Thursday, December 31, 2009

2010: A Daily Routine of Success

In order to achieve 12-16 hours worth of productivity this does not mean I must be working a job for all of those hours, but it does mean I have to be contributing to the actualization of what is on my goals list in order to be productive. This will call for a strict regiment of discipline, focus, and excellent time management.
In a perfect world I will set out to start my day at 6 am and hopefully go to sleep at 10 pm which would give me 8 hours to sleep and 2 extra hours of my time to be unproductive.
Included in my 12-16 hours of productivity daily include anything that involves my time achieving goals. So, if reading classical literature helps me produce better novels then that is seen as productive use of my time. Travelling to and from work would also be included in my time. Any and all research time counts as well. Basically, anything that wastes my time by not furthering my goals or making money is unacceptable and deemed unproductive.
I have just bought a stopwatch which will remain on my person's at all time. My goal will be to be productive a minimum of 12 hours. If I should fall behind that. I will require myself to make it up another day. Or perhaps I will keep a weekly time sheet and any hours over 12 I will consider rollover time to cover under achieving days. Or days I go on vacation. One can never tell what the upcoming year will provide in my randomness of life events. Prepare for the unpreparable. That's my philosophy.

Here are some things that I will have to do daily.

- Exercise (yoga, lifting weights, or cardio)
- one 30 minute Mandarin Lesson Daily
- Daily Blog entry.
- Some sort of writing (research, poetry, illustrations, or reading)

These are the four essential things that I MUST do everyday... No If's, and's, or but's.

2010: New Year's Eve Final List

This is the final list of goals I will hopefully achieve in the upcoming year. I plan on spending 12-16 hours a day being productive, 7 days a week ( with maybe a few lapses a month, but not too many). If I achieve this goal I should have no problem fulfilling all my goals. Thus, thrusting me into the realm of success. If by the end of 2010 I am not as successful as I wish then I will have no other option, but to give up, throw in the towel, and get on welfare. I do not see this happening as I am not one for charity.
So, without further delay here is my list of impossible possibilities.

- Get Driver's License
- Get a job
- Study my Mandarin Lessons everyday
- Exercise Daily
- Update Blog Daily
- Be productive 12-16 hours a day, 7 days a week.
- Get Passport
- Take World Exploring Seminar.
- Register UMC Studios as an LLC
- Have an art show in Chicago
- Have an art show in New York
X- Get more business cards
- Create "The 3 Goldie locks" series sculptures... ( top secret)
- Write and illustrate The Fortune Cookie Diaries
- Illustrate & Publish Where's My Sock
- Write Children's Novel The Never Ending Escalator Adventure
- Revise and Publish 3rd Shift Epiphanies: Chronicles of a Gas Attendant
X- Submit screen play to literary agency
X- Revise and publish second edition of Picasso's Marauders
- Write Top Secret Novel Trilogy (or at least the first installment)
- Write and illustrate Silverstein-esque large book of poetry for children
- Illustrate Mr. Morton's children's book Tommy the Toon from Brigadoon
- African mask back tattoo
- LAST, BUT NOT LEAST, either buy a ticket to begin my world tour or plan on moving to NYC

This is all I wish to accomplish this year. If I achieve these goals I will be overwhelmed with joy and happiness. May nothing detour me from these goals. May my mind fill with discipline and my body rise with energy.
I declare this my year. The Year of Determination... The Year of Success. The Year which any and all is possible. No more dreams and wishes. Only reality and aggressive pursuit of what I can righteously achieve.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

2010 Creative goals:

- Revise Picasso's Marauders
- Write novel trilogy... Can't disclose any more info at the time ( top secret )
- Write and Illustrate Children's Book The Never Ending Escalator Adventure
- Illustrate children's book Where's my Sock?
- Illustrate Tommy the Toon from Brigadoon
- Write children's poetry book ( Silverstein style )
- Write and Illustrate The Fortune Cookie Diaries
- Revise 3rd Shift Epiphanies: Chronicles of a Gas Attendant

I think as far as writing goes that should keep me busy for 2010. My goal is to see how much I can write in one year. If I can stay on pace with what I did in 2009 I should be able to complete at least 50% of that. I want to at least complete everything except for possibly the second two novels in the trilogy. Since I know what the first is somewhat. I think this to be a realistic goal... Kind of.
2009 I wrote a screenplay in about ten days, but it took a month if you count from conception to the final draft. Then I wrote Picasso's Marauders in about a month with revisions, but honestly I know it needs a professional editor. So for now take it as is. It's the best I can do. I will get better. I just have to keep writing until I get to where I want to be much like my art. Although that took me twenty five years to get to where I want to be. So I am going to try and speed up my writing development by pumping out as many novels, poetry, and children's books as humanly possible.
If all my writing goals are achieved I will be thoroughly impressed. I will have completed 3 adult novels, 1 children's novel, 1 large collection of children's poetry, 3 children's books, 2 poetry books, and 1 revised novel. That is 11 books in all. I don't think I am up to the challenge, but I will try.
It already feels like I am out of time and the year has yet to begin. I never understood why I am so ambitious. Especially towards things that seem to have no benefit, except only to cause myself stress and strain. Oh well, guess I just like being miserable. It could be worse... I could like watching American Idol, or be a Dancing with the Stars fanatic... Pointless... Worthless... I'd rather learn Mandarin.
Only two more days left and the madness begins.

More Goals for 2010

- Create the Electric Sculptures. (top secret) a his and her's for children
- write a collection of children's poetry ( Silverstein-esque)
- Write children's fantasy novel ( The Never Ever Ending Escalator Adventure)
- Illustrate Mr. Morton( like salt) children's story
- write and illustrate Where's my Sock?
- Revise and Publish 3rd Shift Epiphanies: Chronicles of a gas attendant.

I think this should be enough to keep me busy for a year. I think my goal is to work 12- 16 hours 5 days a week. Monday- Friday. This most likely will consist of eight hours of those days at a jobby type J.O.B. The other 40 8 hours will consist of me working on my own creative project goals with an hour of that dedicated to fitness and a half hour dedicated daily to learning Mandarin. If I can achieve all the goals set out for me this upcoming year I should be a spectacularly different person... In a good way. An awesome person that can conquer the world. If I can achieve 50% of what is going to be on this ultimate "to do" list. I will have no option ,but to be successful. And if not, my reward will be to go on the adventure of a life time exploring the world. Not a bad consolation prize. If I succeed and actually turn out to be successful then who knows what madness will ensue. As I am not one used to the riches of success. Maybe I will take a nap and eat a Dairy Queen ice cream cake. That sounds pretty awesome to me.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

The Possible 2010 New Year List of Goals

1- Get Driver's License
2- Start Daily Mandarin Lessons again
3- Revise Picasso's Novel and submit final publication
4- Write Novel Trilogy ( can't be anymore specific do to secrecy sworn)
5- maintain daily blog entries
6- Get a crappy job for the year
7- Get Passport
8- Make plans to leave the country and explore the world by october 2010.
9- Art show in New York
10- Art Show in Chicago
11- Submit Screen play to Literary Agency
12- Take World Explorer training class (top secret)

That is it for right now... More will be added and final list will be submitted for January 1st, 2010

Merry Christmas

It's been awhile. Not that anybody has noticed, but things have been a brewing and I ain't talking about eggnog and cookies.
Having made it through one of the worst years of my life, possibly the worst decade of my life I am ready for yet another new beginning.
Of the worst events to happen this year in my life include losing my AWESOME gas station job in hopes of higher employment, only to lose my potential job and being accused of being a convicted felon amongst other things. I also almost had a dog die on me while house sitting as of no fault of my own. Completely lost my faith as an artist finally giving up entirely on a life long career and dream. Found myself in debts that I did not accrue causing a bank account to implode upon itself. I was robbed at gun point my a fully authentic replica AK-47 while visiting friends in Savannah. The punks made off with my wallet luckily containing my birth certificate, social security card, atm card, and business debt card. They also took my McDonald's as well. I lost the opportunity of living in a condo and had to move back in my mom and her boyfriend in the middle of nowhere. I had numerous art deals gone wrong causing my major financial woes and losses of said pieces do to deliquent buyers (who basically own pieces without paying me). My website has been off for 8 months, but I am glad to say will be back up as of the new year.
Now, for the good that has come out of all this calamity. There mus be some good right? That is what I am always looking for since apparently my life is cursed with horrible luck.
Since I have given up on art, or rather art has given up on me. Then again maybe the feelings are mutual. We can agree on that. I have been pursuing the word. During the month of November I participated NANOWRIMO , which consists of writing at least a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. Mine was almost 70,000 in 25 days. It is called Picasso's Marauders and is available on Amazon.com or on the links page of my website. I will also begin writing a second novel which I will tell you about later.
In the next couple of days I will be developing my plan my for the new year. They are not going to be resolutions because I do not believe in making a list of things I plan on resolving, but rather making a list of goals I plan on achieving. The list will be long and ambitious and I plan on doing all that is on the list. 2010 will be my year. Finally. The year of Marcus. The year of the Urban Monk. The year of the creative, ambitious, goal oriented blitzkrieg. So be prepared... Circle the wagons... I've licked my wounds. Picked my boot straps up... Got my head held high... I am reaching past the sky, beyond the stars, and am going to shine hotter and brighter than the sun...
It is time...

