Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Good Robin Williams

RIP to the man who first interested me in psychology and therapy....


7/21/51 - 8/11/14

Sunday, August 10, 2014

GISHWHES 2014

The week of mayhem and madness is over! And I can finally go to sleep. But first let me share with you some of my projects from this year's worldwide scavenger hunt (learn more about GISHWHES).

First Project:

Captain Jean Luc Picard in ketchup, mayo, mustard, and soy sauce:

Then there was the Padoose and the giant bird nest:


Followed by some children serving Hot Pasta with Jam Sauce:
There was also the construction of the Sleezy City...
And the grafitiing (with chalk) on a factory building (where I hope to work one day):
There was a policeman not two hundred feet away during the temporary vandalism....
There was also the painting of an Elopus featured in a local art gallery museum:
And an epic battle between an Elopus and Wooster:
There was me as a rock star:


And I will feature one of the videos I created: Spock and Kirk, and a tiny horse, in a Cuckoo:
video
Here all all my teammates, The RickRollersLovesImpalaTorque, Brady Bunch style:

Here are my favorites from the RickRollers:

Alfalfa and his paper mache head:


Team Dad on a rocket bike:
Caveman in LA:
Elopus Coffee Art:
Why Excel Sheets are valuable:
The newest Hipster facial hair, bound to catch on:

Four heads (alive!) in the sand:
A Stormtrooper at a spa:
Photographic evidence that unicorns really do fart rainbows!:



And finally, a fitting end to a good GISHWHES week, I leave you with the destruction of Sleezy City by the ferocious and distractable, the absentminded terror, Furzilla:

video

Monday, October 14, 2013

Coffee Lady

This is the Coffee Lady.
She's kind of awesome.

These are lightplates for Chris :)

 The Pheonix 
(which was supposed to be a Hawaiian flower but uh... the ink had other ideas)

 And a lovely tree.

Unfortunately my camera seems to have issues with yellow and orange, so these pictures are not quite true to color, but hey what can you do?

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Kids are Jerks

....the famous last lines of me and my roommate 
after any given bad day with our crazy children.


And for your entertainment, Where the Wild Things Are, so much better as read by Christopher Walken:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKNaYlzssbc

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Happy Birthday to Our Lady 
and
Happy Wedding Day to
Whitney and Luke!


