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Go away Gypsy

A trash train goes by while "creativity get's down to business" Manhattan style, and fun for me.

There is a name for people like me…..many names in fact. We lurk in the shadows of discontentment dulled by domestication, till our senses set us free in blasts of abandoned feeling. People who don’t understand the feeling, call it running away to the circus. What they missed was that the circus is in our sweat, in the blisters of our hammer swinging hands, and the calluses on the well worn soul of our feet. When an outsider of this way of life looks at it they see us running away, and miss that we have arrived home again in who we are.

Our laptop batteries are dying and we desperately seek an outlet to plug into. A way for our voice to be heard in a dance of fingertips on keys like this right now. I like to call the people I’m referring to in a tone of voice saturated with admiration, ″Alaska!!″. Why? Because some of my best friends are this. Alaska to me, is the willingness to try anything, and in fact the pattern of doing just that. The Alaskans I know can fix anything with minimal tools, and less materials. They can lift your house up with a car jack, build you a home, drink you under the table, and get up earlier the next day to do it again. They are alive with willingness to pursue survival on the fine line… of maybe they might not…so they drink and smoke another one….and help their neighbor if they can.

Artist is another harmonic title of reverence I put in this box. They are the odd birds. The ones who don’t fit in, or in other words stand out. Not like a sore thumb, but as a soaring thumb. You can see them from afar. Their way of dressing doesn’t fit. They are the aliens at home. The weird. The strangers. The crazies. Without them, our cultures would be defined by a bunch of apes running around with rocks, hitting each other on the heads. With them at large we are not surprised to have the Taj Mahal.

We all go into churches. We see them as sanctuaries. We pray in them. We look for heaven in the most heavenly place we could create. The artists did this. They created the closest representation of human-made heaven we have to experience. They designed something so beautiful, toiled to make it happen, and went home happy to create again. If they could just get a haircut, take a shower, act normal, and follow the code of conduct to be accepted by society……?

What other title have I used to describe my friends? O yes…..Radical! These are the extremists. But do please keep in mind I don’t mean the fanatical kind. I prefer to hang out with people that know how to change the subject. Getting stuck on one thing is not my forte. I tend to bend and break under the rules of polarity. One way is not for me. I like two way streets and fast traffic. Going down a one way street the wrong way, right down the middle of the yellow broken line. Taking both lanes going contrary.

Fanatics are boring. Radicals are wild. They just might say exactly what you feel with so much passion that they cry with fury. When they tremble and quake shaking their fists in the air, pronouncing words like revolution, in way you’ve never heard before, you know you may have met one…..and you just did.

Here is an excerpt from my travels, a batch of words I pulled from my little black notebook, that I wrote right before the authorities locked me in a cold ass cell….as they waited to decide if they should say…..″Go away gypsy″:

Interesting to me how the system of immigration is designed to evaluate whether you intend to move in and stay, or just spend money. If it’s just the money, how much? Waiting for customs now….this type of waiting is enthralling. All of the temporary boundaries in this large room are set up to funnel people around like cows, so they can find one like me, to put in this seat. My bench is bolted to the floor. One opening as an exit is provided in this arrangement of furniture. It’s an exit that doesn’t look like one to me, as it goes straight into their control. The others are standing and walking, waiting to move forward, as I sit in limbo. Guess you could call this a success sort of….

About ten or twelve hours later (I lost count, as they took away all my clocks), a decision was made and on a one way ticket I was bound, straight out of their country. I never left the airport to see my waiting in desperation woman on the other side of the walls. She later told me that the flowers she brought to me were wilting and covered in tears, as she resigned herself to loneliness again.

A fascinating balancing act. How to define what is too strange, or boring enough to be normal and acceptable. How do you break out of the rules of thought, finding a new way to see the world and share it with others, without being ostracized by governments, communities, individuals, and institutions?

The best advice I can give you would be this: never put a question mark on a customs form. Have your answers figured out before they ask you to write it down, or you may be questioned. I still don’t have solid answers to most of the questions the official asked me. I still do to the first one. It’s still the biggest question in my life. It’s the thing that defines why I’m traveling. It proves to me why I’m changing, and sets me up to cry.

One would think that the British government would have an immigration clause for “I’m in love with a woman in your country, and I will have to break in illegally if you don’t let me come in, or she may just leave your cold ass shores like our ancestors did because you hamburgers suck so bad, and come to join me instead….We’re exchanging our pounds at the bank. Your currency is not something we wish to use. Should’ve let me come back in to get my stuff at least, I might’ve stayed and inspired you to work. Fuckers. Now I wanna go Robin Hood all up and down your systems ways…. just to pass the time.”

I bought one of your ten pound notes from a British art student after you sent me to NYC. Just wanted to have one in my hand again to feel in touch with my woman. I gave it away to a bum the next day though. Wish you had been there to hear what life is about for him. He could’ve taken your homeless population and turned it into a workforce with his message, so I gave him ten pounds. He said he might get himself a prostitute for his birthday with it. I told him how to exchange it for something with value in this country. Fuck you Britain.

We told your silliness’s to take a flying leap when you tried to get us to be like you a long time ago. This is me as a wild and free American…burning your white picket fence. A yard that doesn’t grow food and isn’t well tended, is called a yard. Gardens are for food or caring. Glad I’m eating fresh mangoes off the trees, and fish straight from the seas, instead of bending on my knees to do as you wish. I will continue to identify more with my Irish heritage than my English, because you keep proving to me how much you suck. Happy Saint Patty’s Day From Costa Rica. Where the people are warm, the food is outstanding, the weather is awesome, and you are not here!!!!

