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Devious Journal Entry
2 min read
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Alive and Kicking 8.7.10
1 min read
Conjure a moment in eternity for me. Call it up, and call it perfection, vibrancy, hope. Make it the first time our lips met, or a desperate embrace before a storm, or a parting glance. Call it fluency, disaster, resolution. Call it fire, blood, religion. Call it whatever you wish. My thoughts and dreams will not last forever; one day they'll be nothing but dust like these cities of ours... and on that day, call me a prophet. Call me a splinter, a persona of this beautiful, frantic, faithless, ever-deepening world... or make it simpler and call me just another human who tried to write.
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Alive and Kicking 5.1.10
1 min read
Happy Mayday!
It appears that I've hit the 7-year mark on Deviantart. While it's not altogether clear to me how our relationship has managed to survive for long enough to be considered a common-law marriage in some states, I'm still glad to be a part of the Deviantart community and astonished at how far fractal art and digital art in general has come in seven years.
My goal, although there seems to be precious little time for it these days, is to continue to experiment and create; to be inspired and to inspire.
And the story continues...
It appears that I've hit the 7-year mark on Deviantart. While it's not altogether clear to me how our relationship has managed to survive for long enough to be considered a common-law marriage in some states, I'm still glad to be a part of the Deviantart community and astonished at how far fractal art and digital art in general has come in seven years.
My goal, although there seems to be precious little time for it these days, is to continue to experiment and create; to be inspired and to inspire.
And the story continues...
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Alive and Kicking 4.6.10
2 min read
Seize infinity with failing sight
and wave goodbye
to dunes of gold and winds of light
that speak in rhymes and lowered eyes
Because the morning comes too soon.
4.6.10
The past is like a lucid dream, circular in its conception
from memory, basking in the glow of its own remembered
innocence. We gloss over the jagged bits, deny the ugliness
its right to breathe, and are left with a perfect roundness,
an afterglow foreshadowed only by our future decisions.
We dance in the equilibrium of this circle, willing
ourselves to be better, more beautiful, stronger, more
clever than we were. And the past is there before us,
reconstructed, not necessarily how it was, but how it will
always be.
Random memories rise to the surface, unbidden, sharing only
the fact that I was there to make them happen, there to
record the moment within my own skin and the neurons that
make my brain. A moment when I realized that every cell in
my body is new and different, every single one has been
replaced, but their legacy has been passed down so that each
new one is identical, but aged in some incomprehensible
process that has washed over me, along with the years
between.
Some remnant of me only remains in the hearts and minds of
those I have known. And like me, if they still possess
life, they carry the dream of these memories as well. Each
one of us, a microcosm...
And so the story goes.
and wave goodbye
to dunes of gold and winds of light
that speak in rhymes and lowered eyes
Because the morning comes too soon.
4.6.10
The past is like a lucid dream, circular in its conception
from memory, basking in the glow of its own remembered
innocence. We gloss over the jagged bits, deny the ugliness
its right to breathe, and are left with a perfect roundness,
an afterglow foreshadowed only by our future decisions.
We dance in the equilibrium of this circle, willing
ourselves to be better, more beautiful, stronger, more
clever than we were. And the past is there before us,
reconstructed, not necessarily how it was, but how it will
always be.
Random memories rise to the surface, unbidden, sharing only
the fact that I was there to make them happen, there to
record the moment within my own skin and the neurons that
make my brain. A moment when I realized that every cell in
my body is new and different, every single one has been
replaced, but their legacy has been passed down so that each
new one is identical, but aged in some incomprehensible
process that has washed over me, along with the years
between.
Some remnant of me only remains in the hearts and minds of
those I have known. And like me, if they still possess
life, they carry the dream of these memories as well. Each
one of us, a microcosm...
And so the story goes.
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Alive and Kicking 1.10.10
1 min read
Hi, it's me.
God, it's been a while.
But I'm back. You see, I've realized that I need more art in my life.
Because art is how we glimpse eternity, and touch the incomprehensible beyond.
Art is a reason to keep going.
And so, I've returned.
God, it's been a while.
But I'm back. You see, I've realized that I need more art in my life.
Because art is how we glimpse eternity, and touch the incomprehensible beyond.
Art is a reason to keep going.
And so, I've returned.
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