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Dates & Places I want to vist in late 2010-2011

(in no specific order)

- Running of the bulls: Paplona, Spain July 6th -14th

-Canibus Cup: Amsterdam same week as Thanksgiving

Friday, October 16, 2009

R.I.P. Post Modern Barbequeism

Well, today is the day. My moment of reckoning. I will go back to my place of living and begin to pack up my art supplies. It is truly a sad day, but at the same time it is kind of empowering. I don't like the ways it's going down, but I guess it's the way it's going to have to be.

I suppose when people give up on a dream it is never the way the intend on it going down. Dreams are never gradually sort of let go. They seem to always be crushed unrelentingly by the realities of a suck-type of linear concrete world. Never a good place for original thought provoking ideas to flourish.

Now-a-days it seems that it is harder and harder to have, keep, and maintain a dream. There are so many people out there that wish for other's failure and are quick to dismiss another's
ideas it is truly a sad state of affairs. Many people out there truly wish to believe in the pursuit of one's dreams, but the more and more I start to realize is that most people don't have dreams or gave up on them long, long ago. Maybe I should just be satisfied that I have gotten to try and live out my dream for as long as I have. It has been a fun ride, but like all things that are fun it must come to an end. And my end is near. Time to get up, get out, and give up on dreams.

Most people's dreams never come true, while most people never even have the chance to have an idea. I am not talking about winning the lottery or being the world's best basketball player. For the majority of the world these are not only dreams, but fantasy of an unrealistic nature.

This is why I at an early age I decided to set a realistic and obtainable dream. That of becoming an artist. Not the next Da Vinci, or Picasso. I didn't wish to sell million dollar paintings, but instead my dream was to make enough money eventually to keep myself in existence. Enough to pay for the bare necessities. Food, shelter, clothing, and art supplies. Nothing more and not in that particular order. I could do without the luxury items such as anything else. A car, a computer, a girlfriend, furniture. sometimes a bed. I figured that with all these sacrifices and by throwing myself into the proverbial fire I may to be able to join the ranks of a professional artist that survives of their craft. False.

This in hindsight was a poorly formulated idea. After ten years of struggle the economic strangle hold these modern times has been too much to withstand. The only way I see myself being pulled back into art is with the acquisition of my works. Which after staring at my works for the last decade or so I don't see this happening. The previous times I declared my break-up with art there was always something to pull me back in.

This time there is nothing.

Hope is gone.

Pessimism and cynicism are my new positivity towards the art world. Not against other artist or the institution of art, but rather just in general. The idea of art has worn itself out. I don't know exactly what I mean by that, but that is exactly what mean. No other way to describe it.

Normally people just say that's it. I'm done . This sucks. I quit! However, I am not most normal people. I felt propelled to declare my ending of art exploration in some form. And much like my art I have found no or very few respondents. Which is all the more justification for my putting an end to this era of my life. I would call people to notify them, but that seems a little more like looking for pity and that is not what this is about. I have chosen to write this through my blog

1) Because no one reads it anyway.

2) I will have something to go back to visually that will remind me if I ever do get the urge to start making art again. Help remind me what a mistake that venture was.

I honestly feel that I must give a scathing critique of my artistic career in order to truly appreciate how much of a failure it has been along with a drain on my quality of life. Art did open my world up to new experiences both good and bad although anything one does opens you up to new people and situations.

The more I think about it the more excited I get about packing up my failures and putting them in storage. Maybe it's like an investment. When I grow older and finally own a home. I'll have all this awesome art by some nameless nobody that no one knows. I can have my own home with truly one of a kind art. And I'll know this without a doubt because no one has bought anything.

So in concluding, I'll just say this follow your dreams, to a certain point. Don't do what I did or the lemmings and get one idea in your head and follow it until you soon realize that your plummetting to your own demise and it's too late to stop. I guess though in reality following one's dreams until thirty isn't too bad. There is still time to lick the wounds and give life another go.

So I guess what I am really saying to all those who actually do have the balls to follow your dreams don't give up until you've exhausted every last resource or your thirty years old. Which ever falls last. If you haven't succeeded by then... I say give up. Quit. You have my permission. You fought the good fight, but you lost. At least no one can say you didn't try.

The day my art died.

Nothing sentimental. No love lost, only bitterness with a slight tinge of defeat.

There was no bigger dream I had as a child than becoming an artist. This dream started when I was six and I have continued it into an almost full blown reality almost a quarter of a century later. But with something that I once loved soon became tedious. Then became monotonous. Now I just wish it to be over.

I am not a quitter, nor have I ever been. I pride myself on being able to follow through on my ambitions, but this has turned into a death march. I can no longer allow myself to do this. It is with great pain that tomorrow I will begin packing all of my art supplies up with no intention of when or if I am ever going to unpack them. People that know me say I have said this before, but things are different now. I have found a new muse. Which is why I haven't been able to kick the habit before. Art was always my escape. although now looking back on it, it seems more like a prison cell.

Art has kept me at a level in life below satisfactory. I always thought this was okay because I always thought an artist was supposed to suffer. It gave a sort of nobility to my poorness. Which not many careers do.

I never really understood why I did art. I just did it to get the ideas in to reality and it turns out I was good at it. But, being good isn't good enough. Being ambitious isn't good enough. Exhausting every last resource and fund isn't good enough. I took a crap shoot and lost. I figured if I used every waking moment of my life to further myself as an artist since pretty much birth that would have some worth in my success as an artist. However, I have come to find out the hard way that doesn't matter.

In my lack of success in art I have no one to blame,but myself which is the hardest part of this majorly unacceptable failure. It is something that I have done wrong. The only problem is I don't know what. I am no longer willing to just slave away on products that go nowhere. It is too creatively exhausting.

I weigh this decision heavily because I know the state of my mental health is not going to fair so well. Hopefully writing will fill the void.

This is definitely one of the most painful decisions I have had to make, but I cannot watch as my art dies a slow horrible death with zero audience and it's screams of beauty falling on ignorantly deaf ears. I wanted to be an artist to show the world some grandiose idea that things are beautiful blah, blah, blah... That was many a year ago, probably more than a decade or so. This last ten years it has been a war. The War of ART.

I have been forcibly trying to get my art out. Anywhere. Everywhere. North. South. East coast. And I have lost on every front. Every battle was a notorious defeat. I always tried to pull some positive out of it. I cannot do it any more. I don't want to talk about art. I don't want to see it. I just don't care anymore.

I used to say I was married to my art. I guess it's time for divorce court. Good ridden, farewell. I am sad to see a part of me go. A big part of me, but all the same my art had almost become cancerous.

I can't blame everything on art, but you know what I am going to. After investing so much for so many years I definitely feel burned. The career I chose and strive to succeed simply didn't have that same plan in mind for me. All the time, all the money. Now is that exact moment where I either cut off the losses or go down with the ship and I have been going down ever since the ship set sail.

I can't say what is in store for the future of my art career if there is one, but what I can say is for now I am done. I will keep one sketch book in which I will write all my ideas of art in just in case I do decide to pursue it again.

Just like I predicted one main reason I did not want to come back to Ohio was because I feared there might be catastrophic repercussions. Which is what precisely happened. Creative people as well as famous people go to Ohio to be forgotten. Thus, my art is forgotten. It does bring my career full circle though. I was born an artist in Ohio and now I get to watch my art die in Ohio.

