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.

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.

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!