It Will Always Be Worth More Than Gold

With a dot in the middle, you see the eye of the sun.

Our moon makes a trail around the earth, and our day turns to-night as a reflection of it, in a spin.

As the cycle of life men have an arrow, while women have a plus.

It represents humanity, but we chant to other symbols.

When slipped over our fingers it shows marriage, vanity, pride, a promise of loyalty, or wealth.

In the middle point between profit and debt, it means sharing, a gift, or getting something for free.

Ancient stories portray it as the forecast of immaculate sex, and it celebrates the magic of creativity.

A wild celebration of animal nature wears only paint, and babies are still made by a conquered spirituality.

Pull on one side of it, and you get an egg, a tear drop, a seed, and half of the yin yang.

Put two droplets together, and you get a heart as two eyes held together, in a stare of hate, or love.

The foundation of a medicine wheel, it speaks of compassion in a mandala, with arms outstretched in rays.

To protect the feeling it gives people, it prevents, starts, and finishes war in the silence of peace.

Is it the flag of the future in the shadow swing of the sundial, and the rotation of a clock?

Math and science have stripped it down, to mean the coldest temperature we believe exists, or nothing.

I hope to put it on your face forever, in the wonderment of a number that breeds a smile.

Life on this planet means everything to me, so happy Ishtar, and happy Easter.





A Corked Letter


Dear Carpenter,

While looking at this patio roof, I couldn’t help but realize, that you will be fixing the wood we put up, when it rots.  Thank you for catching it in time, and preserving the piece.

Please keep in mind that the previous artist who built this home had a personality like mine, and that our adaptation to his creation, was a reflection of how he built his home(with art).

If you find yourself doubting our skills and tradecraft, realize it was good enough at the time, and that the location of this letter was determined by the worst spot on the project.  I took it down and did my best to not improve it, when I hid this here.

When you begin to cuss us for our angles and complicated frame-work, please keep in mind that the customer loved that it looked like a spider web, and we cussed our way through a day of figuring out how to put the thing up, because she wanted it that way.

Additionally, if you are wondering why the thing wasn’t painted, well, you can thank the customer for that too.  She was smart enough to invest in cedar wood, and doesn’t like to paint.

Since I am neither a framer, or a roofer, and would rather be learning how to work with rock, I’m sorry if the repairs are difficult.


Benjamin 0

P.S.  Is there a large stone as the first step, at the bottom of the staircase?  Did you use it to find this note?  Cool.  Maybe you should try playing with rocks too.  Sorry about the nails, we have an ongoing love affair with fasteners.  When in doubt overbuild it, and nail the shit out of it, right?


Does the Artist in your life hate you?

They may, but for your sake and mine, I hope not. Do you ask them to make you something, and tell them how? When you order food from the restaurant, do you ever let the artist who is sharpening knives back there surprise you? Is your life so fixed on exactly what would please you, that you miss the chance of luck, and taste in the mediocrity of planning forever? Have you forgiven them for being early…or god forbid, late?

I read somewhere that, “a true friend only get’s in your way, when your on your way down”, or something like that. Anyways, is this artist who might secretly hate you, wearing a watch? This could be a bad sign if the kid doesn’t play pool. Only time will tell right? When was the last time you burnt a steak, and dryly ate it to celebrate your failure?

I miss the ring on my wrist that tells me I fit in with a certain crowd. They run around when the night becomes day in the halls of the devil’s playground. Some of them are certainly sociopath, appearing as miscreants with no conscience. No con science? I believe too much in the power of honesty I guess. I miss the liars out of hope for the truth.

I like to believe that they make up the minority, and that they’re attracted to people like them. Well, having met a player with the name of “Murderer”, and been convinced by his arrogant brilliance in conversation, that he had studied too much math, I’m wary of the people who poke balls with sticks.

They tell me to talk to a girl but they won’t tell me her name, and the fact that she strips for money, strips it away from our relating. I wonder what she does when she’s not spinning in the air for money. Might she be financing an improvement of herself in the best way she can? I’ll never know, but I’ve seen that form of art a couple of times, and it was beautifully tragic.

I’m disgusted and repulsed by the disrespect, while wishing it could feel different for me, as I want to leave. I don’t though as she’s smiling and playing with another boy, who could probably make more money than her doing the same thing. He was handsome and smiling, so I put money in the jukebox, and got his attention. I was there to play, not fight happiness, so I gave him the pick of the tunes, racked up, and shot well.

Micro management is telling someone what to do, and then adding how. Macro management is telling someone what to do, and disappearing for eight months while they wait for permission to finish it how they hope to. The balance of this lies in giving a what, and teaching a how if they need it. Giving a how, and skipping the what. Sharing a what, and waiting around to see if the how they come up with, can possibly be good enough…to satisfy the needs of what.

