Only small changes...but needed ones I think.
Dormant Memories Restored by Determination
I sat.
In a valley just over the mountains.
A dry valley with one small river running through it strait from the tallest mountain.
The glistening water just north of me was the only sign of life.
The only sign of hope for the dry valley.
I looked.
At the desolate cemetery.
A cemetery in the center of the dry valley just to the south of the tallest mountain.
The large monument of the cemetery was the only sign of humanity.
The only tall place for the dry valley.
I sat.
I sat on a rock just to the left of the monument.
Looking right at the river of hope.
The glistening water was gone.
Only the monument stood; a memory of misery.
I stood.
I walked away toward the south where more nothingness lay.
CLAP CLAP CLAP just like thunder came from the north.
I looked back a the river; at hope…as I looked the river seemed to drift farther away.
CLAP CLAP CLAP
I heard.
I heard the clapping.
Louder, closer CLAP CLAP CLAP; the march of thousands of people.
The northern sky grew dark; the monument grew taller to reach the heavens; the mountain erupted in fiery anger lighting the entire valley in flame.
A crash like waves of the ocean filled the air; the voices of thousands of people who in unison proclaimed:
“Do you know me?
I am you. The you you never knew.
I am the embodiment of all you hatred; of all you fear; of all you suffering.
I am your reflection; your fellow self!
We’ve met; we’ve met many times.
You never saw me though; you were to blinded by your selfishness.
You were to afraid to open your eyes to reality!
You never once took the time to clear your mind; to see me for who I really am!
I am the one who has been beaten by prejudice.
I am the wrongfully imprisoned.
I am the one who’s family was separated and taken away.
I am the one you fear out of your own ignorance and stupidity!
You always hurt me; you have never loved me!
And in your arrogance you never acknowledged that you were hurting yourself!
You never acknowledged it, but some where you knew your crimes.
Look! Look at that monument! That is your self-hate! Your guilt!
Do you know what I stand for?
Do you know my story of misery?
Do you have the slightest clue of what you have done to me?
DO YOU CARE THAT YOU ARE LOOKING IN A MIRROR AT YOURSELF AS WELL?
I AM HUMANITY!
I AM ALL THOSE WHO HAVE EVER BEEN HATED; WHO HAVE EVER BEEN PERSECUTED; WHO HAVE EVER BEEN DISCRIMINATED AGAINST!
I AM ALL WHO HAVE CRIED UPON DEAF EARS!
I AM EVERYONE INCLUDING YOURSELF!
EVERYONE!
LOOK AT THE MIRROR YOU FOOLS!
YOU’RE SUFFERING TOO!
EVERY TIME YOU PERSECUTE ME YOU STAB YOURSELF !
LOOK AT THE REALITY OF YOU CRIMES!
LOOK AT IT!
LOOK AT IT!
LOOK AT IT!
TRUTH!
YOUR FEAR BLINDS YOU!
DON’T BE A FOOL AVOIDING THE TRUTH!
LOOK AT IT!”
(CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP clap clap clap tap…tap…tap tap tap…)
I felt.
The gentle touch of rain.
Cool rain that quenched the fires of the mountain; that returned the monument back to its original hieght.
Light broke through the clouded skies.
The river flowed with water again.
The valley spouted plants.
Tall mighty trees grew along the banks of the river.
Flowers grew around the monument.
All was green in the valley.
The valley lived, filled with restored knowledge.
I turned southward again; and started walking toward possible nothingness.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Draft...or maybe final
Dormant Memories Restored by Determination
I sat.
In a valley just over the mountains.
A dry valley with one small river running through it strait from the tallest mountain.
The glistening water just north of me was the only sign of life.
The only sign of hope for the dry valley.
I looked.
At the desolate cemetery.
A cemetery in the center of the dry valley just to the south of the tallest mountain.
The large monument of the cemetery was the only sign of humanity.
The only tall place for the dry valley.
I sat.
I sat on a rock just to the left of the monument.
Looking right at the river of hope.
The glistening water was gone.
Only the monument stood; a memory of misery.
I stood.
I walked away toward the south where more nothingness lay.
CLAP CLAP CLAP just like thunder came from the north.