After twenty four years of building my body as a vessel for creative energy that flowed into my work. Within a dismal two years of living in Ohio my love and aspirations in the field of visual arts has successfully and systematically been extinguished. I am no longer the person I once was. Something has changed. I have changed. There is no rebirth. Only regret that I may have wasted the last ten years of my life in pursuit of the unobtainable, at least for me.

The one thing that may have led to my demise, might be the one thing I had no control over. Luck. I tried to make my own, but for being born on friday the 13th maybe it just wasn't in the cards for me.

One redeeming aspect of this whole ordeal is that at least I never ever really, truly succeeded. This would be even harder to deal with if I had to deal with my short comings of success. I did on the other hand remain a consistently unsuccessful and an utter failure. This I can be proud of. There is something to be said about consistency.

So now what?

I don't know.

I have just thrown out the window all that I know and all that I am.

So, now... What am I? Or rather what do I want to be is the question.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Ready for a change...

Done with Ohio. The same old routines everyday much the same. Wake up. Two oranges, two apple skins, 25 green grapes, strawberries, blue berries, black berries, cantaloupe, and walnuts. sometimes the fruit varies, but it always is two oranges and two apple skins with walnuts.

Then I hit the gym. Either legs, chest, or arms. Then a half hour of Mandarin. Always the same ol' same ol'. take a shower. Do art until night. Nothing sells...Blah, blah, blah...

Boring, bored, time to go to sleep. Rinse, repeat, and do all over again.

I'm ready to move already.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Chapter 5:

Ten years earlier... Wires frey. Sparks fly. The banging of a hammer warps metal into odd shaped forms that generally represent the crude contours of a female form.


Dr. Igmus is hard at work on his most experimental project to date. Little did he know that his project would turn into a decade long obsession. After many months of labor and tedious research he is finally getting to the aesthetics of his creation.


An assistant. A loyal servant in his scientific endeavors. He could refer to it more as his self reliant, data retrieval system, but to the common man it is a robot.


After being stranded on the island he thought it best if he create something that could give him some sort of human interaction. He knows through fellow colleagues of his that extreme isolation drives one to bouts of dementia and hallucination and that will not further his chances of survival.


So he has developed this project where-in he is going to create a robot assistant. A self sustaining artificially intelligent, fully function and reacting robot. His idea is that it would both serve as data computer for his various experiments. While also doing the more remedial tasks such as cleaning, cooking, and maintenance around the house and laboratory.


The first of these many robots was creatively named "Ms. One". For a great mind of scientific imagination he was not the most profound at naming his creations.Like many prototypes Ms. One was crude and lacked the aesthetic quality of a Da Vinci sketch or a Michelangelo sculpture.


Ms. One did work for a short amount of time. Which to Dr.Igmus was considered a success since this was his first attempt with welding and robotics. She was infantile in terms of intelligence. She could stand up, sit down, and occasionally pick up the wrong object for the good doctor. Her vocal skills were something to be desired. He could not exactly figure out how to create her voice box. So he substituted her voice with a radio receiver, but the only stations it picked up were a Spanish channel based somewhere off the coast of Mexico and an evangelical minister's sermons that would interrupt him on cue whenever there were bouts of silence when the doctor was pondering some complex problem. This often frustrated Dr. Igmus since he was neither a religious man, nor spoke Spanish.


Although when all alone he slowly became accustom to the sermons and over the months he also began to gain some fluency in Spanish.


Ms. One fell short of many of her goals. Should could not go up or down stairs. She did not do any of the tasks that the doctor demanded of her. Plus, she failed to have the gentle touch to pick objects up without crushing them to pieces. Another major set back was that she would more often than not erupt spontaneously into fire. It became such a pattern that he ended up welding a fire extinguisher on to her arm. Ironically enough, that became the one skill she excelled at.


Over the months that Ms. One existed Dr. Igmus made many upgrades. Some more successful than others. What was to be her last upgrade was a chip that accelerated her movement by allowing more energy from her battery to be allotted to her separate appendages. Meaning she could walk faster, put out fires more quickly, and basically keep out of the doctor's way. Which worked for a couple days. Then she had one of her fires and in an attempt to put out the blaze. The fire extinguisher foam spray short circuited the chip that controlled her speed. Her arms began spinning like propellers. Her head spun around faster and faster as the Spanish channel and Sermons began to get faster. Louder. The two separate channels became an inaudible hybrid of ear mush. The doctor fearing his life to cover under a metal lab table and covered his ears. Then without notice she turned around and raced through the wall.


Dr. Igmus simply stood up in amazement. Dumb-founded. His eyes wide. Mouth open. He took of his eye glasses rubbing them with his lab coat as he squinted to catch her with his eyes. She faded into the distance as the blaring racket of Mariachi music and a Sunday Sermon became silent.


He put his glasses back on. Itched his scalp thinking maybe the energy amount was a bit excessive. He slowly began the long walk of falling miscellaneous gizmos and bits of scrap metal. He walks what must finally be a mile or so and come about the head sitting on the ground still smoking. The rest of the body seems to have been carried of by a pack of animals. Judging by the paw tracks he assumes it was a pack of wild dogs. They are known to inhabit this part of the woods. Luckily all of the main circuit board work and data was contained in the head. So he gingerly walks back to the house with smoking head in hand.


He considers Ms. One to have been an overwhelming success in all aspects. Excluding of course the random bouts of fire and her unfortunate demise, but with head in hand and a whole new list of improvements he decides to begin work on soon to be "Ms. Dos" letting a little bit of her Spanish influence his creativity towards naming her. So with out delay he makes it back to the lab walking through the hole in the wall and surpassing the door altogether as a reminder the power he has in creating this new assistant of his.


He places her head on the lab desk and tapes a little note on her head so as not to forget. it reads

"To Do List:

-more efficient use of power.

-build actual voice box.

-Figure out why she kept catching on fire!"...


Dr. Igmus awakes the next day with new gusto as he knows the task at hand is going to be trial and error for this project he has decided to under take. For the second edition of his robo-assistant he starts to get a better handle on the wielding of her and she begins to resemble more of a humanoid figure. Ass opposed to Ms.One which had more of a Ms. Robo-Frankstein look. The completion of Ms. Dos takes a mere couple of months as compared to Ms. One. He decided to keep some of the elements that made Ms.One unique. For instance, he kept the fire extinguisher attachment. Although now he runs the tubing through her metal skeletal structure instead of on the outside. Plus, he has kept most of her memories or data from the previous Ms.One as an attempt to build up her character and give her a bit of history. However he still has problem modulating her voice box so she still has the two radio stations that she picks up as her voice. Now she can control the volume and so can Dr. Igmus.


A new feature on Ms.Dos is that she now can better understand and respond to Dr.Igmus's voice commands, but she still has maneuverability problems such as stairs and running. His understanding of robotics has grown as well. Allowing him to add hands in replacement of her power wielding claws. Though she still lacks the touch of a surgeon often times crushing the most delicate of objects.


Dr. Igmus is slowly growing used to her quarks and is thinking one or two more upgrades and she'll be able to evolve into the robot that he will need. Her artificial intelligence is coming along quicker than expected.


After weeks of tinkering here and there on her nuances he thinks she is adequate. There have been no major glitches. So he figures while she is of somewhat functionality he will begin to work on a vocal word box to implement .


Then one day while he is inside the lab working Ms. Dos is repairing the second entrance that Ms.One decided to create when she short circuit and ran away. It slowly starts to sprinkle. Dr.Igmus pays it no mine deep in concentration soldering together some wires for her digital voice equalizer.


The pings of rain begin to happen more rapidly. Ms. Dos carries on slowly removing rubble and debris from the hole. She isn't the fastest worker, but Dr.Igmus has learned from his previous mistake and figures until he can adequately understand her power supply ratio it best "let her crawl, before learning how to sprint through walls!". As the rain goes from a light mist to heavy down pour Dr. Igmus's attention awakens from a sound he hasn't heard before.


A high pitch starts interrupting her radio signal which causes alarm. She shakes her head and the signal comes back and the sound disappears. Dr. Igmus smiles thinking she is slowly beginning to realize how to fix the things that are abnormal. This shows she is forming a heightened sense of self.


Dr.Igmus," That a girl. You show'em who's boss."


She looks at up at him. Then something happens... Her Spanish station starts breaking up again. Then it becomes complete static and through the static he hears a slightly distorted recording of his voice repeat back to him,"Boss..."