Sunday, June 2, 2013

Part III: The Pool in the Cave


            It seemed to the knight that he did not crawl for long before the tunnel became large enough for him to stand almost erect.  He groped his way along and his eyes became habituated to the darkness, until he was seeing boulders and obstacles in his path, as well as the turns ahead, before he felt them. Then there came a pale, soft light ahead, pleasing to the eyes, and squeezing through a crevice in the rock the knight came to stand in a cavern at the edge of a large pool, which was bathed in a milky light.  The knight noted that the pool must truly be enchanted, for the water was not dark or reflective, but rather a faint effervescent golden yellow, but with a distinctly rich purple coloring the very center, and verily all the air around seemed to sparkle as if through a mist.  The water gave off a warm vapor, and seemed to the knight to be enticing him forward.  He kicked off his boots and stepped into the pale, yellow water.  Forward, deeper and deeper toward the purple center waded the knight, yet he felt dry, as though he were walking on land through a dense fog.  To the page however, who had by now wriggled through the crevice and was standing at the water's edge, he looked quite wet.  The page watched the knight swish through the water until he was neck deep and in the center of the violet middle.  To the page's eyes he remained still for a long while, almost as though paralyzed.  No sound was to be heard in that cavern, not even the lapping of the water on the bank.
            Yet the knight, on entering the violet waters, sensed a deep voice surround him and ask what he sought there.  "To know what is in my soul, that I may answer my Queen her riddle," spake the knight.  "What is the answer to beautiful women and good wine and all earthly pleasures?  What is the answer to all successes, achievements, victories and acts of valor?  What is the answer to the thirst for knowledge, and to uncertainty, and to the silence, and to the darkness?"  The knight sought the origin of the voice as it answered him, "I can show you what lies deep within you, in regards to these three things."  "What," the knight asked, searching, "is the debt that I will owe thee for this favor?"  "Only a little, worthless thing" the ubiquitous, eery voice responded casually, "that I will collect later... for now it is enough that you are open and speaking to me."  Suddenly and without warning, the knight felt as though he had been struck in the chest by a great force, which ripped all the air out of his lungs and left hollow his heart.  As he stood clutching his shirt and gasping for breath, three figures began to take shape in the air before him.
            The first to fully form was a woman, ravishing to behold, whose nakedness seemed emphasized by the very mist that shrouded her body from his eyes.  She reached out to him and uttered, "Come," and the sound of her voice so delighted his senses, and such a great rush, like the crashing of a wave, overcame his mind, that he forgot all else—his empty heart, his breathless lungs, his King and Queen, his lady love—all was as nothing to him compared to the sound of this voice, and he reached out his calloused hand to take her soft, milky white one—
            And found himself in a great feather bed in a luxurious palace, the woman was lying with him and laughing, as she reached to feed him a grape with one hand, her other on his heaving chest.  The knight was alarmed at the condition and place wherein he found himself, and further distressed when he discovered he did not possess the will to leave!  It seemed that no sooner would he make up his mind to be done with the woman and get off the bed and out of the palace, then she would ply him with wine, or offer him the sweetest fruit, or touch him so that he was rapt in pleasure. Eventually he noticed another woman lying on his other side, whose body glistened in the light from the window.  She held a goblet of rich wine, and the knight found that it was full-bodied, with subtle hints of oak and elderberry, it was smooth at the outset and strong when it finished.  He drank deeply, but no matter how much he took, the glory of the first taste escaped him.  It seemed to the knight that he remained there for an age, and other equally beautiful women moved about the room, entertaining him, bringing him the choicest meats and finest fruits and most intoxicating drink, and attending to his every desire.  Yet the rush and ecstasy that had consumed him when the woman first spoke was never so exhilarating, the wine not so sweet, the food not so satisfying.  The light from the window faded, and the girls cast shadows in the candlelight that sometimes, for a moment, took on horrifying forms.  There crept upon him a restlessness which became desperate, but he could not think to get out, for all thoughts save the present sensations were on the farthest fringes of his consciousness, and he could not catch hold of them.  Yet one eve, by some grace, a far-off memory of three figures with him in the pool skimmed across the stagnant waters of his mind.  He raised his lips from the rim of his goblet and stared at the woman, who now only filled him with habitual desire and could barely bring him relief, and he queried, “What of the other two?”
            At once he found himself clothed in chain mail, as if preparing for a battle, yet in a rowdy tavern and deep in ale.  He was surrounded by fellow soldiers, who clapped him on the back for his prowess in battle, when they were winded from the braggadocio of their own deeds.  Quickly recovering from the change of scene, the knight was filled with joy and revelry, and sang and shouted and boasted with his fellows.  Sometimes the knight reenacted episodes from his exploits for his audience, and dwelt so long upon the strength of his foes that they became ogres and giants and monsters out of legend – making his own victory over them all the more laudable.  More than once, so absorbed was he by the epic proportions of his own tale, did the knight jump up upon the tables and, amid the clamor of dishes and laughter of barmaids, bring his saga to a climatic finish to the uproarious delight of the crowd.  No matter the stories the others told, the knight's were more daring, more deadly, his deeds more noble, more heroic, until all gathered praised him as the most courageous and virtuous of them all, honored by men and loved by women.  All at once, from within this proud and joyous gathering, there arose a challenger, who mocked the deeds of the knight, scoffed at his bravery, and spat at the thought of his manly virtue, and verily goaded him into a fight.  The knight, his honor affronted and his better self incapacitated by drink, accepted the challenge of the other, and no sooner had the duel begun than the knight ran him through. The man collapsed at the end of the knight's sword, and his dark blood mingled with the spilt mead on the floor as he exhaled his spirit.  “A curse be on you! For this man's murder was untoward, and thou, knight, if thou were truly virtuous, would have spared him!” The knight looked for the speaker and there, just come in from the driving wind and rain of night, was an old friar, with shaved head, no cloak, and sandals on his feet despite the cold.  Rather than chastened, the knight found himself laughing at the rebuke of the old man.  “Surely, good father, thou heard the man besmirch mine honor and bade me fight, as I am a man, to defend it?” “Thou art a blaggart and a blowhard!" Persisted the friar. “And this man's drunken blood is upon your arrogant soul!”  Then the knight, feeling the prick of the friar's castigation, dismissed him, saying: “Away with thee, old man!  Thou dost annoy me—what dost thou know of valor and war and the truth of my feats and the state of my soul?”  And the knight stepped over the fallen body, and together with his company, bundled the old man back out into the night.
            As the knight turned to go back inside, he found that the tavern was gone and he was standing on the edge of a narrow ledge, surrounded by a great abyss.  For a moment, all the knight could hear and feel was his own heart racing at his near-fall into the chasm below.  As his heart slowed, however, and he began to take stock of his surroundings, he was struck by a great… absence.  Here there was neither heat nor cold, nor wind, nor sound; the darkness wholly complete, for there was an absence of all light.  The knight noticed first the absences in his environment, and more slowly came to discover the changes in himself. The appetites and passions that had been so strong before were now of no consequence, as though they belonged to another man, and the high spirits that had driven his behavior in the tavern appeared to be present in him, yet inert.  A great desolation swept over his soul.  The knight was acutely aware of his aloneness, not only in this place of nothingness, but for the first time the knight realized his smallness and singularity before the whole universe. A sharp and severe pain ran through him at the discovery, and yet somehow he felt disconnected, even from that loneliness within him. All things faded away… emotion, memory, substance, thought… until the nothingness was so great that even the knight’s body, and the ledge he was standing on, were gone, erased, had never been.  He was just a pair of eyes staring blindly in the nothing.  It eventually occurred to him that the silence weirdly echoed the King’s silence.  With this, fragmented thoughts began to slowly waft up in the darkness before him.  Slithering, subtle thoughts that emerged from the depths into his consciousness almost without him noticing them.  Thoughts that were old like twisted things, yet seemed new curiosities to the knight.  Thoughts that spanned the ages and ages spanned between them.  Thoughts that were hallow, and silent, and not.  Thoughts, which were answered by something soft as silk and dry as dust.

