Monday, December 21, 2009

The Christmas Fairy - Holiday Card 2009


Happy Holidays! Hope everyone has a happy, healthy, and prosperous holiday season and a very Happy New Year!

This is the design I went with for my traditional holiday card, that I send to family and friends. It was done in colored pencils. The medium that I am currently having a great bit of fun experimenting with. The original picture is 12 x 16.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Following The Masters - Challenge Seven - Self Portraits

I recently started following another online artist challenge hosted by Michelle Burnett called "Following The Masters". http://followingthemasters.blogspot.com/ Each challenge is designed to bring focus to the creative styles of past masters. This challenge's focus is the "self portrait".

One artist who has inspired my work greatly, at an early age, was the master illustrator and graphic designer M.C. Escher. His designs in woodcut and pen and ink were always appealing to me in their complex nature and detail. He is probably the reason I became fascinate with illustrating in pen and ink in the first place.

I tried to pattern this piece in a similar style that Escher might have used, while infusing my own unique flair to it in the process.

I like the hauntingly timeless style of cross hatching and pointillism. The style has it's roots in the Renaissance periods, and has developed it's appeal through the centuries, lending itself to the classic depictions in story books. Which is part of the reason why I fell in love with being an illustrator. The joy of telling stories with your art.

Friday, September 18, 2009

The Next Generation - And the ABC's of ATC's







A few friends of mine from an online artist community have endeavored to keep the thrill of the trade alive. We want to start a new trade exchange going, and since I am the self-elected coordinator (by default, since no one wanted the job ) I am posting this information here for future reference and leave the door open for future trades, for anyone else that would like to participate.

We are currently finishing up an exchange right now. And as you can see, it is a small grouping, which I wouldn't mind growing into a much larger community. All are welcome.

If all goes well, the next exchange I am planning will go off on December 21st of this year. This will give all new comers the chance to get those creative juices flowing and get some mini masterpieces ready for the event.

Things to know.....

The cards as I mentioned should be 2.5 inches by 3.5 inches. ( No more, no less.) The artwork should be original, meaning not photo copied reproductions. They do not have to be exclusively drawings or paintings, you can do collages, if you so choose, of different pictures. So long as the finished product is a unique work of art.

Be creative as you want to , just be careful not to build a 3-D sculpture as it may present problems when it comes time to mail your art.

The card should be of a business card consistency and thickness, though you can use water color paper, bristol, or even thin metals. Obviously you don't want to put your art on anything too brittle or flimsy! So use your own judgement.

You can work with any materials you like, pencils, paint, wax, glue, glitter, string, etc. So long as it fits in the sleeve.

Now if you are interested feel free to e- mail me at renaissancebull@aol.com, and I will give you my address so you know where to send your cards. And I can answer any other questions you may have. And I can give you some further mailing instructions to make this easy and fun for all!













ATC's Continued.



























These are the cards I received in the two exchanges I participated in. Needless to say I was quite thrilled to have taken part in the trades but even more delighted to have this small collection of portable art for my very own.

The appeal is to get as much of your art out there travelling around the world, and to get as much of others work into your own private collection. It is fun and inspiring. And it is fairly inexpensive to do. The only real cost is the card sleeves which you can purchase at any toy store, art shop, or comic book store. And of course the postage.

But I think it is worth the expense and effort, to have such mini masterpieces to keep and cherish. And these exchanges , like these blogs, brings us closer together as an artistic community.

Artist Trading Cards - ATC's

























Some of you may be familiar with this concept of ATC's ( Artist Trading Cards). If you are not then let me ellaborate. Basically you take a small card 2.5 inches by 3.5 inches. And you can paint, draw, or make little collages. But the basic idea is to produce a little mini masterpiece of your own work.

This has been going on world wide for many years. It has recently increased in popularity. Artists are trading these with other artists, and building rather unique collections of portable art. Very much the same idea as sports trading cards, only contoured to the art enthusiast.

I got interested in this when I was a member of an online artist community. One person volunteered to coordinate the exchange, and set a dead line for each. Then the participants would make there cards and mail them off to the coordinator. They would in turn arrange them fairly into sets, so that each participant got one set with a card from each artist.

The cards at the top were the sets I contributed to the two exchanges I participated in. It was a great deal of fun.

















Thursday, July 16, 2009

Natural Beauty from Niagra Falls.



























































Just a little slide show I thought would share, maybe some inspiration for future paintings! Enjoy!

The Mighty Niagra- Water, Fire and Lights!


video

I was feeling a little restless and decided to take a wee spin on the bike up to Niagra Falls. It is a place I remember from my childhood, and yet somehow as an adult, I almost didn't recognize it.

It has been almost 40 years since I was there last, and as I recall, I almost died. And no it was not from going over the falls in a barrel. I had gotten very ill and had a 107 degree fever. My family frantically cleaned out all the ice machines in the hotel we were staying at to give me a much needed deep freeze in the bathtub. So maybe that is the reason why my memory is a little foggy. But I doubt it.

I think what happens is that things seem more impressive and grandiose when you are young. As for the falls themselves, they are still cool to look at, but I can't say all that much for the surrounding area. It looks like it has seen better days. And as impressive as the falls are from either side, there really is not a whole lot to see there other than the various tourist traps, and they hardly measure up to the awe inspiring appeal of Mother Nature anyway or anyhow.

I decided to check out the falls at night, as I had often heard that they shine big colored lights on them. As an added bonus they were also planning a fireworks show for that night. So I was feeling most fortunate for being in the right place at the right time.

It was a fun trip over all, took lots of pictures and some video here and there. And decided to throw a little clip together so you can see some of what I was priviledged to experience first hand! Hope you enjoy!!!


Sunday, July 5, 2009

Week 39 -40 DSFDF Challenge "Rower in Lake Michigan"


































This weeks DSFDF Challenge hosted by Karin Jurick involves a woman rowing out on Lake Michigan. The challenge was to focus on rendering water, and hazy atmospheric conditions. But immediately I saw the expression on the woman's face and she seemed so forlorn. Like it was a pointless burden for her to be rowing in her boat.

This quickly led to me imagining her trapped in a snow globe, rowing in circles! Hopeless trapped in a pointless existence. Granted I took some artistic license with the globe, seeing as you wouldn't necessarily have ripples in the water below her if she was in an airtight, fully filled globe. But that is what I love about illustration, you can play around with the facts and reality. And if you know enough about me by now, I usually try and shoot for the visual gag, rather that adhere to the laws of physics.