There is joy found in the witnessing of an artistic pursuit. Have you ever told someone how to dance? How about told someone they should dance at all? Was there music? How about gun smoke? Did the artist dance, or sit there with smoldering eyes which burnt into your memory? It’s a sensitive dynamic. Their lives are wrapped in the scorns of the unfit, unpracticed, uncaring, and whimsical judgements of a hurried time.

They are the patient. They care enough to fail for years in a glorious celebration of hope to make. Can you see the patina on their cheeks? They are embarrassed for lack of a better word to describe it in my practice. You should be able to relate, but in shame maybe, you pretend not to.

She’s called crazy for wanting to die in starvation, rather than let go of a dream. Is she really crazy then, or addicted to a higher hope? Does her pursuit of an immaterial passion, a love for something she can recognize as greatness in herself, is that why you hate her?

Should he hate you for the feelings you cannot hide, while stomping on the ones he shared out of love for you? Did you see his tears? Where has he been for all these years? Did you think he was lazy, because he didn’t believe in himself? Was he distracted from his purpose by the need to survive, and each time he returned to it, had to start from ten steps back?

We are all artists in my mind. We make. We hope to make better. We strive in dedicated pursuit of an efficient mastered finish. Some of us have talent, some of us have to build it, and some of us don’t dare to. Which one are you? I feel all three in me. Let them be……an artistic spill of will….in a forever unfilled till of skill.

A leap out of the closet

Does identifying with a word helps me to be unafraid of the lifestyle changes I make? What do I miss in the feeling of acceptance I got from people, before I came out of the closet………………..of creative thought?

Do I do my best to honor and pursue respect from intelligent people with healthy morals in a constructive way, when I get overwhelmed by judgements and accusations of dis-ease? Is this what the evolution of how we think looks like? Have “odd people” done this for thousands of years? Is our over population on this planet the reason it’s so stigmatized?

Am I seemingly a stranger to the way you live your life? Does it appear as though I’m breaking some law, but in reality I’ve read about the monsters in the attics too, and as I am not one, it gives me compassion for your suspicion, and joy when you put a question mark on your projections towards me?

If you want me to admit to some form of degenerative logic, and expect me to think I need therapy, does it depend on how you treat me as a gypsy, artist, social activist, humanist, and maintenance man?

Are the little boxes of western medicines psychological diagnostics too small to fully categorize mental health? Does everyone who’s ever watched horror, read thrillers, witnessed violent death, and participated in slaughtering an animal, have PTSD? Do we live in a bi-polar universe?

Is my study of this concept the reason why people who live in their cozy little homes free from radical lifestyle change, with seemingly safe circumstances in their day to day existence, are intimidated by me? Does this seem illogical to you?

Being a student teacher of the mental health that is found in craziness isn’t easy, and sucks as it’s lonely around people who are rigid in perceptions, so is this the reason I hang out with people who love synonyms more than definitions?

Is this a better study of belief, since I don’t have a Doctoral Certification? Does my lack of a “superior” title enhance my freedom to express myself in humble ways, as my ideas get to stand alone and be questioned objectively? Maybe this is another example of why writers take on pseudonyms, like a sculptor who won’t sell himself, expecting his art to earn respect by itself?

Thank you WordPress, for giving me a place to write my journals and connect with people like me, who express themselves freely in the pursuit of balancing cultural norms with healthy creative thought. If the whole of the internet stopped working, I would feel content as a teacher with this post alone, finding satisfaction in the idea that attitudes and ideas are contagious.

While I search for a way to effectively pursue the mission of changing the way people think about insanity in the pursuit of teaching imaginative thought, it is my pleasure to use this canvas. I have been encouraged, constructively criticized, and minimally dissuaded from expressing myself how I want to. While other canvases on Social Media have hurt me due to personal attachments by others for who I once was, on this journey of hope for wisdom, the faith of this community has brought me contentment.

Have I properly broken the rules of thought here? I hope so. It has been a pleasure attempting to. That is the best true fact I could share today, so be well, and thanks for reading. 🙂

Are these the curriculum titles and descriptions of the American Dream come true?

They were for my grandfather. He kicked ass for the Navy as an engineer, raised the flag and swam a mile a day, grew up next door to his wife, lived in the first suburb of America, and thought like I do. In his heyday the other engineers would get stumped doing their best to solve a problem, come up with nothing, and go looking for Louie.

He was great, and I wish he was still around to read this, as he’d get a kick out of me following in his footsteps and designing a new dream for myself right next to his.

