"In my eye..."

Based on a short exchange earlier today at the Barrie Public Library:

A large balding man with thin white hair stands from his seat in the magazine section with great effort, with a large floral printed luggage bag next to him.
"Guns are getting heavy these days", his large voice booms, much too loud for library conversation.
"Oh yeah?"
"They're getting too big to lug around with you everywhere."
The man dressed in faded dockers and a cheap black blazer turns to reveal a wrinkled red face, one eye a hazy blue, the other eye socket empty and sewn shut. He fumbles with his oversized bag-
"Six hundred bucks an hour to stand with an M-16 and cover my man's back in Iraq. Anyone comes close I shoot'em dead." He mutters something else unheard....
"Why would anyone ever want to pick up a gun?"
"Hell, it's simple math. Why would I work some cheap job payin seven or eight bucks when I make $600 to hold a big gun and aim at Iraqis", he lets out a low chuckle. "Think about it." The man steadies his bag, turns and limps away, turning his head for one last word, "That's MY way, not yours." The man disappears around the corner. A middle aged man silently reading across from me raises his head to meet my glance.
"I guess that explains the eye."

To be written on the wall of a bathroom stall in a London bar

Status is served
Cold drinks
At record speeds
Through fitted denim pockets
Worn from abrasion
With female bottoms.

The real way to make women like you

(Click to Enlarge)

Source: Life magazine circa 1930

Wha d'ieu vallieu?

Thanks Will-
One's doubts is another's inspiration

Steven Wiltshire

I recently came across an article on another blog talking about Steven Wilshire's incredible talents. The following is an excerpt about the man on his web page:

"As a child, Stephen was mute and did not relate to other human beings. Aged three, he was diagnosed as autistic. He had no language, uncontrolled tantrums and lived entirely in his own world.
At the age of five, Stephen was sent to Queensmill School in London, a school for children with special needs, where it was noticed that the only pastime he enjoyed was drawing. It soon became apparent he communicated with the world through the language of drawing; first animals, then London buses, and finally buildings. These drawings show a masterful perspective, a whimsical line and reveal a natural innate artistry.

" Aged eight, Stephen started drawing cityscapes after the effects of an earthquake (all imaginary) as a result of being shown photographs of earthquakes in a book at school. He also became obsessed with cars and illustrations of cars at this time (his knowledge of them is encyclopaedic) and he drew most of the major London landmarks."

All of Stephen's drawings are drawn from memory, if you visit the link provided above, you can see a video of Stephen re-creating a 360 degree cityscape of Tokyo with amazing detail.

The Marble Index

North America
Devours cheese
Whose label reads,
"100% All Natural
Pasteurized
Mind deffocation"

We call it wholesome
And pay top dollar for imports.

untitled

Ducks dance
Submerged in rippling ponds
Seeking hidden prey.
A swallow circles
While man silently sits and ponders
Emersed in nature's splendor.

Ridiculous Ads - A new series

(Click to Enlarge)
Source: LIFE magazine circa 1930

Home

Back in Oro life seems to move at
the pace of a horse trot.
I wake each morning to a warm
greeting of waving tails as the cows
outside my bedside window graze.
There's hardly a noise to be heard
besides the chirps of birds looking for a mate
and the whistle of the cool wind.
The trees are barren of bud
and only daffodils have bloomed.
And when dusk falls
the sky's set ablaze over a panoramic view
of lake Simcoe and rolling hills -
the sun fades
orange, yellow, green, blue
and the sky is re-illuminated by
interstellar spirits.

No shops, trucks or cabs in
this suburban countryside.

three short thoughts - untitled

With no conception of fear,
the baby took her first steps towards
alienation

-

Lines of latitude and longitude
running parallel with human integrity

-

And then the Trade Union comes into power
First on the agenda: Benefits

unwise with age

the elderly man slowly
paced the streets,
forgotten in a
world he'd
created. with no
place to go,
nothing to do
and one end in
mind
he crosses paths
with a cheery
group of intoxicated
teens.
he quickens his pace

I once was a poet - May 2004

(To andrea)
Begin. The End. (The 10th of July)

In four years of tears, lessons and loss
We managed to find each other.
Two years too late and too much ego
Left us as two good friends.

As March marched off and spring came in
Out sprung something new.

...To all the words and feelings I overlooked,
And for taking your hand while I was half blind
I send you this, an apology letter,
Wishing things had all gone better.

(On this the day, the twelfth of May,
We celebrate one month.
Already two days have passed away
Of two more months to go.

With your head on my shoulder
And mine on yours
I count the final days.

In two short years of loss and tears,
I've come to think the world of you.
Your smile, our talks, your friendship most
Means everything to me.)

But all this ends on a day in July,
On the tenth of July
we say goodbye.