Most Commented Art Blogs (253)

I have not always liked reading books. I don't know why but I suspect that it was like everything else when I was young. I didn't care to. I just liked sports and band where I played the drums! Homework could always be done another day.

I grew up, went to college and when I got married, to a Hungarian girl, she was an English major and she loved to read. She read and read and read. One book in particular, "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair, was an assignment and she was really getting into it. She smiled as she spoke about it but she didn't in great detail. She merely told me it was about the meat packing industry way back when and how unclean it was.

It got me interested but I never bothered to read it. As I have grown older I have started to read more and this book is one of them. I'm barely in the first chapter and I really like it. The author describes how he came about picking this subject.

It seems the author came upon a wedding and he just walked into the hall to join the festivities. They were a Lithuanian family and friends that worked in the meat processing plant that was the subject of the book. Many of the men, in their drunkenness, began to tell the author the horror stories and that's how the book took off!

I began to think about my ex-wife and her facial expression, she was smiling and appeared to be deep in thought as she told me about the book, and that always made me wonder why and what! I mean, this was 55 years ago. Her smile. Why would I even dwell upon it? Then it hit me. She was probably reminiscing about her own family life in Hungary before the Russian invasion made the family flee. How they celebrated weddings could have been the reason for the smile and pensive mood. Upton Sinclair even gave me a warm feeling because I could see a lot of Hispanic "mood" in such festivities.

Hee Hee! Naw, it's not a matter that's so important but it's still kinda neat to look back and think about happy thoughts.

Well! Back to the book!

why do ladys love candles so much I make candles my self just like to know what women like in there candles

Just you and me
How Do I Love Thee?
my love is deeper than sea,
I love thee purely
Smiles, tears, and give you all myself,
Long have I searched
Finally I have found you,
why is it hard for you to believe it?
you had the key in you
Key To My Heart,
you came into my life and
made me change my mind
I want you
to be happy
always, ever holding your hands with mine,
I feel like
the happiest
person in this world just standing next to you .............written by me....

One of my favorite artist is Vincent Van Gogh,I love Hus work
My favorite pinchpinching his this night stars in which I have a print of.another one of my favorite is cafe terrace at night.I also have this one.I'm looking forward to collecting more.
I love the colors in his paintings.

Around the middle of next month or the end of December not sure which a book with some of my poetry and several different authors will be published to help support the fight against cancer in children the proceeds will go to TLWGO a charity that will help with medical bills and treatment of affected children as soon as the title and all are finalized I will post a blog letting everyone know just in case you wish to own a copy or know someone that would want a copy and I will include a link to let you order the book also this is the best Christmas present I have ever received knowing I made even a small difference

Golden tears upon a golden place my spirit has left this restless place,


And I was a man labeled a pure disgrace 99 lashes tie him down well he's in hell now,


Feeling it now......


Tieing a story to true love's glory but that's a fairytale my friend's and then tear's run down your face like ice like 99 Stabbing blade's with Differnt clour's from a purple haze,


with leaves me with just a few word's to say's are we really ment to be guessing for the rest of our day's.

When I get dressed up in my superman cape and shorty short shorts, and then I catch the bus. When I sit on the back seat like the bad boys, a strange phenomena happens. As the bus takes a sharp left hand turn, my right testicle escapes from its rightful place, whereas when the bus turns right its my left testicle causing heaps of dramas. I have thought about catching the bus which goes straight down the motorway, but I prefer the scenic route. I'm just so confused right now.

Stand on your box and write complete sentences. Try to incorporate more letters than punctuation marks

Day 11th:
f*ck! What I am trying to prove is that through my intentions I am creating angels, messiahs and prophets. Isn't that better than living an empty life? Isn't that better than settling for what you have? Why do you think you were so drawn to that boring life? You aren't human if you do that.....either am I. Yeah, I never EVER second guess my heart. Everyday is better than the next. I have no addictions and there is nothing I can't do. I want nothing but I try to achieve the impossible. Yeah, I want nothing at all. That's amazing.

***********************

Saturday:
This astonishing four-year scandinavian pilgrimage has been littered with sleeping pills, lots of fun, dehydration, mental breakdown and three-month MacDonald's binges. Now, somewhere over the rainbow, the world belongs to me. For the second time, the full tale of my journey from trauma to personal triumph starts all over again. WHAT THE f*ck.