Tuesday, June 30, 2009

An Illuminating Slide Show



This gives you a rough idea of the power involved in one of these strikes, pretty darn impressive! And such pretty colors too!

Mother Nature's Art and Effects


video

One of my passions in life besides art and the cinema, is nature. Just love when nature puts on a show, even more so when it is a light show! So when ever I get the opportunity I try and catch different events, such as lightning strikes. Just call me a fool in the rain!

And I will further add it takes a great deal of patience and perseverence! I wish I had more than one video camera. This way I could set up a bunch and leave them running! Get more coverage of the sky. But in a way , it is fun to try and catch a strike, sort of like hunting for fire flies! But a little more intense!

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Digging into the Past














Since joining the challenge group (DSFDF) I have been forced to rediscover, quite willingly skills I had let fall by the wayside. I was never fond of doing landscapes, not because as others might say, it was out of my comfort level. But because I have honestly , always found them boring.
I tend to draw in a very illustrative style because I like telling stories of capturing little moments with my art. I also just enjoy presenting static images in interesting ways, either through aesthetic design, use of color or extreme lighting, or simply because of it's content alone.

The style I use relies heavily on tight delineated lines and shading, or modeling. Heavy light accents mixed with heavy contrasting shadows. Which is why I love illustration, you can take the rules of nature and chuck them right out the window. Also explains why I love doing digital work now in Photoshop and Illustrator. Explorations of the imagination.

And regrettably, I have lost the other side of art which is the personal expression and interpretation of the soul through art. Abstract art is probably the best vehicle for this exploration into the nuts and bolts of feelings. Shapes, colors, and shadows, randomly joined to invoke an emotional response.

This picture "Faded Fields" is a drawing I did some twenty years ago, because I loved the photo, I based it from. It was an early morning shot of a field. The lighting and the color is what attracted me to this image, of what is ordinarily in my mind a boring landscape. But there is a abstract beauty to what I call the perfect moment. Where you can't describe why something is beautiful, it just is.
I haven't done many landscapes, this is probably a one of a kind I just happen to find buried in an old portfolio. And I still like the image even today, and I am starting to feel a yearning again to rediscover the feelings behind the art.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

" What Happens in the Fields...."




















This weeks challenge was to explore the realm of color.  The image provided was a pastoral landscape of rolling farm land.  The object was to use a variety of color.  Not unlike the lesson learned in the Harry Chapin's song  " Flowers Are Red".
Instead of just using the standard green fields and blue skies, the challenge was to integrate a vast range of color.
I love working in technicolor, whenever possible, and of course interjecting my own brand of irreverent humor.    I decided to go for the obvious laugh.  Since we are dealing with crops and farm land, why not have a lost alien couple.  They have landed in the wheat and are now engaged in ritualistic activity of arguing over where they are.
Of course in any species, the man refuses to pull over and ask for directions.




Wednesday, May 20, 2009



























Well I waited way too late to get under way with this latest challenge!   I pretty much took this down to the wire.  Got it in the mail to Karin  just around supper time of the last day.   Wanted to do so much more with this one, started to get a little punchy with the background and just wanted to  finish it on time.    But that is what happens when you wait until the last minute to start a very involved project.  That will learn me.  Hope you guys like it anyway? 

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Another Dimension to Diana

Just wanted to throw in a quick post.  As much as I like working the old school skills, I like to take a lot of my art to the next plateau.   I am a fan of mixed mediums,  and I like giving my fine art a wash through the Photoshop bathtub.

I have been exploring the unlimited realms of the digital palette, for many years now...  and as excited as I was to have finished the original pencil drawing,  I am equally thrilled to play around and make a whole new piece of art from it.   I have been trying to pioneer my own unique style towards doing this.    And in doing so, hopefully leaving my own unique mark on the world.

The background for this is inspired by my love of symbolism and mythology.  I decided to go with a subtle but symbolic shape.   And in homage to the goddess, the phases of the moon became my backdrop for this piece.

Friday, April 24, 2009

DSFDF Challenge - "Companion of Diana "


    This weeks challenge was very cool.     It gave me a chance to dust off some of my drawing skills.

It also got me back into the concept of planning out your design through the use of geometry, mathematics  and proportion.   It was easy, .......... thank God for erasers! 

But I had alot of fun diving into this project.  The intricacies of the shading, versus the opposing light sources was interesting.

I debated about doing a background with this, but didn't want to clutter up the space as I wanted to keep the focus on the statue, rather than my ability to fill up a background.
And I spent so much time on her in a Zen meditative state, I kinda want you to be looking at her!

Anyway, it was good to get back in the drawing saddle.  And it was cool to do an interpretive piece on a bit of artwork, that was in itself an interpretation of a live model.  A clear case of art imitating art, that is imitating life!  

 Kudos to Karin at  DifferentStrokesFromDifferentFolks.blogspot.com     for doing this challenge.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

A Pause for the Cause of Painted Pet Paws!


This is a recent bit of artwork a friend asked me to design for her charitable work with animals.

The basic concept was to effectively bring to mind the idea of artwork being used to help raise awareness and or money to save shelter animals and find good homes for them.

I decided to go with a simple design of a paint palette with five paint dabs to make it resemble in a very clever fashion,... an animals paw.  And I was happy to help.

After all animals are loving creatures that give back to us in so many ways! 

Friday, April 3, 2009

The Joy of Spring and the Agony of Defeat



I love the coming of Spring, the warm weather, the sunshine, the smells of nature and other pleasures.  But what I enjoy the most is getting my bike ready for riding.

Every autumn I place my baby into a hybernated state.   I place fuel additive into the fuel tank, remove the battery, place the cover over it and roll her into her little corner of my friend Tony's garage.

When I made my final preparations last fall, I failed to notice that I had dropped something.  A something of great importance, though at the time, seemed of no consequence to me.

My pal Tony, had found a square nut, on his garge floor a few days later, and had the great forsight and prescence of mind to pick it up, and save it.  And for reasons I will divulge shortly, I am glad he did.


So the other day, I decided since it had gotten warmer and finally stopped raining, that I would go over his place, and restore my bike back to a rideable condition.  And I made sure to do two very important things, the first was to grab the battery and the second was to grab the little square nut, pictured above.

When I got to his place,  I grabbed the battery out of my car and walked over to his garage.  I opened the door and saw my baby sitting right where I had left her months before.  And I set forth to  make her road worthy once more.

I removed the cover,  and rolled the bike out of the garage into the sunlight, so I could see what I was doing with greater ease.   The part of the proceedure was to put the battery back in, and in order to do this, I had to remove the seat.