He is astonished. He eagerly awaits more forgetting that he installed a recording device onto her voice radio so that she may begin to record and play back responses like a child repeating the words," Ma...ma". Nothing more happens. The radio station returns and it as if nothing happened. Then she drops a piece of debris that she held in her hand and stops working all together. Her whole system shuts down.


Dr. Igmus puts down his soldering gun, gets up, and goes over to see what is wrong with Ms. Dos. His mind is racing with ideas. Maybe the rain triggered a short that connected the recorder to her data memory recognition. Or maybe she just learned it. Maybe her artificial intelligence is faster evolving then he anticipated.


He is oblivious to the soaking rain as he adjusts her head plate in the back so he can take a peek inside. In all Dr. Igmus's excitement he forgot to turn off the soldering gun which was lay on the desk has caught some of his notes on fire. He not noticing, it begins to smoke.

However, Ms Dos's emergency fire and smoke detection system does. She instantly awakens from her temporary robo-coma and springs to action. The only problem is because Dr.Igmus was tampering with her wiring during the rain some water has caused some electrical malfunctions in her response synapses. As she springs into action she knocks Dr.Igmus onto the ground. Her new enhanced built in smoke/fire alarm also comes equipped with a siren and flashing red lights with upon further anaylization are a bit loud and bright.


Now Dr.igmus is blinded by blazing red light and blaring siren horns. Ms.Dos approaches the small amount of smoke and fire growing on his desk. Which happens to be nothing more than a few lit embers and a small amount of smoke. She goes to town as if it's a four alarm fire. Spraying the entire laboratory down with foam and covering everything in an one inch coat of the stuff. She then precedes to turn around towards Dr.Igmus with Mariachi music at full volume as her face visor darkens. He realizes this look. He looks down then up. He is standing in the middle of Ms.One's homemade exit.

With ninja like reflexes he jumps aside as Ms. Dos bull rushes towards him and then passed him. Like her predecessor before her she meets the same ill fate. Dr. Igmus knows the routine and heads towards her trail of random parts that lead him to her. Fortunately she has not been greeted by a pack of wild animals like Ms. One. Must be the rain keeping them away.

This time he came prepared hauling his mechanized off road gurney complete with hydraulic lift. With the push of a button the metal arms pick up Ms.Dos and place her on the gurney. They head back to the laboratory and is deciding that top priority is discover this glitch of running towards her demise.

Friday, May 8, 2009

A life of dependence... Stuck in the eleventh dimension!

I wake up this morning not in the best of moods and while I normally don't post this early I have nothing else to do being that I am stuck in the middle of nowhere, Ohio. Somewhere between the farmlands and the limbo of society called Pataskala (pronounced Pa-task-a-la). A place where shut-ins and homophobes dwell. Where the culture less find piece in their ignorance. The kind of place one drives through and has to stop for gas at the local truck stop and wonders," Who the hell are all these people eating at the truck stop?"

Well, quite honestly... My mom and her boyfriend. They love eating at the local truck stop to hangout with the locals. Or as my mom's boyfriend puts it "Gear Jammers". I have determined that I am not better than them.,nor am I pretentious enough to think there is nothing viable to learn from these aristocrats of Jerry Springer genetics and Oprah wisdom. However, what does get my goat metaphorically speaking... Although I do believe that if I did have a goat I might have to protect it with my life like a sixteen year old virgin from a crew of sailors that have been out to sea for months. Is that they have such condescending attitudes as to what they think is right and the norm.

That is where my sense of pretentiousness begins to develop. When someone with a 4th grade education begins to make side comments as to the choices of other human beings I begin to lose all respect for that person as a person.

Ignorance doesn't breed hate. From what I have witnessed. Ignorance breeds overweight, under educated degenerates that would be better off sterilized and given remedial jobs that cater to the needs of people who are actually worth a damn. Then again these geniuses are also the one's that can't function in the least even at such easy jobs as flipping burgers or being parking garage attendants. They somehow screw these jobs up much like everything else in their lives and it all boils down to one common denominator.

Lack of quality. Lack of personal dignity. Or lack of personal responsibility. Any one of these concepts seems to run fluent through their beings of disgust. From their chubby, greasy little ignorant consumerist muffin paws to their celebrity worship and complete misinterpretation of religious ideas. Somewhere in the United States right now probably next door to where I am is someone drinking Mountain Dew out of a 2- liter stuffing their 300 pound fatness with cookies and cream ice cream. As they stuff their droopy eyes with daytime television fug-ugliness.

In my daily routine it is 11am right now. By this time I would have been to gym for an hour stretching, lifting weights, and ran around 2 miles. Then I would have fixed my daily breakfast of an entire weeks worth of fruit or what most Americans eat in a month.

- 3 apples' skins
- 25 green grapes
- 25 purple grapes
- 1 or 2 oranges
- a handful of blueberries ( 2 ounces)
- a handful of raspberries (2 ounces)
- strawberries or blackberries.
- possibly cantaloupe
- around 4 ounces of walnuts

I would consume this while listening to my self taught 30 minutes of Mandarin on CD. Which I must say is coming along nicely. Then I would change clothes and begin to start my day of painting in the garage/ studio. And it would just now be about eleven or so.

Instead! I am sitting here drinking a Coca Cola typing this blog of dissidents because I woke up in the middle of nowhere-ville, USA at ten in the morning. I decided to go bare foot to the bathroom where I stepped in dog piss which happens to be the norm in this household as the carpets are soaked with animal fecal matter and urine. I never go bare foot. But, I thought," Hey! Maybe today will be different." It's not. So as I sit on the toilet looking at my foot just hoping the pungent aroma will fade I debate as to whether or not wash my foot off.

One would think this to be an easy decision. Yet, when one takes into account the fact that they have well water which is harder than a lifer in Riker's it's a tough decision. If you have ever smelled rotten eggs and then amplified that with skunk pheromone. One would begin to understand my dilemma. I decide to just let the urine stay. I wipe it of with a towel. Which doesn't do anything really. It was dirty as well.

Then of course I get up and the toilet doesn't flush. I pull the handle and nothing. Not clogged. Not broken. Just nothing. Like it is a display toilet. The water just sort of moves around and the tank fills up again. By this point I have given up on my day. I now see how people give up on life here. Light doesn't penetrates the windows. The dogs use the interior as their defecation zone. You cannot drink the water it is so rank.

The water is the quality of 3rd world nations. I never cook here for fear of dysentery if I use the water for anything. Which means allot when one starts to add it up. I can brush my teeth,but I can't rinse. I have to use mouth wash to rinse. Spit it out a couple of times. Then I just have to drink a little to get the rest of the taste out of my mouth...Yummy! It gets better. I can't taken a shower because it looks like Swamp Thing exploded. Plus, who wants to get out of the shower and smell worse than going in. I made the mistake of washing my hair in it once. Once! The rest of the day my hair was permeated with the smell of rotten eggs. Then there is the fact that the smell is so bad that I have to breathe through my mouth so I cannot smell it. That leaves my mouth open for the taste to get in. God forbid. So, I am constantly spitting out water while trying not to breathe. Showers get boiled down to once a week maybe twice. And they last no longer than 5 minutes at most. Then it takes ten minutes to dry in order to get the stink water off completely.

I try to keep my visits here to no overnights, but sometimes I am held captive at my mom's convenience since I don't drive, but hopefully that all changes.

This is my eleventh dimension. Nothing makes sense. Nothing works as it should. I have seen how far the rabbit hole goes. The darkest days without light at the end of the tunnel. Where hope is lost. Where motivation and drive are pummeled to death with cable television, Dvds, and a Lazy Boy recliner that is on it's last leg. A place where dreams fall dead on their faces and drowned in pools of dog urine. Where ignorance breeds hording and where hording breeds more hording.

To me this is the epitome of what American culture has truly become in essence. A commercialized collection of consumerism want over need. Mine over yours. The " I am so much cooler because I got the new 5.0 version" which is exactly the same as the old version just a different color and slimmed down. To bad our culture is not slimmed down and cooler.

In this eleventh dimension I have become the minority. A 30 year old male that exercises daily, has no set schedule of daily television programming I "must see", and I eat a bowl of fruit for breakfast. In my true search to always stand out amongst the crowd and be a true individual I am now led to a life of simplicity and health. Both of the mind and body. As America becomes a country of tolerant, ignorant, and dumbed down laziness I find it now more than ever important to be fully aware of everything. To keep my mind sharp and my body sharper.

