgeous still pictures, oh and it runs apps, does everything internet-related, and brews a good cup of coffee. We’re talking gourmet French-roast, not Sanka.

Anyway, enough rambling.

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More daily nonsense

June 25th, 2015 | Category: Random Thought

I am THE Walrus. Just sayin’.

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Daily nonsense

June 24th, 2015 | Category: Random Thought

I had a tea-party with my cat.

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Chasing butterflies!

June 05th, 2015 | Category: Life,Opinions,Random Thought
So many faces…

So many faces…

I still prefer my flowers… I think.

Tomorrow, I test my Apple Watch with a car audio system…

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Letter to Chuck

June 03rd, 2015 | Category: Life,Opinions,Random Thought,Thoughts on Writing

Dear Chuck Palahniuk,

Could you please, please for the love of the tiny infant Christ, stop writing stories in faux broken English. It’s jus not funny, it’s boring, and annoying to read.

“The reality agent, she persist on promenading Randy through the futility room, the pouter room, a walled-in closet, the reckless nook, the tedium room, and the nifty home offense, when Randy already be sold.”

Like, we get it. The “reality” agent rather than “realty” agent, selling commercial plastic reality to the masses, the sheep. Mass media is for the proles, it’s dull, empty, too low-brow for intellectuals, anarchists, anarchist intellectuals, hence the “media room” becomes the “tedium room.” Shocking. Shocking satire. I’m just bl- Oh, wait, these ideas are in almost everything you’ve ever written, faux broken English doesn’t change these ideas, doesn’t make them exciting again.

I know you can use our craft, I’ve seen you do it. If your use of craft is strong enough, recurring ideas, recurring themes can work. Look at Franz Kafka, Michael Cisco. Kafka could always write bureaucracy turned personal Hell, Cisco can always write fever dreams, abstract nightmare translated into words, because of a strong, commanding use of craft. Faux broken English isn’t the way to go, it’s not a use of craft, it’s a waste. You realize we can only write so many words before we quit breathing, that the number is finite, not limitless? That being so, and it is so, why waste so many?


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Think about it

May 10th, 2015 | Category: Life,Random Thought

So, last night I took part in, well, there was a tabby cat, a rubber ball, and a pashmina.

Think about it.

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