So I grabbed a set of Allen wrenches and went ahead and took the seat off, so I could get to the battery compartment.  Once off, I was able to access the battery box, and set the battery into place.

That done, I went to go attach the ground wire to it's terminal, and to my surprise I ran into a wee problem.  The bolt that holds the wire to the terminal, just kept spinning and spinning. 
Hmmmm.... I thought to myself this is not good.

Then I made the little "two watt light bulb connection".   I dug into my pocket and pulled out the little square nut.  And then I lifted the battery out, to see if the nut would fit somehow in the battery terminal.   Wouldn't you know it, it did!  Hooray!

So I put the battery into the bike, and decided I would tightened the other wire first, only to discover that the terminal was missing it's nut as well.   Oh noooooooo........ damn!!!

Quickly I removed the battery, yet again, and gave a quick look in the battery box.... ah... success!  The missing nut was at the bottom.  So I retrieved the pesky fixture and slid it into the terminal and proceeded to slide the battery back into the bike, again.

Of course Murphy was lurking near by, and as I did this , the nut slid out of the terminal as I tried to slide the battery in.  I was treated to the sound of it bouncing deep into the inner workings of the bike, not to be seen or heard from again.  Aaaarggggh!!!

I searched, and searched, and searched..... couldn't find it.  So I decided that this was a poorly engineered design.  And  just an irritating tragedy!    My plans to get my sophisticated, state of the art motorcycle ready and road worthy were brought to a crashing halt!

So I drove to the nearby dealership with hopes of finding a replacement.   But if you have ever had to deal with a parts department, you know already I was facing a wall of frustration, for two reasons.

The first being is that they are always horribly understaffed.  And secondly, they are not manned by the most well educated individuals.   I am sure each parts dept.  has at least one well learned expert, but that person is almost never around!

As was the case when I arrived.  Instead I got a semi-eager associate who meant well but was not savvy enough to help.  And in all fairness the part in question was not a standard issue motorcycle component, so much as it was part of the battery which is technically a peripheral part of the whole.

He did his best to help, which meant that he took the one nut I did have, and found the highly trained parts man in the back, only to re-emerge moments later to sadly inform me that he couldn't help me.   But this I sort of knew walking in, .... though I gave it a shot.

Not deterred I decided I would wander over to the service department, with the hopes that maybe one of the techs could help.   Having worked over the years  in the automotive industry, I knew that often techs, when repairing things, will  save extraneous things like new hardware and use the old ones instead.

Thankfully, this was the case, and I was soon presented with a little plastic baggy, filled with not one set, but two sets of shiny brand new nuts and bolts for my battery.  Best part is that it didn't cost me a thing.   Well a part for some time and effort,  that will never be regained once spent!

So I headed back to my friend's house, and managed to install the battery, finally, before the sun started sliding downward into dusk.   It was too late to go for a ride, but I decided I would at least turn her over.   And with one push of the starter button, the proud mechanical beast roared to life!

I was dissappointed that I couldn't take her for a spin, but relieved that she was back in service once again.  And I comforted myself that there would be other sunny days in which to ride.  So I turned my bike off and wheeled her back into the garage.

I stared at the lonely nut in my hand and laughed to myself about how ironic that such a small insignificant lump of metal could render such a marvel of engineering that is my motorcycle, completely useless.  It boggles the mind!    But I guess in a Zen kind of way, it is reassuring to know that even the most insignificant of things probably serves a more useful purpose in life, than you know!    And to always hang on to those extra parts lying around.  Junk drawers can serve a useful purpose, once and a while!   Hmmm... there is a life lesson in there somewhere! 


Sunday, March 29, 2009

" I think he has friends out there! " says Capt. Ahab.




















Different Strokes For Different Folks - A Creative Consortium.

This is a bi-weekly project my friend Sheila got me interested in. Basically you are given a photo to work from, and you are left to your own devices to decide what you will do with it!

I immediately fixated on the "fatherly figure" and how detached he seemed from his family. It gave me the impression of a sea captain like "Ahab". Then I started developing the concept of the lonely at the top commander with his disgruntled crew .

The father seems lost in thought as he scans the horizon, his family almost seems to be standing dejectedly by, awaiting his orders. So of course with my crazy imagination, I decided to do a Moby Dick theme. With Ahab, having captured his prize, much to the shock and horror of his family. As if you can almost hear his wife's silent thoughts " This is not going to fit in the luggage rack on the Volvo! "

The rest as they say is history. I will probably start joining this fun project and posting my designs on a regular basis.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Remain Vigilant - It's A Tough World Out There


Well, hello again fellow bloggers. Just feelingI am in one of those enlightened and yet, fatalistic moods!

I always muse that the internet aspires to bring the world closer together, and yet somehow, I feel it makes us more anti-social.

We no longer need to interact with other humans, we now engage screen names, avatars, and online personalities.

We don't even have to venture outside anymore to get our most basic of necessities. Groceries can now be purchased online.

So now compiled with online bill paying, it is conceivable that if you are someone who is completely agoraphobic or anti social, you don't ever have to venture outside ever again!

And since so many people are making their livings online with such websites like E-bay and Craig's List, it pretty much keeps the outside world, well.... outside.

And in this day and age, I am noticing that in the more fast paced urban areas, people are becoming less amicable towards one another. Road rage is on the rise, every one is fast becoming a disgruntled consumer in the check out of life.

Motor vehicles used to be the butt of every joke as far as waiting in line went. Now if you are at the supermarket, and the lines are longer that two people deep, it seems the gripers and whiners have a right to complain. Although for some strange reason banks are unaffected by this, you could still die of old age waiting for an available teller. But guess what they now have full service ATM's every where. ( Including super markets! Not to mention mini-bank branches.)

I think part of it is, we don't want to get trapped into banal conversation with strangers anymore! Chit chat and small talk have fallen by the wayside. People don't want to be inconvenienced or imposed upon, and because we are vastly losing the art of polite conversation with real live people. We are becoming jaded with the safety and security of talking to strangers on line! ;)

Because online if you don't want to talk to someone anymore, you just click off and ...poof... you are gone. And the great part, is that you don't need to apologize or come up with a neurotic Jerry Seinfeld style excuse..... oh I have a dentist appointment. Excuse me.

And unless you live in an area that is not being plagued with massive urban renewal or over development projects, you are just being squeezed into tighter more compact situations with a growing population of people.