As an artist that makes social commentary on a culture that simply has no appreciation for it I must keep the battle for the few, the proud, the creative, the motivated. Those whom still place imagination and creativity as important as science and mathematics. Although those too seem to be suffering greater appreciation these days with the public educational system here the equivalent of a cigarette butt that stays caught in the pee pad trap of a urinal. Always soaked and on edge of dissolving down the drain. Something which shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Our society is losing our edge of greatness for lack of caring. We have become more enthralled with wanting to be famous and obsessed with our pursuit of happiness, but not actually wanting to get up and work for it. To understand that with happiness comes the struggle that is where our culture is failing. People think that happiness is inherit with our right of being American. That we deserve to be happy. No one deserves happiness. It is earned. Through hard work, proper planning, motivation, and drive. True happiness comes from an observance of true self worth. If one cannot take care of one's self both physically and mentally then one will never truly be happy.

This is why fat people will never truly be happy. I am not being mean or selfish. Or maybe I am, but some people need tough love. It is hard work to be healthy. It is hard work to be smart. Achieving success is something that is not handed to those faint of heart. True success is not necessarily measured through money or materialism. The measure of true success is the opinion of one's self worth. This means different things to different things to different people.

Sometimes I get caught up in what I don't have and I what I wish I had, but in reality detaching from the materialistic world has given a greater perspective on many things. Yes, I sacrifice some in essence and my life is more of a pain having to deal with other people and their issues. However, I see far too many people who's possessions own them. Their computers run their existence instead of it being a tool to help accentuate their life. It becomes their life. Not knowing how to drive makes everything in my life way more difficult. Then again, I see so many people who pour so much money into their cars that it becomes their identity. Without their car they feel anonymous. these were meant as means of transportation, but have become elements to which people work their job for. They have to work tons of hours to pay for their materialistic desires.

I am not saying I don't like nice things, but when one's desire for items one can't afford jeopardize one's ability to have a life outside of theses items. It becomes time to question whether the life style is appropriate.

My life is not for the faint of heart and often taxes my beliefs as well. For instance, I have maybe 3 or 4 major elements of ownership. Clothes, stereo, old TV, Xbox 360, and art supplies. That is it. And some books. Nothing more. Sure I would like more. Not much more. A fish tank might be nice sometime. That will be eventually my milestone for where ever I decide to settle down for a couple of years. Until then these are my essentials. I want allot more stuff sure. Do I need more things. No. When I have more money will I buy more things. Possibly. Not much though. I believe in owning things and not letting them own you. That is my idea on this whole American stigma. This frame of mind that the general public has, needs to change because it's getting us nowhere fast and we are starting to see the backlash for all this consumerism over our basic needs for education and hard work. That's it for me today. I'm all blogged out from the head up.
RANT IS OVER. WHEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel better ... At least for now. Oh,, and by the way all that stuff I said is just talk...Unless you hear what I'm saying.

Chapter 4: The boy with the Black Hole...( uneditted)

Clouds swallow the sky with quickness as a once majestic blue turns ominous with tints of orange and brown. Not the typical summer day weather. Ziggy and Iggy do not take notice, but Lydia speaks up.

Lydia," Hey, did you guys see that?"

The twins shrug and carry on down the path.

Lydia not accepting of their answer says," No,... You guys, the sky just changed."

Iggy says," Common. Stop wasting our time" He turns to Ziggy," I told you we shouldn't have brought her."

Lydia," Did you hear that?"

A sound begins to resonate from the forest. The trees. The ground. It feels as if everything is emitting a low frequency decibel. The sound gets slowly louder and deeper. The children gather together in fear. Lydia squeezes Ziggy the twins hands. They pull her between them as the look around to see where the noise is coming form, but it is coming from all around them.

The sky turns a fiery red and clouds begin to swarm the sky swallowing all traces of the sky. The sun becomes eclipsed and everything grows darker and darker. The silence is only broken by the children's knees knocking together. The wind begins to pick up. Leaves start falling from the trees. As they get closer to the ground they begin turning to brown in a rapid acceleration of decay. By the time they hit the ground they are nothing more than tiny particles of matter that vaporize into nothingness.

Within Minutes the sky is almost at pitch black. The children can only see each other. and the outline of the sun.

Lydia whispering," What's happening? I'm scared."

Ziggy," Me too."

Iggy," Me three."

Iggy quietly," Maybe it's the end of the world?"

Ziggy," Shut up." As he nudges Iggy.

Lydia," yeah, shut up!"

Ziggy," Stop joking around."

Iggy," I'm not."

The wind picks up, but now it is blowing from the ground up.Lydia's hair is blowing straight up along with the twins. Now there are no leaves left on all of the trees around them. The everything is black. Then the sky splits open with a blistering light. A brilliant flash blinds them and pushes them to the ground...

The sky has returned to normal. Ziggy and Iggy lay on the ground shaking their heads wondering how long they have been unconscious. They have no idea if they have been out for minutes or hours. They do notice one thing instantly as they get their bearings back. Lydia is gone...

A boy stands in his Sunday best. A grey suit coat, black tie, hair neatly parted down the middle, black dress shoes, with grey matching dress shorts, and white socks pulled up to a little below his knees. He stands pale and skinny. His the grey of his suit and in his right hand he pulls out a platinum stop watch attached to a chain from his inside vest. He checks the time and taps his foot impatiently. This is the first thing Lydia sees as she awakes.

Once opening her eyes and brushing off herself off the boy puts away the watch and approaches her cautiously. She doesn't say anything still confused by what has happened. The boy walks around her observing her as if to be an alien species of some sort.

She looks around and she doesn't appear to be in the forest anymore. They are on a large boulder of black rock, maybe onyx. The size is something magnificent though. She figures them to be by the beach although she has never been aloud to go to the beach because it was to far and they had to go all the way through the forest which was far to dangerous for her. She had heard her brother's tell stories and her father too. So she gathers she is there. She sees no sand. Hears no ocean waves. Although birds fly over head. All she sees is this slick black, marbleized stone.

Now minutes have passed and neither the boy nor Lydia have said a word to one another. The boy just continually walks circles around her slowly perplexed by the whole situation and rubbing his chin with his hand to ponder the scenario. Finally, Lydia can bare the silence any longer.

Lydia,"Well..."

The boy stops and looks at her intrigued.

Lydia," Enough already!? Are you gonna say something or just stare at me all day like some sort of weirdo!"

The boy," Oh, excuse me...Where are my manners? Hi."

Lydia," That's it. Hi! I just got sucked out of a forest. The sky was black. Then there was light. Now I am here. Where am I? Who are you? Where are my brothers?"

The boy," Hm mm.... Who am I? Where are you? And Your brothers?"

Lydia," Yes?! Come on!?"

The boy," A boy. On the ground. And I don't know?"

Lydia," What?"

The boy," Well, you asked who I am right?"

Lydia still on the ground says," Right!"

The boy," Well, I am a boy."

Lydia," Huh? I know that. Do you have a name? I am Lydia."

The boy," Actually, I don't. I have never met anyone else before. So I have never needed a name. So that answers that right?"

Lydia," No?! That doesn't answer anything. How did you get here? What do you eat? What...Awwwrgh!" She grabs her head and puts it between her knees on the ground completely frustrated.

The boy looking confused," Would you still like me to explain the other questions you asked or move on to the new one's?"

Not even lifting her head to acknowledge him she replies pathetically," Whatever?"

The boy," Your brothers I have no idea about since you are the first person I have met besides myself. Since I have actually never met myself, except that one time, I guess your my first real life person I have seen. And as for where you are? I am guessing in the middle of the ocean. On a gigantic rock. Just go a walk for about an hour or so that way and you will come to the edge and see we are up very high."

Lydia," Why do you talk so weird? And how did I get here if there is no way to get here?"

The boy," I don't know. You said something about the sky, and a storm. Maybe that had something to do with it. All I know is I was just walking around and wondered into you laying there. Which is really quite strange because I have walked this rock for hundreds of years and have seen no one."

Lydia," Hundreds of years? But your a boy?"

The boy," No, I think I just am. See all these markings covering the surface of this rock?"

Lydia," Yes?"

The boy," Each of these marks represent a day." As he points to little hash marks covering the surface that go on forever," See those bigger marks? Those represent years. So like I said I have been here for sometime."

