I drew this up a couple weeks ago for my cousin Josh’s birthday. This is his daughter Emily Jacobs, what a cutee pie. I told him I was going to put this together 11 months ago, I guess I finally got around to it. Love it, hope he does too. Hi-five to family.Read more
Is Bankys Damien Hirst? Is Damien Hirst Banksy? Who cares, not I. But somebody does. CLICK HERE to read more about this blasphemy. Apparently your commercial real estate is shooting through if you just so happen to have an original Banksy piece on it. If you’re familiar with Banksy then you’ll understand when I say that “he’s probably rolling over laughing right now” at the ironic self-made name he’s created. Oh how the irony is overwhelming! Funny how this silly little world operates. It makes me chuckle inside. Anywho, Cheers to you sir. To read the rest of this ridiculously ironic story on of course, “YAHOO NEWS” CLICK HERE
It usually begins with a spark, an idea, a thought, a small vibration. Where it goes you never really quite know. Even If you find the courage to follow, you still never really know. But there is something truly magnificent about watching it grow, if I ever do. Sometimes you follow that vibration, sometimes you forget, and sometimes you just get preoccupied with the mundane task at hand, and then it all just slips away. “Write it down, no, too tired on this night”. If, and seldom do I, (which in turn tends to lead me astray) follow the vibration fully, I’ve found me along the way, and not you. If I encompass myself within it, there’s some kind of brilliance that squeezes through to the end. It always leads to something greater than I could have imagined. If, and seldom do I, follow the vibration, light shines through. It’s so hard though, to focus on the dreamer with all this squawking in my ear. So much to do, and not an ounce of time to spare. “Focus on the task at hand, that’s what I’d do”. But I am not you, at least I think not. And it keeps me from from the rhythm, the spiral. It keeps me focused on the material world, which means absolutely nothing to the being, but everything to the human, to you. What will become of me? Will this be my demise or my salvation? Liberate, liberate yourself and find that rhythm. Along the spiral that binds us all. The collective unconscious knows. Do you? Ramble, ramble, ramble; whatever will come of this blasphemy?
The devil once said that dreams are for the dreamers and salvation is for the weak. “Whatever does that mean”? Just some more squawking in my ear. Nothing makes a bit of sense to me, this much is certain. There’s something inside me that transcends into something I do not care to speak of: A vicious monster that cares nothing for the world before him. Perhaps this is the devil and so am I. Blasphemy? Always. Rubbish? Always. Liberate? Someday, if you just follow that damn vibration. But with so much confusion, clarity seems so far out of reach. At times, and very seldom, I find that abrupt moment of clarity. I have purpose and my so-called life has direction. But it’s always short lived. Never a lasting moment of definitive joy. Just blasphemy and rubbish. Mounds and mounds of dirt pile up as I fall ever deeper into the shit. The vibration is calling but it’s so distant, I hear only but a whisper. I can’t make it out and I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I know it’s there, waiting, patiently waiting for my return. Dig a little deeper you fool and you just might reach the bottom.