I can't just stand still like the rest of the people, looking at all the lights, and thinking to themselves that out of those millions of lights, not one of them knows them and we're just f*cking rotting away doing nothing.

The resulting stories of these travels have become the stuff of my folklore. Stuff that happened, you know? Me spinning a hire car in circles on the lawn until the wheels came off. My friends having six-hour haircut marathons. Me disappearing for five days. My mate chucking a chair through a plate-glass window in glee when we all left for breakfast at five in the morning, immediately after I opened up the car door, the whole experience, was really insane in ways that only good friends, bad booze and mixed emotions can make.

I'd come to a point where it wasn't one hundred percent, and I think without going through a bit of trauma, I wouldn't have what I've got now...which is special.

...there's no way you can stop dead. That's an impossibility, actually. So the reason things happened the way they did was because they had to happen that way. I had to go to those places, and I had to go and be myself because I don't know how to do anything else.
Armed with my share of craziness, I treated myself, initiating "the most ridiculously indulgent, decadent three months", which amounted to a takeaway delivery of MacCombos every day until the money ran out.

---

UPDATE:!
The other day, I was walking past this cheap furniture store, and I was questioning why, why is the furniture so shit? You can design something of beauty with cheap materials. It's almost like people giving in - it's like, 'Oh, they don't have any money - f*ck 'em! Just give 'em that shit-designed thing there. That'll do for 'em, 'cause they can't buy anything else.'
And that whole philosophy has crept into everything we do now.

But you know, people always say about me that I take the difficult route around everything.

Eh, maybe that's because I'm still looking, I'm still searching, I'm not putting a full stop on the end of it. There is no full stop. There is no end. That's the beauty of it :)
But all this has been achieved at some cost, I have endured enormous tension; I have smashed up hotels, shattered relationships and tried fearsome experiments with northern places.

The title is a musical phrase my nephew uses when he jams with all his childhood buddies. He's lived in Pasadena, CA all his life (50+ years) in the Black neighborhood. The majority of his friends are Black and if you think you will never meet anyone famous your mistaken. His "playground" is full of musicians that boggles your mind!

All this conversation with my nephew came about when I told him that I had run into my old pal, Broken Fingers Malone" here in Bullhead City just recently. Broken Fingers and I jammed some 40 years ago in the La Puente/Pomona area of L. A. County. And I recounted this in an earlier blog titled "The Second Coming of Broken Fingers Malone".

Our memories go way back to a time when R&B and Soul was the music. I'm talking Otis Redding, James Brown and the likes of Carlos Santana. These were the tunes and bands of choice to play in clubs. We had a great band and we were once scouted by an agent that walked into this club we were playing and wanted to sign us to a contract to play in Las Vegas in the casino lounges. It was never to be.

My conversation with Broken Fingers was a kinda loose plan to "get together"!! Two days later I got a call from my pal and we jammed together that Saturday night. His talent centered around a Gibson electric acoustic guitar. When I arrived at his "pad" I walk into his studio and there was the old guitar of long ago. I looked at it and remembered. They were the thoughts of an old man playing music in the past and encountering the musical instrument that spawned those great memories.

Broken Fingers new talent was now his keyboard. He sat down and started doing some original compositions. They were what I always loved. Latin Jazz fusion. It was like meeting an old date. An old love, as it were. Broken Fingers talents have always amazed me. We cruised into a soiree just like old times. I swear it seemed like 1966 popped into his studio and our brains and bodies shifted to 25 y. o. once again. It was worthy of a Ray Bradbury short story where that stuff happens.

The night was filled with soft boleros that just seemed to make our hands glide on the piano keys and the congas. The congas I used that night were Jazz LP congas. The kind Louis Conte uses. Hey, I thought I sounded like Louis Conte. And it was like the 40 years that escaped from our music pal life suddenly rushed in. It was like it was never gone.

I mean, what are the chances that your going to run into a friend 40 years later in a remote area of Arizona where the the lizards are kept busy escaping Road Runners and the Colorado River swiftly sails by in a trance like swiftness cool and astoundingly clear.

We will jam again tomorrow night and a report will come forthwith!