I looked back a the river; at hope…as I looked the river seemed to drift farther away.
CLAP CLAP CLAP
I heard.
I heard the clapping.
Louder, closer CLAP CLAP CLAP; the march of thousands of people.
The northern sky grew dark; the monument grew taller to reach the heavens; the mountain erupted in fiery anger lighting the entire valley in flame.
A crash like waves of the ocean filled the air; the voices of thousands of people who in unison proclaimed:
“Do you know me?
I am you. The you you never knew.
I am the embodiment of all you hatred; of all you fear; of all you suffering.
I am your reflection; your fellow self!
We’ve met; we’ve met many times.
You never saw me though; you were to blinded by your selfishness.
You were to afraid to open your eyes to reality!
You never once took the time to clear your mind; to see me for who I really am!
I am the one who has been beaten by prejudice.
I am the wrongfully imprisoned.
I am the person you ignored when I needed comfort the most!
I am the one you fear out of your own ignorance and stupidity!
You always hurt me; you have never loved me!
And in your arrogance you never acknowledged that you were hurting yourself!
You never acknowledged it, but some where you knew your crimes.
Look! Look at that monument! That is your self-hate! Your guilt!
Do you know what I stand for?
Do you know my story of misery?
Do you have the slightest clue of what you have done to me?
DO YOU CARE THAT YOU ARE LOOKING IN A MIRROR AT YOURSELF AS WELL?
I AM HUMANITY!
I AM ALL THOSE WHO HAVE EVER BEEN HATED; WHO HAVE EVER BEEN PERSECUTED; WHO HAVE EVER BEEN DISCRIMINATED AGAINST!
I AM ALL WHO HAVE CRIED UPON DEAF EARS!
I AM EVERYONE INCLUDING YOURSELF!
EVERYONE!
LOOK AT THE MIRROR YOU FOOLS!
YOU’RE SUFFERING TOO!
EVERY TIME YOU PERSECUTE ME YOU STAB YOURSELF !
LOOK AT THE REALITY OF YOU CRIMES!LOOK AT IT!
LOOK AT IT!
LOOK AT IT!
TRUTH!
YOUR FEAR BLINDS YOU!
DON’T BE A FOOL AVOIDING THE TRUTH!
LOOK AT IT!”
(CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP clap clap clap tap…tap…tap tap tap…)
I felt.
The gentle touch of rain.
Cool rain that quenched the fires of the mountain; that returned the monument back to its original hieght.
Light broke through the clouded skies.
The river flowed with water again.
The valley spouted plants.
Tall mighty trees grew along the banks of the river.
Flowers grew around the monument.
All was green in the valley.
The valley lived, filled with restored knowledge.
I turned southward; and started walking toward possible nothingness.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Manzanar
.....took a little trip today.I'll wright about it later..for now I'm really tired...
I will say: it was nice. I didn't even know this place existed until a few days ago......
Thursday, November 20, 2008
What Just Happened?
I know an old man…he is a friend of mine. Very recently..his little granddaughter was killed.
His “potential” “son-in-law” was babysitting for his daughter.
Sometime during the evening…he hit her head killing her.
She was only two
…
The little girls family decided to donate her organs for medical use (transplants and such).
Her little organs…were used and saved the lives of 5 other little children.
…
Typically I love irony……but I don’t know
His “potential” “son-in-law” was babysitting for his daughter.
Sometime during the evening…he hit her head killing her.
She was only two
…
The little girls family decided to donate her organs for medical use (transplants and such).
Her little organs…were used and saved the lives of 5 other little children.
…
Typically I love irony……but I don’t know
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Acorns
An oak tree. It’s a rather beautiful tree. Especially the incredibly old oak trees.
…yes it’s true, the old they become, the more gnarled they are….even so, they are beautiful nevertheless.
The funny thing…or perhaps interesting thing…is that these beautiful trees start from an acorn.
An acorn. It’s not very aesthetically pleasing. It’s small, bizarrely shaped, and is often eaten by some animal…not very majestic at all. However, the acorn has something going for it.
As soon as an acorn falls to the ground, it starts to bury itself into the earth. Some acorns are destroyed and crushed…but some survive and continue to grow.
