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Here lies the culmination of my time in an Irish summer filmmaking program: Seabird.

I wanted to spend my time exploring Ireland, not getting sucked into the sort of shooting and editing that characterized much of time at home. 117 more words

How to become an artist?

The picture today shows a hand-crafted czech witch, which is on display at the Festival. I have my eyes on her as I see myself in her, but I can’t afford the little cutey. 219 more words


From a Notebook Lost: The Same and The Other 40 (End of Notebook 1 Part 1)

A grinding, searing pain exists and extrudes from me and to me. A causation and an effect that flows and flow to somewhere and nowhere. A dream, vision of phantasmagoria. 471 more words

Floating in the Spam River...

I had a problem with wordpress recently, and no comments or notifications for this blog were sent to me for months (sorry if you left a comment and didn’t get a response! 108 more words


Fly On

Flock of birds
Hovering above
Just a flock of birds
That's how you think of love
And I always look up to the sky
Pray before the dawn
Cause they fly always
Sometimes they arrive
Sometimes they are gone
Fly on
Flock of birds
Hovering above
Into smoke I'm turned and rise, following them up
Still I always look up to the sky
Pray before the dawn
Cause they fly away
One minute they arrive
Next you know they're gone
Fly on

Fly on, ride through
Maybe one day I'll fly next to you
Fly on, ride through
Maybe one day I can fly with you
Fly on

Swirls & twirls

Deep voices mutter
Secrets dipped in jealousy
The throat shakes
Like an old man’s hands


Cool Cogito, Bro [Jim #13, Short Fiction]

Small Town, Paradise. Green yards and clean air and split-level houses. A post office, a police station, a grocery store, five bars and a set of stoplights. 3,205 more words