So Lydia and the boy begin to talk. He tells her of his time on the rock. How he never ages. Never eats. Never goes to the bathroom. Never has to take a shower. Never gets dirty. He never has to do anything. He mainly spends his time drawing things from his imagination and dreams. Or he'll lay on his back and look up at the clouds. At night he tries to find shooting stars in the sky. This is what he's done for hundreds of years. He doesn't know when he got here or how. All he knows is he is here and has no desire to leave.

Then Lydia asks him about the watch. He shows it to her and explains that it is a very special watch because it never breaks and never needs wound. I t doesn't use batteries and he found on the rock one day.

Lydia says she wants to see the edge and look at the ocean because she has never seen it before. They begin to walk. The rock is smooth and surprisingly soft for rock. A few Seagulls fly over head. He explains that those same three seagulls have been following him ever since he got here. He named them Darwin, Plato, and Curly. No reason, just thought they sounded appropriate. After an hour or so of walking she begins to feel the fresh ocean water mist against her face. The boy corrects her and explains that most likely is a cloud forming she just walked through. Since they are up way to high for a wave to splash on them.

Finally, they reach the cliff's edge and the boy was right. There is no way to climb. The height alone makes Lydia crawl on her knees to the edge where she lays on her stomach and peeks over the edge. Eyes wide and mouth a gape she's speechless.

Over the edge, many a tens of feet below is the first edge below them. Along with fog and clouds and the tops of birds to scared to fly any higher. Then miles below them are the ocean waves crashing treacherously into the rock base. They are up so high that they do not even hear the sounds of the waves crashing. Lydia is awe struck. Blinkless. All she sees is the ocean clear blue water to the ends of the earth. She stares for what must be an hour. The boy simply waits behind her.

He has grown comfortable with standing near the edge and is beside her just looking down. He nudges her with his. Startled she looks up and he asks," Want to take a walk back?"

Lydia slowly scoots away from the edge still on her stomach until she is a safe enough distance to stand up and start walking back. As they are walking back she loses her composure and the severity of the situation occurs. She stop, puts her hands over her face, and begins to cry. The boy stops and looks at her worried.

She is sobbing and the boy touches her on the shoulder and say," there is something else..."

Lydia," What?" trying to hold back the tears sniffling.

The boy," A possible way for you to go back to your brothers'."

Lydia," Really?"

The boy," Yes, it is kind of difficult to explain.I have a Black Hole in my pocket."

Lydia,"What, I don't understand? That is just because it's dark. Or do you mean you have a hole in your pocket."

The boy," No! What I mean is...I...Have...A...BLACK...HOLE... In my pocket. Another galaxy. A portal in time. a possible other dimension. A way to get off this rock."

Lydia"Really?! Let me see it."

The boy explains that it is not that easy. If he takes it out she will be sucked into it and he doesn't know where she'll go. He's never taken it out of his pocket. He has only put things into the Black Hole. He has only used it as a place to store things that he finds on the rock. That way he can carry everything he finds on the rock with him at all times. Whenever he needs something he wants he just pulls it out of his pocket. She is astonished by this and wants to know more.

The boy explains that for bigger things he can take the Black Hole out of his pocket, but must keep it closed inside both of his hands and then hold it over the object and it will be sucked into the vortex. He said he has never felt anything colder in all his existence. She agrees to give it a try, but the boy is reluctant at first. She is very convincing so they both sit on the ground and he begins to squirm in his pocket with both hands.

Lydia cannot see what is cupped in both his hands, but glimmers of light peak through cracks in his hands. Then What looks like a microscopic star shoots between his fingers and bounces int Lydia's shirt and erupts into a micro flare of light and dust and then vanishes. He holds his hands between them both and asks if she is ready. She looks wide eyed and sits on her knees with her hands on her lap. Before he opens his hands she looks at him.

Lydia says," I got it! I'll call you Jimmy Pinky!"

The boy says," What?"

Lydia," Your name! Your Jimmy Pinky the boy with the Black Hole!"

He says,"Okay, I like that... Jimmy Pinky. Lydia? It is nice to make your acquaintance."

Lydia puts her hands on his," Jimmy Pinky, I am ready now."

He slowly opens his hands...And everything goes black...

The computer nomad of 2009...

During these trying times and displays of vast technological ownership in the free world I am, but a nomad. A relic of times gone to the past. I am one of the few of the free world populace that was not born with a computer embedded into my ill-equipped poor, socially skilled persona.

The last computer I had I shared with my brother was a Commodore 64. That was when I was six and it was 1985. Now I am 30 and use other peoples computer is almost an unparallelled skill that I wish I had not achieved.

This explains my lack of updates on the many computer based programs that I am on. Blogging quite honestly isn't on the op of my priority list, but since it has been in neglect I felt obliged to pay some attention to it. Even if no one else is. If my subjects appear random on here it is because this is a way I can keep info around whenever and where my next opportunity to get some face time on a computer.

If I have plenty of time and access to a computer I may get a chapter or two in on my novel. If I am at headquarters which happens to be my mom's boyfriend's house I can update my website because that is where all my digital images are and access to Photoshop. Also, that is usually where I will produce my art books and upload on to blurb. If I am at my condo then I have access to my roommate's/ little stepbrother's computer where I can use the Internet for all art research and email checking. I can also update my databases such as Myspace, Facebook, Talentspeaks, this blog, and all things pertaining to my website and print distributor that aren't related to image uploading. Plus, I have a book waiting to be uploaded,but it is on a previous roommate's computer from Savannah, Georgia that now lives in Winston Salem, North Carolina. Still trying to deal with that.

So suffice it to say using other people's computer is a bit of a hassle to say the least. I have however become quite knowledgeable as to the differences to Macs and PCs. I really don't care anymore which I use as long as I can use one of them. Eventually I will own one and the stresses of my life will ease, but until that day comes consider it lucky to receive any sorts of dates on anything because it is all a mission impossible for me to do anything considering the conditions I am subjected to in order to get on this blasted contraption.

I am not opposed to modern convinces it just seems I am meant a life not bound to them although I do appreciate their contributions to my life. I practically run my entire business of the computer. I order and design all my promotional goods of the Internet. I enter all my competitions in art through the inter. I design my art books and sell the on the Internet. I have my website and networking on the Internet. I do a vast majority of my art imagery research on the Internet. I book my travel arrangements on the Internet. Basically, besides painting in my garage all other aspects of my art career are dealt with via the Internet. Or rather, someone else's Internet.

That is kind of the equivalent of being a business that uses someone else store whenever they aren't there. Except that they never know when they get to use it and they don't know for sure the location. Makes things difficult in the grand scheme of things.

In updates of my life now that that rant is done.

-No cross country trip to California.(it's cool...Wasn't expecting that )
-Indy 55 trip is still on...I think?
-Producing art like a mad man. (working on around 5 new pieces)
-Finishing up a piece in honor of the Man that created and died in the Killdozer.
-Deciding what 3 pieces will go towards the Ohio State Fair competition. Probably get rejected.
-Still learning Mandarin. Not as difficult as people say.
-Been playing allot of video games...I think Gamefly was a bad idea.
-Hitting the Gym everyday.
-Eating my ridiculous amount of fruit and walnuts in the morning. It's allot of fruit seriously!

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Chapter 3: Ziggy, Iggy, and Lidia

"Papa, papa", the little girl said as she jumped on Dr.Igmus's bed. Her older brothers pulled her off as they in unison said," Lidia let the Doctor sleep."

Startled and sweaty the Doctor squinted one eye open then the other. He smiled and greeted Lidia with a pleasant," Why hello? Aren't we up bright and early? Could you be get my eye glasses from the stand?"

She interrupts him with glasses already in hands knowing the routine. "Papa, were you having another Dimension 11 nightmare?"

The twins Ziggy and Iggy chime in," It is not polite to ask such nosy things." As they nudge her back.

Dr.Igmus says," It's okay... And yes, matter of fact I was having a dream about something to the likes of my eleventh Dimension lecture. You my littlest assistant...Where would I be without you.?" He puts his glasses on and pulls himself up. She sits beside him grinning. He pats her on the head. He looks to the wall to check the time, but there are a variety of clocks all different. Not set to any specific time zone. Just random. He asks the children," Do you know which one is right today?"

They respond," they're all right somewhere."

They laugh.And like every other day this is how it starts.