″Go awey gypsy….I am not drunk.″ -KO-

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Toys R Tools Work Iz Play

When I started this blog with help from a friend 5000 miles away, over the phone we came up with the temporary title of “benjaminsreclaimedart”. Over a year later (my software skills are better for wearing soft suits), I have finally changed the address!! This posting was written in anticipation of the moment when I could reveal a name worthy of my energy!!

The bottom of the page is a message to the designer of my icon. TATWIP is not a blog. It’s a dream. A way of life, a train of thought, a philosopy, and an art.

Donate enough money, and I'll remove the shadow so you can see me in rubber boots.....:) How much is enough? 20 million quid will do for starters, this is an expensive dream well worth your donation.

Thank you J-

The hardest thing I can do is make a decision, so bear with me, my mecurial nature is open to suggestions in the air at this step.

It made me feel confused or unclear, like I should draw up some sketches like last time I did this with another designer, giving you a flavor to go from. How much time did this take you? I hope that didn’t come out wierd on your end.

We’re still in the visualization/manifestation/materialization stage. Started thinking maybe just the TTWP put together somehow. Like TWPT, or WPTT or TaT WiP or WiP TaT Or TATWHIPPED. Or WhippedTAT….hmmm. I’ll get out a sketch tonight after work so we can harmonize….Design of logo is something I take really seriously…..Brand recognition.

Free Association:

Professional, school, trades school, break rule, KISS (my best advice to myself, forever: Keep It Simple Stupid), Thought Revolution, Student Teacher, Doctoral Novice, radical proven principle real truth….Purpose….Lifestyle…Scholar With A Blue Collar……Equality….Undomestication….Adaptation…Harmony of learning environment….Building a place where learning is fun. Having built them…..I want to continue to.

Breaking the rules of thought (the other definition of insanity); evolutionary business principles.

Education we can bear to carry in our minds, without needing meditation, and years of practice, to remove every last scrap of crap, the institutionalized system of thought, has programmed into our pawn heads, to dominate, control, and manipulate us, into being tools of a system, meant to keep the rich filthy richer, and the poor starving on the floor of some musty box…..

I sold my biggest possession today….Which means I have a pocket full of Benjamins. I can mail more if need be. Keep doing what your doing. I love it enough, to share the team spirit with the world.
Benjamin

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Right now!?!!!!!

Underrated in education and the workplace is the value of the pupil to discover new ideas and ways to accomplish tasks. If the pupil is engaged and focused in the moment, not worrying about the test next Tuesday, or the kid that told them they were stupid yesterday….they may be able to give the teacher a new idea….This article is coming from a study I did on the five stages of a non-profit, and a fantastic book on creative ideating/critical thinking/problem solving.

When the teacher or mentor who is stuck on a practice of the past, fails to adapt to the changing needs in an environment (it’s also known as Founder’s Syndrome), the solution or opportunity are missed, and the problem prevails.

It happens when your biggest dreams come true….unless you let go of the attachment to the original vision, interpretation and design enough, to evolve your thinking.

Otherwise you become the student of your own failure as your learning and ability to teach, are unified in purpose, intention, action, and result, when you think free….or not.

If you break the rules of thought look forward to a title of honor, or the categorization that is used to defame, destroy, or otherwise devalue a person and idea. Without breaking the rules of thought though, your oatmeal is going to taste the same every morning, while the neighbor is cooking it in a hand-made pine needle basket, with fire heated rocks.

I will give myself an honorary title if I do my best. I will search for the kid inside of myself, and name that person Spear Tip, Custodian, or Recreational Assistant if my actions reflect the titles.

I hate to repeat myself if people didn’t listen and I love to teach, if it works. I hate the idea of advertising, but I love advertisements and promotion. I did all of that here I can hope to believe, by promoting an ad and learning a lesson, by editing it…….(this is the eighth rendition)……again. 🙂

in a good way solid unlocked 1


Disclaimer

This is what I want, with grace, mischief, and fun:

This picture and post are divided in half to keep you from knowing what sucks. If you like that it sucks, please share it on other forms of social media! Thank you for reading my blog!!

The feedback was solid this morning. I am annoyingly divided into fragments of focus and amazingly difficult to understand. Well, that’s not exactly what they said, but it rang true. This is the idea within some of the script on these blogs, as I face the poetry inside the boxy structure of English, and struggle to make solid prose while maintaining a creative edge on grammar. Triple meanings, double entendre, code, abstraction, vague as smoke, synonymous relationship, exotic, mechanical erotica freedom writing.

This is a short story of flow as the post is broken in two. Releasing the before and after together like a well prepared bill for a job well done. Back to back. Shoulder to shoulder. Let the polarization be understandable for the more singular, grounded and emotionally consistent minds. I hope to be one (in moderation) and do that, by doing this: writing here, expressing myself with multimedia networking while honestly pursuing donations, marketing, and promotion of my art…..that I love to give away.

So good morning, or whatever is the appropriate farewell for your time zone, and I hope you enjoyed the mischief. I love to snare attention with play, as it floats my kid joy boat.

Prosperity in a cave.

I will have prosperity rain down from the sky, winking in the moonlight, silver droplets, molten forming art, a wallet of metal, a glisten of sparkle, wrapped around me, in a jacket of wealth. Let my hems be sewn with rubies, my belts be laced with emeralds. I see a mountain of wealth in the lair that is my mind. By this time tomorrow, the mountain will go again, trembling shakes beneath my feet, rattling cutlery and china on the tabletops of the heartland, spewing large chunks of melting gold across the garden. I will be as the sleeping dragon, smoke billowing from my ears, atop the pile of filigreed books, when the slightest disturbance is heard, I will be anticipating, another nap, and another meal.
-the dragons lair-