It is no wonder we are becoming anti-social. And as a race we haven't changed in 30,000 years, we are suspicious of others, especially if you look and act different. And if we don't like you, our first instincts are to get as far away as possible. Or if you are less inclined to move, to nip the problem in the bud. Which is why we have gun control laws in affect! And a good thing too!

I guess as much as progress and technology are improving the quantity of life it is not exactly improving the quality of life. We can now get better, bigger, faster, delivered to our doorstep. But I think it comes at a price, and a sacrifice of values and ideals.

We are vast becoming a race of people who are programmed at birth to want more and appreciate less. And somehow the hubris of the old timers rings true, things might have been better in the good old days!

We are at the peak of our game, we are technologically advanced. But if you are able to pinpoint all the other races that were ahead of their time in there own ages, you fast realize that each and every one died out mysteriously without any warning!

So get your re-inforced home security system, and a better car alarm, and stop by the gun shop to get the latest in personal protection, oh .....and don't forget to update your virus protection for your computer.... but no matter how much you prepare for the worst, it's inevitable that the worst may one day find you.

So my advice is enjoy your life as best you can, if your fellow man ain't out to get you, something else is! No sense wasting time waiting for it, go out there and live your life to the fullest! And don't let paranoiya get the best of you! It's a tough world out there, remain vigilant! And have a nice day! :)

Saturday, March 21, 2009

The Teacher and The Student

I have been on both sides of this relationship in life. As much as I love learning new things, I also love sharing them with those who wish to learn as well.

And this relationship is important as it feeds the hunger to learn more so that you can share more!

I have learned many things in life, some useful, some just entertaining. Over time, you learn so much that you forget many of your accumulated bits of wisdom. And it is not until someone starts picking through your brain, that you remember half the stuff you have stored away in boxes in the corners of your mind.

Which begs the questions, can you have a yard sale for all your excess life lessons? What is a memory worth on E-bay?

Friday, March 20, 2009

Welcome to Spring

video

I was hoping that when I woke up this morning I would be greeted by a "Disney-esque" view of Spring outside my window, brilliant rays of sunshine and birds chirping merrily in a tree. Nope, instead I saw large chunks of snow crashing down from the heavens!

Who says " Mother Nature doesn't have a sense of humor?"

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Wisdom Through The Ages


I remember this young man. Roaming the streets on NYC in the early 80's with very few cares in the world. Man he had no idea what he was getting into. Oh how ignorance is bliss!

This was taken in 1981 while I was attending the School of Visual Arts on 23rd St. It was more than likely one the first days of school. It is also the last time in life my face was clean shaven. I pretty much rocked a mustache from here on out, and the occasional beard/goatee.

The medal around my neck is a St. Raphael medal. (Patron saint of healing.) It was given to me by a very strange and yet very wise old man. He apparently thought I would need it. And he was right!

Curiously enough I am wearing a tee shirt that says Live for Life. And if I am not mistaken, a few months earlier I was planning on checking out for good! But I asked the Almighty for a sign. And he gave one in the form of that old man and the medal.

Much of my life after that has been a rather bizarre series of events, that I am still trying to figure out? It has seemed long and bumpy, and yet full of some interesting stories, and though I get a little worn down here and there, and very depressed I hang on.... more so because I am always curious to see how the story will end?

Sometimes I miss this young bull, wish I could lay some serious wisdom on him,.... and yet every once and a while I catch him staring back at me in the mirror smiling. He's smiling, because he knows a few things I have forgotten, like how to find the joy in life. That is one of the easiest things to forget as you get older.

I used to laugh at myself, and say " Don't stare too far into the past, or you might go blind!" But I have found that you need to take the occasional look back. Sometimes in order to know where you are going, you have to remember where you have been?

Friday, March 13, 2009

Death and Pot Roast - A Near Dinner Experience

It is amazing how the pivotal moments in life can be remembered in perfect detail, even after so much time has passed. The example I will relate here, is about the day my life almost came to an end. It involves a collision I had with a motorist, while I was riding my motorcycle home for dinner one evening.

The day in question was December 2nd, 1982. It was a day I will never forget as long as I shall live. I was 19 years old, and recently fired from my job as a maintenance man at a local McDonalds. That in itself would make for along story, but not for telling here and now. For this is the tale of how my world came to an end for a brief moment in time, and how my family received their own special Christmas miracle.

As stated I was now unemployed and had my recent days to do with as I pleased. I recall sleeping in late, and loving it, since my previous position required me to get up before dawn. I rolled out of bed around 10:00 am, and strolled downstairs to grab some breakfast. I was greeted by my mother, who was making some early preparations for dinner, which was to be her famous Pot Roast. My mouth just watered thinking about it.

We chatted for a bit, while I ate some cereal and she asked me what my plans were for the day? I told her that more than likely I would head over to my friends house, and that from there we would probably hit up the local pool hall for several enjoyable hours of snooker! My mom just smiled and told me not to be late for supper. She knew I wouldn’t miss her Roast for anything in the world. So I gave her a kiss, and I headed upstairs to get dressed.

I can still remember what I put on for that day, down to the last detail. I had on a brown pair of corduroys , my favorite Jethro Tull tee-shirt, a blue hooded sweatshirt over that, and a very nicely worn in pair of Wellington boots. My blue ski jacket completed the ensemble along with a pair of long black riding gloves. I grabbed my helmet, went out to the garage, and started up my motorcycle.

It was my first of what would be many bikes that I have owned, a turquoise blue 1972 Honda CB 360. Looking back it was a ridiculously small bike compared to what I ride today, but she was a pretty gal, and I rode her everywhere, and all year long. It technically was my first carl. I slipped her into gear and headed down the driveway. The next stop, my friends house a few miles on the other side of town.

I pulled into my friend’s driveway and parked my bike just off to the side. I walked up to his door and rang the bell. Moments later, my friend emerged with his pool cue in hand. He greeted me and the two of us piled into his truck and drove off to the local pool hall in town.

We talked and played pool all afternoon. I checked my watch as the day wore on and told my friend it was time to leave. I didn’t want to be late for dinner. So we drove back to his house, and after giving him a hearty handshake, I got back on my bike and headed for home.

The whole way back all I could think about, was how great that Pot Roast was going to taste, melting in my mouth. And of course I would add several portions of mash potatoes to that, smothered in her delicious gravy. In minutes I would be home, washing up for dinner, and taking my place at the table. I simply couldn’t wait. Unfortunately, I would not be coming home that evening!

I was about a mile from my house, when I approached a certain, very busy “T” intersection. A long line of cars were standing still waiting to make a left hand turn. As I got up to it, I started to go around the obstruction, and as I got up to the first car in line, I was confronted with a most unexpected site, a pick up truck coming right at me.