The children leave the Doctor to take his shower and get dressed. While they go off to do what children do best. Play.

Ziggy and Iggy are the oldest, identical twins at that. Neither of them know which was first. So they both agreed upon being born at equal times. They bare a remarkable resemblance to Dr. Igmus. They both have the same platinum white hair as their father and a pale complexion. They are ten years old and have developed an acute sense for mechanized drawings.

They spend most of their days planning schematics for gadgets, vehicles, and other devices that they mysteriously have no idea how they came to be. They bounce ideas off each other all day long about the possibilities of the impossible and what can possibly be done to achieve these lofty goals. Their most infamous of creations was a complex tree house complete with a mechanized elevator pulley system that later had to be destroyed because of serious health risks to Lidia. It tried to eat her to be exact. Or so she claims.

Lidia four years their junior is six, but considers herself the Doctor's assistant to which none will dispute her. Dr.Igmus and the twins often forget her age because she carries herself with such maturity. Although, she has yet to conquer some issues dealing with her emotions. She can let them get the best of her as any four year old would.

They were all born on the island I guess to what could be considered extremely rare conditions. They have never met their mother and being that they are in complete isolation from the rest of the world. Dr.Igmus has not explained to them their true origins. For now, he figures let them enjoy their innocents and be children.

Dr.Igmus's style of raising them is unorthodox to say the least. He has taught them the wonders of science and mathematics at an early age. With their minds eager to ask questions he answered them with all the knowledge and frankness of an adult. Their imaginations are flooded with the possibilities of what can be. Along with an entire island that is their playground. The one rule is they are never to go anywhere alone. And especially never wonder into the forest after dark.
Besides that life can be pretty gentle. An occasion bruise here. An occasional accident there.

Ziggy and Iggy are sitting at the dining room table made of one solid piece of wood both working on their latest drawings. While Lidia is adjusting a stool so that she can reach the sink. Where she begins to rinse vegetables for breakfast. Dr. Igmus walks in and says good morning to everyone. The twins are focused on their latest drawings.

Lidia says, "Good morning." and continues rinsing vegetables.

Dr.Igmus," So what's on the itinerary today young minds?"

Lidia looks back," I-tin...er-ary?"

The twins shake their heads as they continue to draw.

Ziggy says," He wants to know what were doing today."

Lidia,"Oh? I knew that. Papa, fishing is on the itinerary today. Can you come?"

Dr.Igmus says," Fishing...I'm much to busy. I'll be in the lab all day, but I am in the mood for some SEA MONSTER!" as he sneaks up behind Lidia and grabs her. She jumps and the vegetables go flying behind her. She then starts laughing.

Dr.Igmus tells the children he has no time for breakfast. Reminds them to be careful out there and not to stay out to late. To be home by afternoon or he'll send Ms. Thirteen out after them.
The children agree as Dr. Igmus grabs his lab coat by the door and heads outside.

Lidia brings the boys breakfast consisting of eggs, vegetables, and some bacon. They both have a puzzled look on their faces. They always miss when she is making the food. It always just seems to appear and it is always exactly what they are in the mood for. They simply think of it as a mere coincidence and nothing more. She smiles. They go back to their drawings as they stuff their faces.

Lidia sits quietly thinking. She asks," Are there really sea monsters out in the ocean?"

Ziggy and Iggy look at each other and smirk.

Iggy says," Yes, big one's with fangs and claws and tentacles. That like to eat little girls named Lidia."

Lidia says," Shut up! Or I won't make lunch for you two."

This straightens them up and they apologize right away. They know that without her meals they will definitely go hungry on the trip today. They all go back to eating. After finishing their breakfast the twins clean up the dishes. While Lidia sneaks a peak at their drawings. The drawings appear to be some sort of fishing contraptions. She notices that both the drawings are of the same exact object, but from different views. They are always doing this she thinks. They are always thinking of the same ideas except from two different angles.

She slides back over to her seat and pretends not have seen the sketches, but Ziggy and Iggy know other wise. She is not good at pretending they know. So they ask if she likes their drawings. She quickly gets up from the table and goes over to the kitchen to prepare lunch for their outing.

Lidia asks," Are you guys going to build those today?"

Ziggy and Iggy," Build what?"

Lidia," You know what... Your drawings?"

Ziggy," Oh, you mean the fishing poles. Why? You want to help?"

Iggy nudges Ziggy whispering," Shhh... We don't need her help."

Ziggy whispers back," You shhh... You know she always builds are stuff better than us... Remember the tree house elevator!?"

Lidia pretending not to hear them smiles with her back turned still making the lunches.

Lidia" Would you let me? Pretty please?"

Iggy," Oh, I guess so. If you promise not to screw things up?"

Lidia," I promise."

Ziggy," Well then, it sounds like we have a deal."

Lidia," What about Ms. Thirteen? Can she come?"

Ziggy and Iggy," NO!"

And with that the front door swings open and a robot is standing there. Humanoid in character and female in form. She has a bit of where and tear on her. The thirteenth edition that Dr. Igmus has been working hence the name Ms. Thirteen.

This was one of his projects he built before he had any children and the prototype was to be his assistant. As the evolution of the robots began through fixing glitches and accidents. Eventually it led to this thirteenth installment. Which to date has been the most successful of all the robots. He fused her to power off of solar energy in order to charge her batteries. This causes her the slight personality quark of often being found outside sunbathing which is quite unusual for a robot. Though it adds to Ms. Thirteen's general charm. Plus, the children find it amusing because occasionally she will be found outside applying sun block on her metal skin.

Ms. Thirteen walks in looking at the children and accessing the situation.

Ms.Thirteen," So, Ziggy, Iggy, Lidia. Your all going fishing today. Remember, be home by afternoon or it is me you will deal with."

Iggy," I hate it when she does that."

Ms. Thirteen," Does what? Iggy?"

Iggy," Oh, you know. Knows everything. You probably even know what we're drawing."

Ms. Thirteen," That would be fishing poles. Just make sure you supervise building those things."

The twins," We will watch her."

Ms. Thirteen," I was talking about Lidia supervising you two. We don't want another tree house incident."

Lidia laughs and the twins grumble.

The lunches are packed. Ziggy, Iggy, and Lidia are ready to go. Ms. Thirteen grabs one of the boys sketch pads and opens it. Her index finger tip flips back and inside is a laser that magnetically discharges ink onto the the page laying out a complete map through the forest to the ocean. Along with notes and diagrams of all the proper fish that can be eaten. This all done in a matter of seconds. They all thank her and leave out the door. She follows them standing outside watching as they walk down the path. She then goes back to her charging station which looks exactly like a beach chair with the exception of a plug that she inserts into her side. She props her feet up. Switches her vision mask to ninety percent tint. The equivalent of sunglasses for robots. She then sets her personal timer for exactly 0'1600 hours. Or four o'clock in case the children are not home and enjoys the rest of her day.

Quotes I like...

(Words of wisdom I feel that ring true to my same beliefs, but quite a bit more eloquent.)

Paul Cezanne

-Is art really the priesthood that demands the pure in heart who belong to it wholly?

-Tell me, do you think I'm going mad? I sometimes wonder, you know?

-I have come to the conclusion that it's not really possible to help others.

-You say a new era in art is preparing; you sensed it coming; continue your studies without awakening. God will do the rest.

-We live in rainbows of chaos.

-The most seductive thing about art is the personality of the artist himself.

-The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly observed, will set off a revolution.

-I allow no one to touch me.

Andy Warhol


-What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest.

-I've decided something: Commercial things really do stink. As soon as it becomes commercial for a mass market it really stinks.

-In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.

-Since people are going to live longer and getting older, they'll just have to learn how to be babies longer.

-Being good at business is the most fascinating kind of art. Making money is art and working is art and being good at business is the best art.

-An artist is somebody who produces things that people don't need to have.


Picasso

-Art washes away the soul of everyday life.

-Computers are useless they can only give you answers.

-The world today doesn't make much sense, why should I paint pictures that do?

Chapter 2: The eleventh Dimension (uneditted)

Eyes focused. Brow furrowed. A man fanatically shuffles papers in an attempt to gather some sort of hold on his latest discovery. Around him are formulas and equations scribbled all over chalk boards and dry erase white boards. His hair is platinum and hasn't been managed correctly in possibly months. His lab coat pockets are crammed with pens, calculators, and scraps of papers that fall out as he scours the room.