When people ask me what my favorite color is, it’s always been hard to answer. How about you? Maybe it’s my predisposition for goal setting, or the list making mayhem in my mind’s eyes. I don’t know, and it’s really good to live right there.

Visualizing what I would be, what I cared about, and who I wished to become, I wrote a list. Since that was twenty years ago, and I’m beginning to get bored with the recognition that I’ve accomplished it satisfactorily, I want to write a new one. Here it is as the titles of a new elementary school curriculum for myself, or if you edit that thought how I like to…..maybe it’s an element cool curriculum for the whole flipping world?

“creativity[kree-ey-tiv-i-tee, kree-uh-]

artistry cleverness genius imagination imaginativeness ingenuity inspiration inventiveness originality resourcefulness talent vision great skill in creative endeavors ability accomplishment artfulness brilliance craftship finesse flair mastery proficiency style taste touch virtuosity workmanship fantasy dream Atlantis Utopia air castle apparition appearance bubble chimera conceiving daydream delusion envisioning externalizing fabrication fairyland fancy fancying fantasia figment flight flight of imagination fool’s paradise hallucination head trip illusion imagining invention mind trip mirage nightmare objectifying originality rainbow reverie trip vagary gift of high intellect Einstein ability acumen acuteness adept aptitude aptness astuteness bent brain brilliance capability capacity discernment endowment expert faculty flair grasp head inclination knack mature percipience perspicacity power precocity prodigy propensity prowess reach sagacity super ability talent turn understanding virtuoso wisdom power to create in one’s mind art awareness cognition conception creation creative thought enterprise fabrication fantasy flight of fancy idea ideality image imagery insight inventiveness mental agility notion perceptibility realization resourcefulness sally supposition thought thoughtfulness unreality verve visualization wit wittiness cleverness adroitness astuteness brains brightness cunning dexterity flair gumption shrewdness skill smartness idea stimulus afflatus animus approach arousal awakening brain child brainstorm
deep think elevation encouragement enthusiasm exaltation flash hunch illumination impulse incentive in flatus influence motivation motive muse notion revelation rumble spark spur stimulation whim creation creativeness apparatus black box coinage concoction contraption contrivance design development device discovery doodad gadget gimmick gizmo innovation novelty opus original mind a perception attention brain power brains capacity cognizance conception consciousness function head instinct intellect intellectual intellectuality intuition judgment lucidity marbles mentality observation perception percipience power psyche ratiocination reason reasoning regard sanity sense soul soundness spirit thinker understanding wits boldness creative spirit daring freshness individuality ingeniousness innovativeness inventiveness modernity new idea newness nonconformity novelty unconventionalityunorthodoxy”

“Intelligence isn’t defined by a period at the end of the sentence.”

What does it smell like when it’s burnt toast fresh and piping hot, with butter and honey lathered on it?

When will it wake you to stutter step your way, to piss it into a word on the snow……again?

How does it work into play?

Why would a toy be un-fun?

Which pathway of it is overflowing, gushing, spurting, and slamming the rocks, to vibrate the cliffs like a flash flood?

Where will the paint and dust mix, forming indecipherable trails across the field of action?

Who can produce it?

In wonderment at lost arts, curiously overwhelmed, and visualizing.

Using plastic for a sculpture in my mind, a suit of plated CD’s, a mask of syn.

Exquisite form comes from my hands when it’s wood, rock, earth, water, and metal…with a focus.

Synthetics are a place of pondering…..which writer should I gift the wireless Bluetooth keyboard to? I can I get the same thing, with light on a desk as the touch surface. Bigger too.

Sensuality in the process is important! Seeking a healthy flow coming down to touch, and grace within movement. As an axe head at it’s apex forced to accelerate into gravity, cleaves a way through wood I wish to type.

Timing is interesting. The other day, I noticed that my unwritten drafts start in the late evening……while prolific publishing occurs at my favorite times of day!!

I enjoy that my number one encouragement happens from Marina, of an ancient art mecca, and our timing coincides for my posts, to land in her lap fresh pressed.

I appreciate you Steven, moving up the charts of my encouragement stats from afar. Your tenacious and charming, well spoken and enthusiastic!!!!! I love that about you!!!

How can I let go of hesitation, doubt, quantification, and pride, so that art for me is a slide?

Create business cards, to simplify the sharing process down to an art!! I find myself overly verbose in speech these days. I’ve got words for days, and need to remember tact, within the art of conversation.

It’s a wicked pleasure to feel obligated to develop boundaries between my life and art passion, for the sake of health.

Is the virile tiger on your back, or are you riding it? When and how?

Contemplating a writers hat as I’ve left the shoes behind and praying for a way to close the office door with this thought, as the mobile office is everywhere I go.