I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and passing the foot of someone’s driveway, and that certain someone was making a rapid, un-signaled turn right into me. There was no warning, I had no time to react, and all I could think of was, “ Shit, this is gonna hurt!”

Then it happened, his front bumper slammed into my bike and I caught the full force of his grill right in the ribs. The impact sent me flying a full twenty feet away. I landed on my back and came to an abrupt halt in his driveway. I was feeling seriously dazed and confused. But then again, sudden aggressive traumas will do that to you!

I can still remember trying to get to my feet as quick as I could. The driver was out of his truck yelling at me to stay still. In my delirium I stood up and tried to take a few steps, all the while the man was screaming at me to stay still. My scrambled brain was trying to make sense of what just happened, and I moaned back at him, “ No, if I stay down, the pain will wash all over me!” Can’t say what the hell I was thinking, but I took one step and collapsed on the ground. What happened next was most bizarre!

I will not say that I had an “Outer Body Experience” but whatever it was, I was no longer soundly amongst the living! I found myself walking along a mountain trail. It was dark and I couldn’t really see where I was going? There were no distinguishable landmarks, and I had no idea, how I had gotten there?

So I just kept walking alone in the dark, looking for some sign as to where I was? But where ever it was, all I know was it was quiet, too quiet. I covered several yards, before something struck me as peculiar. I realized that I was not all that concerned about anything. Not in the way, I was accustomed to worrying about things. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how ambivalent I truly was, and that I think is what scared me the most! I honestly didn’t have a care in the world. Then I really started to tremble.

“ Oh my God!”, I thought to myself, “ I am dead!” “ How the hell, can I be dead?” I had always heard that when you die, you see a very bright light. Well leave it to me get that part wrong as well. “ Can't even die right!” I mused to myself. No this wasn’t right, I wanted to get out of this place right away!

I don’t know how exactly the transition happened, but all of a sudden I was spinning. The world around me was twirling about violently, spinning, and spinning. And then with out realizing it, the world just popped into focus, and I became aware that my eyes were open and I was alive again.

The first thing I noticed, other than that I could hear the sudden cacophony of sound all around me, was a woman’s face inches away from mine and she was screaming at me! I thought to myself, “ Why the hell is this woman’s face so close to mine?” “ And why are you screaming at me?” This was certainly rude behavior! A little insult to injury, after what I just went through.

As it turns out, the woman was a nurse, who had happen to be in one of the cars close at hand. The reason that she was screaming at me, was because she was trying to get me to wake up. Once I was fully awake, she told me that I had been unconscious and not breathing for several minutes. She honestly thought I had died!

Now I am not a medical expert, but being unresponsive and lifeless for that long usually implies one of two things, either you are dead, or about to suffer some serious brain damage! Thankfully for me the guardian angels were on the scene, and covering my ass big time!

As I gained what little composure I could, given the situation, I looked up between my feet and saw my poor bike laying a few feet away on it’s side. I was pissed, but then I had a moment of grim satisfaction. I saw that my bike had punched a huge hole in this assholes grill. Don’t know why that made me smile but it did! I guess it was a little proud defiance, knowing that if I was going down, I could still inflict a little damage in return.

It became obvious to me, that I had regained my wry sense of humor, and I realized as I took a deep breath, that I was back, and wasn’t planning on going anywhere, anytime soon! Also I wasn’t about to make it home for dinner! Now I was really pissed! I was so looking forward to that Pot Roast.


So now, I was back amongst the living and trying to roll the few functioning marbles in my brain, back into their appropriate holes. I just survived a near fatal collision, that is to say, an argument with a very large pick up truck, and lost!

While I was lying on the ground I was accosted by a police officer, who had all the manners of torture chamber interrogator. He didn’t even bother to introduce himself or say hello, instead he began barking questions at me. He wanted to see my driver’s license, and I told him that would be some what difficult, seeing as it was in my wallet, which was in my back pocket. I told the officer that understandably so, I am in a great amount of pain, and that I would be unable to reach my wallet, as I was laying on my back.

This did not seem to register with him, as he continued to demand that I show him my license. I wondered to myself, what would he do, if I failed to comply, would he just hand cuff me right then and there and haul me off to jail? I certainly would have liked to see him try.

But being the agreeable sort of person that I am, I told him, he would have to grab it himself, and that he had my permission to do so. He was reluctant at first, since I gather it is not protocol to remove items from a persons body at the scene of an incident. I assured him that not only was it okay for him to do so, but that it was the only way he was going to see my license.

So he rolled me a little to one side, as the EMT people looked on reminding him, to be careful, as I might have sustained injuries to my neck and spine. But I don’t think this over zealous cop was all that concerned for my well being. Once he located my wallet, he pulled it out and handed it back to me.

This really confounded me, since he already had the wallet, all he had to do now, was open it! But no, he informed me he was not allowed to go digging into my wallet, I would have to take it out myself and hand it to him. I thought to myself, “You have to be kidding! “ This was nothing more than added insult to injury!

So I fished my license out, and handed it to him. And the officer scurried off to his cruiser to start filling out his report. By now it was getting very dark and very cold, I was tired, hungry, and by now very chilled to the bone, from having been laying on the cold pavement for so long.

A small bit of comfort was bestowed on me when I recognized one of the paramedics was a buddy I went to school with. He smiled at me, and told me that they were going to take very good care of me. This was more reassuring than you could know! So I sighed, and laid back, as they lifted me unto a gurney and loaded me into the back of the ambulance.
I knew from this point, that no matter I what I had to endure, once I got to the hospital, things were going to be okay!

I would come to find out in hind sight, that things would be okay, but I would have to go through some things even more traumatizing than the accident itself. Ignorance is bliss, for if I knew what lay in store for me once I got to the hospital, I might have declined, medical treatment altogether!

The hospital was even more of a hellish nightmare than I expected, having never been in one before, as a patient. The chaos, the noise, the alien environment all lent itself to putting me on edge. I was in serious amounts of pain, and all anyone could seem to focus on was making me even more ill at ease!

Then as I was lying there in the emergency room, a rather bizarre encounter with a young nurse was about to unfold. It was her responsibility to prep me for the initial examination, to determine the extent of my injuries! Under any other circumstances, what followed might have been otherwise enjoyable.