But the acorn can’t just grow in any random way. For example: what would happen if it started to grow its trunk first with out any roots? The young tree would surely fall over.
No…the acorn sprouts roots first…roots that are strong and go deep into the earth. Once the seed is well grounded, a stem pierces through the surface. But even a young tree is not immune to dangers. Some are crushed or wither away. But still…some live on.
Yes…the survivors grow…become stronger…climb higher…dig deeper. Eventually…over time…an impressive, beautiful oak tree is present where an acorn once lay many years before.
An oak tree…just from one small acorn.
…perhaps acorns are majestic…
I like to think…that people are like acorns.
Haha, yes…just like little acorns.
Every one starts small…but people grow and develop over time.
Do not be afraid of being small. Take roots…learn…study….become knowledable. Do not be afraid to learn. Grow with each new idea…with each new thought. Grow with each step…with each flex of your muscles. Do not give up in the face of misery. I promise you…with time…you will be just as majestic as the mighty oak tree.
I live in a valley. In this valley…oak trees grow; the valley oaks. The oak trees here are protected by the state. One day (a few days ago) I was taking a walk and came across one of these oak trees. I sat under it and started thinking; looked down, and picked up an acorn…
…yes it’s true, the old they become, the more gnarled they are….even so, they are beautiful nevertheless.
The funny thing…or perhaps interesting thing…is that these beautiful trees start from an acorn.
An acorn. It’s not very aesthetically pleasing. It’s small, bizarrely shaped, and is often eaten by some animal…not very majestic at all. However, the acorn has something going for it.
As soon as an acorn falls to the ground, it starts to bury itself into the earth. Some acorns are destroyed and crushed…but some survive and continue to grow.
But the acorn can’t just grow in any random way. For example: what would happen if it started to grow its trunk first with out any roots? The young tree would surely fall over.
No…the acorn sprouts roots first…roots that are strong and go deep into the earth. Once the seed is well grounded, a stem pierces through the surface. But even a young tree is not immune to dangers. Some are crushed or wither away. But still…some live on.
Yes…the survivors grow…become stronger…climb higher…dig deeper. Eventually…over time…an impressive, beautiful oak tree is present where an acorn once lay many years before.
An oak tree…just from one small acorn.
…perhaps acorns are majestic…
I like to think…that people are like acorns.
Haha, yes…just like little acorns.
Every one starts small…but people grow and develop over time.
Do not be afraid of being small. Take roots…learn…study….become knowledable. Do not be afraid to learn. Grow with each new idea…with each new thought. Grow with each step…with each flex of your muscles. Do not give up in the face of misery. I promise you…with time…you will be just as majestic as the mighty oak tree.
I live in a valley. In this valley…oak trees grow; the valley oaks. The oak trees here are protected by the state. One day (a few days ago) I was taking a walk and came across one of these oak trees. I sat under it and started thinking; looked down, and picked up an acorn…
Thursday, November 13, 2008
It’s that time again
A friend from school asked me to design a logo for his band. “Axios Pharos” is the band name. Pharos was a light house constructed by Alexander the Great. So yeah an ancient lighthouse…easy enough to find references. Now what to sketch for “Axios”…I’ll have to do more research on the meaning of the word....
Steven
Eye Light
Watching him, is like watching someone running up the down esculator while mixing paints and eating breakfast. Yeah trippy. He is tall, very thin, has long brown hair, a scraggly beard, which he is very proud of, and he is always thinking of a hundred different things at once. He looks like a mop; a mop that has been used and turned upside down.
You can never understand Steven Garret just by looking at him; meaning you can not understand his thought process or his creative genius. You might think you understand him quickly because he is rather loud and seems to blurt out whatever come to his mind. However, that loud child-like figure is only one small side of Steven.
As soon as Steven picks up pastels or oil paints, he changes into a master worker. His expression and manner of speaking change and his blue eyes appear to radiate expressive light; when you see that light in his eyes, it is evident that his entire mind is active and focused. He creates images in his mind and makes tangible those images with his talented fingers and brush. Steadily, his work takes shape and his tense face relaxes; but his eyes still glow. After he is satisfied with his work, he reverts back to his oddball self, the side that fools everyone into thinking he has no purpose in life or practical talents.