The King.

Was he real?

Had he ever been?

     No. 

He was silent, because he was nothing?

     Yes. 

The Queen was a lie as well?

And the princess?

Were none of them real?

     No. 

Where am I?

     Nowhere.

Am I?

     Are you?

I have no sense -- no feeling.  

I don't seem to be...  

     You're not.

I don't... believe... you.

     Don't you?

Give me evidence of this...nothing.

     Give us evidence of something...

But there is nothing here...

only nothing…

and nothing…

and the Dark. 

     Yesss…

            The page became alarmed when the knight, who had been still with his face lifted upward for so long, suddenly spun around and collapsed into the water, as though he had been violently struck.  Then there was a great crash like thunder and the page, distracted from the knight, quickly looked about for fear that the cave was falling in.  Indeed, small chunks of rock and stalactites were beginning to fall all around, and the air was filling with dust and debris.  Looking back to the pool, the page saw the knight hurrying back to the shore, half swimming, half running, as he sought to escape the churning wasters as quickly as possible.  “Where do you think you are going?” Boomed the voice, as larger and larger rocks fell in.  “Away!” Cried the knight, half turning as he thrashed through the roiling waters. “Away from thee, and this vile place, and those ghastly visions!”  The voice laughed, and the laughter chilled the very marrow in the bones of the knight, and icy fingers clutched the page’s heart in a vice grip of fear.  “There is no place away from me young fool.  And even were there so, tell me, where can you flee that yourself cannot follow?”  “IT WASN’T ME!” Shouted the knight, spinning and slamming his fist into the water in anger and terror.  That was not me…” he said softly to himself, though a sickly grimace had come over his face.  He climbed out of the pool hastily, soaking wet, and darted between the boulders and out of the cavern, without even noticing the page.