She tried to help me off with my jacket and sweat shirt, not at all concerned if I had any neck injuries. But since I didn’t have any that I could tell, she was able to get these off with little or no discomfort on my part. Next she warned me that she would have to cut my boots off. I told her straight out, “ I don’t care if my foot comes off with it, you are not cutting my boots!” It took me a long time to get them broken in, and I had a lot of history with them.

So she did her best to wiggle them off, and with no great surprise, this was an effortless task. I would find out later that my left foot was completely smashed up, and curiously I was not able to feel any pain despite this fact. She was also able to get my tee-shirt off with no great discomfort either. It was becoming clearer to me, thankfully, that my injuries were not spinal related.

And yet for some reason, because I deprived her of the thrill of getting her scissors out for my boots, she felt compelled to cut my pants off! She cited that she was concerned for my lower back, though it didn’t seem to bother it much, when I had to lift my butt up, to get my underwear off. I couldn’t be certain, but I could swear I saw the tiniest hint of a grin on her face. Like I said, under any other circumstances, this might have been pleasurable. I was just happy that my boots were still in one piece.

I ended up spending two weeks in this place and put through all kinds of torture. I think the worst of it was that I spent an entire day with internal bleeding, and no one seemed to notice this fact but me? My stomach had swollen up to the size of a beach ball. By the time they realized this, I was in excruciating pain. I was literally banging the walls like a lunatic, screaming for help!

Part of the problem was that at the time I was in excellent shape, and all my vital signs were normal, despite the fact that I had lost several pints of blood. Well okay, I didn’t lose them per se, they were still inside me, just not where they belonged. I was starting to wonder how long it would take before my stomach exploded in a bloody mess?

It took the brilliant minds of the medical staff two days to get me into surgery. But before this could happen they needed to do a CAT scan. Another step in a long line of sadistic procedures I would be subjected to before this ordeal would be over.

If you have ever had internal injuries and needed to go in for a scan, let me tell you, they are not fun. They make you drink this nasty crap called Barium, which must be said, tastes like chalk! Not that I have ever ingested chalk, but I would have to imagine this is what chalk would taste like in liquid form. It is horrible.

Before they could even scan my body, I was asked to swallow a “Big Gulp” sized cup of this awful concoction. So being the trooper I am, I just closed my eyes and pretended it was a giant milkshake, and down it in one continuous swig! Yuck, it was indescribably bad! But I relaxed knowing I could now get on with the business at hand.

When they rolled me down to the room where the machine was, I was confronted by a technician and a nurse who wanted me to drink another large cup of this crap. I looked at the cup being shoved in my face, and then I looked back at them. “ Here’s the deal”, I told them, quite vehemently, “ If I have to swallow more of this vile swill, I am going to vomit! “ It took a few minutes of passionate persuasion, but I managed to convince them, one monstrous cup of this poison in me would have to suffice. They were not happy, but it couldn’t be helped. I appealed to their higher wisdom, and won! Score one for the little guy!

The scan itself, was a brutal process for me as well. The machine takes line scans of select areas of the body. In this test, they were trying to see how bad the injuries to my side were. I had sustained bruises to my rib cage, though miraculously, none of them were broken. I did however, have a collapsed lung. Which made breathing very difficult.

Not surprising, what became so tortuous for me, was that the scan involved the technician taking incremental scans of my chest cavity. This required me to extend my arms over my head and take a deep breath and hold it. I had to do this over and over again, for what seemed like hours. Let me just say, with only one working lung and a set of bruised ribs, this was just excruciating. But I realized it was necessary, so I suffered through this torture.

Again had I known in advanced what I would have to suffer through, I might have resisted seeking medical attention. But I was grateful to be alive, though it would take me a few more days to be in the proper frame of mind to appreciate this fact. More ordeals lay in store.


I think the thing that bothered me the most during my stay, was being there so close to the holidays. I felt bad for the people that had to be there much longer than I did. And it can be a very depressing place to be at any point in the year! I didn’t want to be there, and I am sure most of the patients wished with all their hearts, they could be somewhere else too!

I also felt bad, because I made my mom a nervous wreck. I knew I was going to be fine, once I snapped back to reality back at the intersection! The problem for my mom, is that she didn’t know this, since it is a mother’s job to worry! That, and the fact that when she came to visit, I was either in intense pain, or drifting in and out of consciousness!

The full tally for the damage done to me was, a collapsed lung, several bruised ribs, a shattered left foot and for the grand finally, a ruptured spleen. Something you want in one piece if you can help it! Between the surgeries, the tubes and machines they had me hooked up to, and all the related complications that arise from such injuries, my poor mom just feared for the worse!

What made it even harder for her besides seeing me in such agony, was that they had me on some pretty hefty drugs for the pain. And when I wasn’t writhing and thrashing about, I was slipping into medicated bliss in the middle of talking to her. Every time I would drift off, she feared I was dying. Because one minute I would be coherent, the next I would be unconscious.

The second thing that bothered me, was waking up after the major surgery on my spleen. To start with, they shave your privates. Let me tell you that itches like a son of a bitch, but not nearly as annoying as waking up to find you have a catheter in you, or as horrifying to realize you have a tube in your nose, snaked all the way down to your stomach to drain off any excess fluids.

I can’t say I enjoyed the pain of having my chest and stomach ripped open, then stapled shut. Not that you remember the surgery from a mental point of view, but your body remembers it and the unnatural feeling of being spread so far apart. And on top of that, because I was so tangled up in tubes, I was not able to move from the prone position in my bed. My back was developing some nasty bed sores.

I was in a constant state of misery, and even when I summoned the strength to try and turn to one side, I was confronted with one of two complications. I couldn’t roll to my left, because my ribs were still very sore. And if I tried to roll to my right, well then I ended up stretching my ribs, which was equally as painful. It was just a no win situation, one I felt compelled to do, about once an hour, every day. And inevitably I convinced myself, the bed sores were the lesser of three evils.

But there was a bright side to all of this. I was not being fed solid foods. I went ten days without a morsel of food passing my lips, they had me on IV nutrients and vitamins, to sustain me. I ended up losing about 40 pounds! And by the time I got out, all my clothes were just hanging off me. It works better than a diet, but I don’t recommend you getting seriously injured in order to lose weight. Exercise would be a lot easier, trust me!

The real mental torture behind all of this, was that at meal times, my room mates would be served their three squares a day. And for all the bad rap hospital food gets, let me tell you, when you are starving, even that green Jello with the fruit in it looks good.

On one occasion my room mate was asleep, and the orderly placed his meal down on my table by mistake. I know it was not mine, but if it was left there unattended, I would have tried to eat it! But alas, they quickly realized there mistake, and took it away. I almost cried, I was so hungry!

