Saturday, April 12, 2014

The Man Behind the Curtain is me

Would you watch a spectacle fall to pieces, the hanging of an innocent man, or creative process while it is still in its raw format?  Well this is your chance to look inside the insanity that is creation, while I slowly grind the seed into flour, and with that hopefully make my daily bread.  Or beer, failing the making of bread.

Check out my web log lowly scribe or Road Scholar to watch an unarmed man deface himself in front of a live audience, for their edification, if you will.

Did you see how I did that, a little hint, that is cross promotion, because I am hoping that someone that reads this web log will find enough interest in what I am doing to actually take the time to read another of my web logs, and maybe that way I can reach more people.  What is the point of that, you ask, well I hope someday I can capitalize on this, you know, sell a few books, or get a few articles published, so I can actually earn enough from my craft to support my habits.  Awe well I already revealed the trick, I already showed my hand, not much of a player am I, but just the same, if you are bored with your life, maybe a glimpse into mine will be worth a laugh, or maybe a cry, I could not say.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

This Moment in Time 4-10-14

So you have to ask yourself, what is going on here?  There are so many stories being told, and yet when I look around me, it seems they are too far fetched to be believed.  It makes one wonder, what am I to do?

Do you ever feel like there is just some game being played, on the world stage, like it is some kind of game that you just can not quite get your head around?  Like the people are crazy, stabbing each other, shooting each other, and even to the heights of government, the rulers seem to be playing a strange game that just does not make sense.  Why when we are supposedly the most advanced people to ever walk the face of the Earth, are we still fighting over dirt?  What drives this sandbox mentality.  Where are all the great thinkers, the great writers, the poets, the artist, the composers, have you listened to the radio lately, or watched the TV, where is our Shakespeare?

Has it become that evident to others, or has everyone become so oblivious to the world around them, that nothing really matters anymore?  Is there any coffee houses, public houses, where the revolution is being discussed?

As I “surf” the stormy seas of the world wide web, I realize that the sons and daughters of the revolution are all but gone.  The poets and artist are lying on their deathbeds, dying from lack of interest.  No one cares anymore, and no one can, it just isn’t there anymore.  No poet is willing to shake the branches of the trees, for there is no one that is concerned with the tree in the first place.  Too many will only point to the lack of trees and wonder when will “they” take care of the few that remain.  Is it too late for the people?  You really have to wonder, or at least I do.

Well off to my work in the fields, tending to my sheep and pastures, while I think about the likes of Shelly, Shakespeare, Homer, and the others, resting in their graves, assured that not another will come here after to take them from their post upon the world stage.

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