He mumbles incoherently contemplating something of great importance. His thin, wire framed glasses seem to magically stay glued on the tip of his nose during his hectic and gestural movements. Behind him are tubes, cylinders, and beakers with Benson burners underneath.

In front of him sits an audience of five hundred of the greatest scientific minds. Scholars, doctors, scientist, mathematicians, physicists, and colleagues all hanging on every word and that flows out his mouth. Their pens scribble furiously as they try and make sense of his non linear strands of thought. Some are frustrated by his lack of organized presentation. Others baffled. The majority just sit in amazement and marvel at the spectacle on display.

This could possibly be the smartest man in the world. Yet he is scrambling for something so profound that everyone is waiting to see what this item of importance is... Finally, he declares," Eureka!" as he pulls a pen from behind his ear. He found what he was looking for. A pen? The audience erupts into brief laughter as his enthusiasm over takes him.

Looking up, his embarrassment spreads across his face like wild fire. He had forgot he was in the middle of a lecture. He takes a deep breath and recomposes his demeanor.

Standing at a lanky six-foot, and one inch height. He is not an imposing figure. His socks rarely match as is the same with his thoughts. The outfit remains his one constant. One white with blue pinned striped shirt. No tie. Top button undone.Brown dress slacks freshly creased... Always. A white lab coat that seems to never leave his person. A writing pad with plenty of pens, but a special pen always cocked behind his left ear. Although, he is right-handed which causes regular confusion because he always thinks it is behind his right ear. Sometimes it just gets lost in his unkempt hair. This pen is his lucky pen though. He rarely writes with anything else. His shoes old leather worn Doc Martin's which break the classification of the regular scientific outfit. More accustom to hippies and mountain hikers rather than one of the greatest minds of the 21st century. Quite proud of his frugality they have been resoled too many times to count.

As he scratches his head, getting a hold on his bearings it was like he was somewhere else. He poses a question to himself and the audience as he takes in all the information for what appears to be the first time. Even though he had been lecturing for nearly 2 hours. He asks," Where was I?". A woman in the audience shouts jokingly," The eleventh dimension..." Mocking laughter spreads as this idea is widely thought of as ridiculous.

He continues not acknowledging their scepticism. A twinkle in his eye. Clearing his throat.

The eleventh dimension has been much debated amongst all of us. And to no success we haven't agreed on anything. Or rather, haven't agreed on everything. Meaning the Theory of Everything which everyone seems to think this is where in all things of the universe share one similar dimensional plane of existence.

I, however, believe that our whole system for categorizing dimensional planes is all wrong. I want to change the actual interpretation of what we consider dimensions. These are my proposed categories for the eleven dimensions of existence.

1. Height, length, width, depth, and weight all fall under the category Mass. This allows for more dimensional levels without going past the eleventh dimension. Although I will say there are infinite dimensional planes, but until we can first comprehend the one's in our reality. We simply cannot, will not, and should not try to comprehend those levels that remain unfathomable through our consciousness. So the first dimension is Mass.

2. Space, the area in which all mass and matter occupy would be the second dimension. This once again is an easily observed dimension and will not call into question my theory...Yet.

3. Light, being the third dimension is by which all mass is observed allowing us the participant to witness that yes, indeed. It does take up space.

4. Time. The dimension by which we measure the existence of matter.

This is where my Multi-Dimensional Theory begins to differ from the norm. To put it modestly. In this theory I relate all dimensional planes to the individual. Without this constant the whole system breaks down. I believe in order to understand what we see and what is around us. We must for believe that we are the center of the universe. Not in ego maniacal way, but in a scientific observational way. Each of us as individuals are a separate variable in the universe. A separate plane of existence. A separate element.We just happen to be the variable , but I'll get to that shortly.

At that point everyone in the audience gets wide eyed and quiet. They begin to think maybe he's finally pushed himself past the line of sanity. He continues,

5. Sound. As I see it, excuse me... I mean hear it. Sound has it's own dimensional plane we refer to as measurements of frequency, but I believe it goes further than that. I just think we have yet to develop the intricacy and understandings as to the complete depth of sound.

6. Energy is the sixth. This is the dimension by which all things move. Whether it be contracting or expanding forces. Anything exerting movement requires energy. Without energy things cease to exist.

7. Gravity. A bond that ties all planetary elements together. Varying in amounts the only place void of gravity is space. Proving the point that all in the universe and beyond contain some form of gravity or lack there of.

These seven dimensions are the one's that effect the variable. The individual. Us. Without most of these dimensions our existence would not be. Others of these dimensions we can survive without, but will over compensate with another. However, It is my belief that the variable identifies all known and unknown concepts, objects, and environments through these seven dimensions.

Now, considering that we our the variable with infinite possibilities. Then, the next three dimensions are linear strands that weave through the other seven dimensions to create the quintessential quilt that thread our realities together into one cohesive world.

8. The past. This dimension is concrete in that it cannot be changed. It is a constant. Yet, we are constantly reevaluating the past and finding new truths. So in essence the past is never truly defined, but there can only be one definite solution. Things that have already happened can have only happened one way. The way in which they did. It is our jobs as scientist to become the perfectionists of the past. Which is ever evolving as time stands still for no one.

9. The present. This dimension is on which everything exists for infinite time. Yet expires immediately. This is in my opinion the only anti dimension because there is no way in which to prove it exists except by comparing it with exact moments of the past. There are no multiple moments of the present. It exists in no measure of time, but only relative to that of the past and the future.

Which brings me to the tenth dimension.

10. The future. Unlike the present and much like the past can be calculated. Based on history and intricate calculations the future in most subjects can be a relatively expected outcome.

Now for what you have all been waiting for. My theory on exactly what the eleventh dimension is...

11. The dimension of everything. The God dimension. I refer to it as this not because of a religious basis, but in a way it is. This is the dimension through which all these other dimensions share. This is where our evolution will want to lead us. Upon understanding the previous ten dimensions this will be the last to open up to us.

Think about it. Everyone of all religious backgrounds believes in an all knowing, all creating, everything of everything. If we were to master the dimensional planes of the previous ten. In essence we would be god like. Us the variable. To be able to understand all allows the manipulation of all. To have complete power and understanding over Mass, Space, Light, Time, Sound, Energy, Gravity, Past, Present, and Future. These in essence, would allow us to achieve evolution of monumental proportions. I believe that until we begin to unlock these dimensions fully. We will continue to only use an insignificant portion of our brains.

These are only eleven dimensions and the possibilities for infinite dimensions are certainly out there, but if we cannot grasp the dimensions we are dealing with on a day-to-day basis. How are we to expect to comprehend such complex ideas as extraterrestrial beings? Maybe, they like ghosts operate on a different dimensional plane?

A woman from the audience interrupts," Dr. Igmus, our you saying through this inter dimensional theory that there is a correlation between ghosts and aliens?"

Dr. Igmus replies,

I am not saying that they are working together. Or that there is some big conspiracy. All I am saying is that it would explain the Ghost Phenomenon. If they were actually figments of history caught between planes through some sort of universal disturbance in the space time continuum. This would make for a rather easy answer to a complex question that has been plaguing mankind for thousands of centuries. As for the alien conspiracy, I am simply implying that possibly they have mastered the eleven dimensions I am referring to which allows them to flash in and out of dimensional worm holes and escape actually having to confront us...

An alarm begins to sound interrupting his lecture. Everyone looks at each other as the sound gets louder and louder. Panic ensues. The door flies open and an intense beam of blinding light blows through the door. The audience shield their eyes as the light completely engulfs the doctor. Papers blow, scattering throughout the lecture hall. The beakers and glass instruments shatter out the sheer force of the light. The doctor stands awe struck. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. He stands stricken with fear and amazement. Completely still. The power of the light shines through him. His hair blown back. Everything is completely silent.

This continues for minutes. Then in nothing. The light is gone. The Doctor is gone. The lecture hall is in disarray. The audience sits shocked. Looking at each other for confirmation as to what they just witnessed. Where Dr. Igmus stood only his lucky pen remains. Scatter papers. Broken glass. All of the formulas and equations on the board gone. Nothing. Not a trace of the doctor left. Just an audience of five hundred and a lucky pen...

Words that didn't exist until I started writing poetry

Zombified
Babylonianistic
Savviness
Unthought
Mantality
Copperize
Policement (courtesy of S. Clark)
glitterfied