On a comical note, when I was finally allowed to eat solid food, what seemed like an eternity later, I was ravenous. I can still remember what they brought me in full detail. And trust me when I tell you, the irony almost killed me. It was Pot Roast, mash potatoes, string beans, and cranberry sauce! And for desert, a huge slice of Boston Cream pie.

But since it was not my mom’s roast, and I was “jonesing” for something truly tasty, I attacked the pie, much the way you see a starving person in a movie attacking a scrap of bread! I started shoveling it into my mouth, but I only got two bites into it, when I tried to swallow. And once it hit my now shriveled stomach, I was in such intense pain, I had to stop! “Man!” I thought to myself, “ This is just not fair!” I finally get to have solid food, and I can’t eat it. Reluctantly I had to ask for something lighter like soup.

But I survived the impact, my injuries, the bizarre bed side manner of the hospital staff, having radioactive chemicals coursing through my body, starvation, being confined in a solitary position for weeks thanks to all the tubes and wires, and two major reconstructive surgeries! I even survived the healing process which was not without it’s trials!

I was thankful, despite my growing complaints, to be alive, and on my way to recovery! The doctors were top notch, and they performed a radical new operation, that allowed me to keep my spleen. Instead of removing it completely, they only took out the damaged portion, and allowed the two halves to link up at some point, in a little aluminum foil tunnel. Which was astounding, and awesome news for my mom, and for me in an indirect sort of way.

My mom learned as I did, that with out a spleen, you have no immunities, even a simple cold can kill you! She threatened to lock me up in a bubble. And I assured her, that if it was a choice of living safely in captivity, or taking my chances outside amongst the germs! I would choose the germs. I survived an amazing amount of punishment, and death! I was not going to let this stand in my way, that is of course if I could actually stand.

I take my hat off to the doctor who repaired my foot as well. When he showed me the x-ray, I swear to you, there was not one bone in my left foot that was not smashed in some form or other. And he was able to set most of the breaks, and he inserted metal pins to hold the rest together while they healed. All in all, I was one lucky guy. I would have the full use of my foot, and my immune systems when all was said and done!

All that was left at this point was my physical therapy. When I was strong enough to walk, or hobble as the case may be, seeing as I had a cast on my leg, and delicate sutures holding my insides together, they wheeled me down to the PT room. Then they introduced me to my next greatest challenge. A pair of crutches!

Originally they wanted to err on the side of caution, and keep me there for a few more days, while I regained my full strength. But I was determined to prove that I could get about with the crutches. A hospital is a horrible place to be, especially around the holidays, and by now, we were edging ever closer to Christmas. I wanted out, in a very big way!

The therapist/trainer handed me the crutches and told me he would be working with me over the next few days. I looked back at him, and with fiery resolve in my heart, told him, “ Sorry, you are going to be my therapist for the next few minutes!” I grabbed the crutches, stood up, and climbed all his bloody obstacles with passionate vigor,.... twice!
I looked back at him with a defiant smile, “ Can I go now?”

It was against their better judgment, but they had to admit, that seeing as I had lost 40lbs, a great deal of muscle mass, half my blood supply, the use of my left lung temporarily, a small portion of a major organ, and that my body was being held together with staples, stitches and pins, ........I was getting around, better than they expected! They had no idea, how badly I just wanted to go home. Quite reluctantly the doctors and staff signed off on me, and turned me loose. It was indeed a Christmas miracle! I was going home!

My family was ecstatic, especially my mom! It was the greatest present anyone could have given her, the return of her child, to full health. More or less! When I got home I was treated to such a warm turnout, the house was full of family, relatives, friends and neighbors, all there to greet me and wish me well. I felt like George Bailey in “ It’s A Wonderful Life”!

And though I was very happy to see them, all I really wanted to do, was go to sleep in my own bed! Be it ever so dysfunctional, there was no place like home!

The real miracle for me, was that for the briefest moment in time, my family stopped fighting with one another, and became a focused, loving and functioning unit again, and all it took was me almost dying! “God bless us, everyone!”

Days later, curiosity got the better of me, and I just had to hobble out to the garage to see my poor bike. In all the confusion and distraction of the incident, I wasn’t sure how it had fared? Standing in the garage, I took a quick tour around my poor baby, and was astonished to find that it had fared better than I did. Except for a dent in the gas tank, and a bent down tube in the frame, (consequently where my foot got pinned), there was hardly a scratch on it!

While I was standing there in silent amazement, my brother had wandered in behind me and said with a smile, “ It almost didn’t survive!” I turned to look at him quizzically, “What do you mean?” He went on to tell me, that after my mom got home from the hospital that first night, she was completely distraught. It took my father and my brother to hold her back. She wanted to grab my dad’s sledge hammer and smash my poor bike to pieces! I just stared at him dumbfounded, “ Thanks, I guess?”

But I am glad she didn’t, though I never rode it again, I didn’t hold the bike responsible for what happened. It was just really bad karma on my part, and the idiot driver who didn’t see me coming! I figured, I could just as easily have been injured by a bus, while stepping off the curb. If it is your time to go, it doesn’t really matter what you are doing, it’s simply your time!

Months later to my mom’s great consternation, I went out and bought another motorcycle, and have been riding ever since. A small curious note, is that years later, after a few more bad accidents occurred after mine, the town did two very radical things.

The first is they closed off the driveway at the intersection, and re-routed it to the other side of the property, and then they set up a traffic light. A little late for me, but at least some greater good came from my misfortune! So that other’s would not have to go through what I experienced on my way home to my mom’s pot roast dinner!

The End

A Legendary Flyer and Unsung Hero


In 1977 my brother Dave was approached by a gentleman named Ed Lawler who commissioned him to build a model replica of a Spad XIII. Mr. Lawler wanted to give this to his dear friend as a Christmas gift. The irony here was much like the Pope approaching Michelangelo, who was primarily a sculptor, to paint the ceiling in The Cistine Chapel. My brother was not so much an artist as he was a musician. And I was more the person who was into history and military aircraft.

To my brother it was a way to earn some extra cash. So he took the job on, and enlisted my help in building the model. My brother probably wouldn't have minded if I built the thing myself, so long as he got the dough. And to be honest with you, I would have been more than happy to just have had the pleasure of building the model itself.
I had to pretty much hold myself back from not working on the model without him. Otherwise I would have had this thing done in a few days. It was absolute torture for me. But since my reputation was not on the line, I had to just bide my time and wait.