For me, it is always a pleasure to be around Steven. He is most at home in art galleries, where he can display his work or look at the work of other local artists. Or at times he is tucked away somewhere isolated from other people. Why isolated? Haha, because he becomes easily irritated at the attitudes of most people. Where ever he may be, he is easy to spot; he towers above most everyone.
Steven is the most unique person I have ever met. Deep within his artistic, chaotic core, is a loving, caring friend. When I’m not feeling great, he is always available to help, always ready to talk and heal with words. And, when he is feeling crappy, he knows I’m around. We depend upon each other for comfort, and comedy relief. He is a bit strange at times, but perhaps being strange is merely a coping skill. We have done really ridiculous and pointless things together, like argue for hours over the difference between “brown” and “dark tan” or shouting out worthless nothings just to annoy people (annoy people, together we are good at that). It’s funny, he is the most unique person I have come across, and yet we are so much alike. He is by far one of the best and most trusted friends I have ever had.
Look around for him sometime; he and I will be laughing at something no one else gets. Jump in his truck for a ride; he will most likely take you on a Steve-tour (it’s like a detour only 200 times more rad). Or if you go to a art gallery, look for one of his paintings; they are kind of scary-looking. Who knows, he might just be there. Talk to him, he might actually talk back, depending on his mood of course. Observe and listen to him; you will start running up the down escalator with him. If Steven does not respond to you, or you feel that your conversation is going nowhere, hand him some paint and a brush, and as you do, look for a light in his eye. You will learn much more about Steven from that light than you ever will from words.
You can never understand Steven Garret just by looking at him; meaning you can not understand his thought process or his creative genius. You might think you understand him quickly because he is rather loud and seems to blurt out whatever come to his mind. However, that loud child-like figure is only one small side of Steven.
As soon as Steven picks up pastels or oil paints, he changes into a master worker. His expression and manner of speaking change and his blue eyes appear to radiate expressive light; when you see that light in his eyes, it is evident that his entire mind is active and focused. He creates images in his mind and makes tangible those images with his talented fingers and brush. Steadily, his work takes shape and his tense face relaxes; but his eyes still glow. After he is satisfied with his work, he reverts back to his oddball self, the side that fools everyone into thinking he has no purpose in life or practical talents.
For me, it is always a pleasure to be around Steven. He is most at home in art galleries, where he can display his work or look at the work of other local artists. Or at times he is tucked away somewhere isolated from other people. Why isolated? Haha, because he becomes easily irritated at the attitudes of most people. Where ever he may be, he is easy to spot; he towers above most everyone.
Steven is the most unique person I have ever met. Deep within his artistic, chaotic core, is a loving, caring friend. When I’m not feeling great, he is always available to help, always ready to talk and heal with words. And, when he is feeling crappy, he knows I’m around. We depend upon each other for comfort, and comedy relief. He is a bit strange at times, but perhaps being strange is merely a coping skill. We have done really ridiculous and pointless things together, like argue for hours over the difference between “brown” and “dark tan” or shouting out worthless nothings just to annoy people (annoy people, together we are good at that). It’s funny, he is the most unique person I have come across, and yet we are so much alike. He is by far one of the best and most trusted friends I have ever had.
Look around for him sometime; he and I will be laughing at something no one else gets. Jump in his truck for a ride; he will most likely take you on a Steve-tour (it’s like a detour only 200 times more rad). Or if you go to a art gallery, look for one of his paintings; they are kind of scary-looking. Who knows, he might just be there. Talk to him, he might actually talk back, depending on his mood of course. Observe and listen to him; you will start running up the down escalator with him. If Steven does not respond to you, or you feel that your conversation is going nowhere, hand him some paint and a brush, and as you do, look for a light in his eye. You will learn much more about Steven from that light than you ever will from words.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Amidst the chaos, a Joker appears
Alright, I decided to post something lighthearted: my current art project. Usually I would pick up my sketch pad and a few pencils…but this time I decided to try something new for me. A blade and colored paper. Yes, cutting paper of different colors to form an image. It’s a lot of fun; and it’s turning out better then I expected it to. I might try this technique again in the future…no I definitely will.…the only thing about paper cutting that I dislike, is using glue…it’s rather irritating.
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