One of the cool things Mr. Lawler did for us was to provide us with the actual squadron pin from his buddy, ( without him noticing of course) so that we would have an idea of how to paint the insignia on the side of the plane. I also did my part by digging up pictures from the library so that we would know how to paint the camouflage scheme.
So between my brother and I,... we finished it, ...and did a really top notch job. Mr Lawler was pleased and thanked us both, of course only my brother got paid! But I didn't mind, for me the reward was in the building of it.

Shortly after the New Year, Mr. Lawler, stopped by our house to drop off an envelope. In side were two photos of Mr. Lawler's friend holding the model in his hands. His friend inscribed the front and autographed the back of each photo, thanking my brother and I for our beautiful handiwork. I thought it was very nice of him.

As with most things, you tend to forget them, with the passing of time, and in some cases fail to realize the significance of them until it is too late! This be came foremost in my mind many years later.....

In 1989 I was sitting in my first apartment with my room mate, and we were watching some cable TV. The program in question was World At War. The episode we were viewing was on WWI Flying Aces and aerial combat. During the program they started to talk about a man named Capt. Arthur Raymond Brooks. This for some reason got me thinking. I immediately got up and left the room and began looking through my things.

A few moments later I emerged with the photo, and wouldn't you know it, the man in the picture was Arthur Raymond Brooks. I was completely in awe of this, and how I had just realized my tiny brush with glory! So I thought this was too cool. I had a photo of a guy who flew planes in WWI. Of course keeping in mind, I missed the whole program, because as soon as I heard his name, I was off in search of the photo.

Nine years later, (2008) I am sitting in my present day apartment, watching one of my favorite TV shows ( Dogfights) really cool program if you get the chance. History Channel does a series of these, using 3-D animation to reconstruct aerial combat. And of course for the sake of this tale, they are doing an episode on WWI Flying Aces. They even devoted a whole twenty minutes to my man, Capt. Arthur Raymond Brooks.

And not unlike the Hollywood movies, this man went up against eight opponents, (German pilots in Fokker D-7's) single handed, with his plane riddled with bullets, only one gun working, and not a friend in sight. He managed to shoot down four of the enemy planes and live to tell the tale.


Through out the years I have done a lot of research and have learned many things in my studies, as to what these daring young men in their flying machines were up against.

For starters your are in a flimsy machine, that is constructed out of wood and canvas. You are strapped into a cockpit atop of a 20 gallon fuel tank. And if that wasn't enough, there was no room for you to have a parachute. If the plane went down, you simply rode it into the ground.

They did however as a small courtesy issue each pilot a revolver, so they could spare themselves the agony of burning alive in the crash. Oddly enough there were several accounts where pilots used these to shoot at the enemy when their guns were empty.

But the biggest threat to these young pilots beyond enemy fire, was that often enough the engines would fail, or the plane would catch on fire, or simple just come apart in mid-air. Not to mention you are flying high up in the sky in an open cockpit with no heat, where the temperatures are freezing. which tended to make the machine guns jam, and if the cold didn't do it, bent bullets would render the guns useless.

It takes a certain kind of individual to volunteer to go up in one of these contraptions and risk being shot out of the sky. But many men did, and very few of them survived the war.


Now as a grown man, I look back at rather unfortunate missed opportunity. Mr. Brooks lived only 15 miles or so from where I grew up and he lived a long life. He died in 1991. Had I known this then, I am most certain I would have tried to track him down. And I would have just sat at his feet like a little kid in front of a living legend, listening to tales of what it was like to have survived through all of those circumstances.

But I console myself with the fact, that I was able give something back to a man who risked his life to serve his country! And the fact that I have a signed photograph with his thanks!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Born Under A Big Black Woman

I have been thinking of late, about a book I started ages ago. An autobiographical tale of my dysfunctional life. I have tried going back to what I already written, which is about five chapters of some semi-useful stuff. I say semi-useful because I will inevitably have to go back and re-work most of it.

It started out being sort of first person retrospective that got rather whiny quickly! But having discussed much of my life recently with some friends, I began to remember some rather absurd stories about my life.

I used to joke around about my life being stamped with a bit of the "messiah complex" because the first words uttered by my dear old dad when he found out my mother was pregnant with me, was.... "Jesus Christ!!!"

And much of my life has been filled with far greater indignities. Things a person just should not have to deal with in their lives. Like the tale I already have posted on my website, " What's in a name?" The saga about my struggle for my personal identity at the age of five. It's a good read if ya get the chance.

But it got me thinking about how much my life has been affected by two popular sayings. The first being, " May you be born in interesting times!" Which is sort of a Chinese curse meaning the rest of your life will be unconventional,and it will be entertaining. And the other one which is just a great line from many R&B songs, " Being born under a bad sign". Which basically means that your life will be an uphill struggle!.

My mom had told me the tale about my birth. I was the last of four children and the biggest one she carried. Which turns out was a good thing. I was also the easiest for her, as she more or less had me on the way to the hospital.

Well, .... not exactly, but she was crowning in the waiting room. And upon hearing that this was occurring, a large black nurse tried to sit on my mother's lap. I gather she thought this would keep her from having me then and there. I can appreciate that they just were not ready for her, but damn.... from my perspective that is a pretty rude first introduction to the world. Not even out of the womb yet, and someone is objecting to me being born!

But I survived and moved on to bigger and better catastrophes. The rest is sort of what I am working on, a saga comprised of stories of epic and unbelievable proportions that makes up my life. And I am still alive to tell it, which is an amazing fact in itself. Now I have to start writing these little gems all down, and putting them into some coherent order, and then deciding if there is even a point to it all?

More than likely it will just be a comical tale, that others can read to feel better about their own lives! As long as I get a laugh, and a few royalty checks!

Entering the Blog of Eternal Stench


Greetings one and all taking my first baby steps in the world of blogging! Yes, (gasp) I am a virgin blogger. But have been filling the internet with my random thoughts and non sequiturs for ages.

I guess I have been reluctant because having one of these. It is like raising a child, ya neglect it too much and it dies! Too many spider plants still haunt me to this day! And maybe the occasional goldfish. Not trying to say I am a Black Hole Nurturer, but my mind tends to wander towards different things on any given day... at any given moment. I am quite tangentical! ( Meaning my mind likes to go in several directions at once.) And yes,.....it gets a bit confusing at times. Trying to remember where you were going, and where you have been. But quite often, it usually is a bit of fun. So remember to take pictures! Sometimes you need them for future reference and evidence! ;)

So hold on tight, and let's see where this things goes......