Budda in the burrow

Buddha - is 14 years old. a graffiti artist. He is know for his Buddha and asian motifs. He is intelligent. whity and crafty. He is athetic; as can be seen as he scales and traverses the la landscape.

Sean (gangster gone good or good-er) .... something profound happens to him and the seed of a new leaf is scene.

Hot Woman Lead ... a striper and or prostitute. she is somehow brought into the mix

Buddha - witness a murder; or during an home invasion; he get's away. Sean somehow; can't find the heart of cant take being the murderous son of a bitch he has been any more. But Buddha's brother and family get's murdered in the mean time.

on art

the possibility of art is something bigger than myself. a collection of singular experiences and thoughts.

art can be something from another world that possesses me. that shapes me. that can redefine what it is to be alive

those undefinable moments that can not be talked about; are what drive me as an artist.

dating

Dating

i am creating being FREE... INTIMATE...ADVENTURE!

i am giving up being attached; pleasing my parents; and looking good. plus proving how good i am.

who i am is freedom. intimacy and adventure.

every time i am living a free life i have to go and screw it up by getting into a woman.

being an artist is a masters degree in self misery. if you had it great all the time there would be nothing to write about.

truth be told... what do you do when everyone around you is an idiot; screaming babel and not saying much.

what do you do ; when you are at a party and what people want to talk about is baseball with thier kids. don't get me wrong it's not all that bad; but when your whole life is about exploring and tasting and experiancing. and creating.

there doesn't seem to be much to talk about.

i guess i could get into handy work. and other mundane activities. but i am having a hard time wraping my mind around that

i could talk about the jersey shore; or some tv show. or whatever people these days chat about. i really don't know because i am not in those conversations. seems quite borring.

i guess the more obsessed you get about living the farther you get from everyday life. and it's off to my self imposed castaway island for revolutionary.

inquires into art

most people lives lives of quite desperation...even the most afluent...

life is an expression of art...or a rat race

art is not a pigments; pictures; or a move or two stung together.

art is a surrendering to something beyond yourself.

in those rare moments where you no longer exist and it's as if the hand of god... is lifting you through life. that is the practically non existent moments when art happens.

the rest is a cheap suit.

an artist spend most of his life finding a way to a handful of those moments. not an easy life. not one that i would suggest to most people. a life not for the faint hearted... a life that the most god awful stubborn and glorious people get pulled into.

but oh what a life.

i remember growing up and my dad teaching me to draw a shoe. and i spent hours on this. and at the end of the day i didn't have the calling to continue.

But then word found me. and for some reason the writtin word caputured my imagination.

music also ensnared me into her web

as well as movement. dance is alot like being caught into the current of a giant wave. that is rolling in. raising you up; a natural roller-coaster. casting you down in a free-fall. then churnig you around and a around. up and down side to side; until you can't tell what is up or down. leaving you sprawled out on the beach a clump of ecstasy.

a simple promise

my refuge vow.... funny how simple and difficult a simple promise can be. it's that annoying alarm clock ringing in your ear. and the more you hit the snooze the more annoying that damm thing is. wouldn't it be much simpler to just wake up. if life were that simple for me.

office hampter to movie mogul

yesterday was day 3 or 4 of the gun of doom; late nite 2 am laying out the blueprint of the story. Spirt s are well. spirts are always well in the beginning though. the key is to keep moving forward and strive for the best but never to a stand still. always move forward. as my gung gung used to share with me... in my enginering meetings i always made sure we made at least one small decision no matter how small. and in my whole career i was late only on one power plant.

the only time he was late besides his plan for death ;)

the tree the frog and ryan

tree; and in this tree is a frog. but this not a ordinary frog; nor an ordinary tree; and not an ordinary forrest.

Ryan was on one of his daily walks. His was a new part of the forrest he was exploring. far deeper into the mouth of the adjacent mountains.

This morning was quite a bit longer for good reason. Ryan is disturbed and uneasy.

across a sparkling stream; littered with smooth stones. Ryan played hop scotch across.

over a fallen giant tree; with a stop sign perched at the top from a recent storm

and through a crevasse; opened up a small but deep ravine. a small forest nestled at the bottom. too large for the ravine; but that though quickly passed as Ryan ventured down and deeper.

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the tree...is a magic tree; an ancient tree. a seedling burrowed up from the heart of the earth. a wise tree. but stuborn tree... he seemed to pay much head to the fact that man had little use for tree's nature and other such ancient passings. the glory days of man and tree co-existing in love and respect had long passed.

train.... i am a train... onto destination oblivion; but not the normal oblivion. the ordinary world of self destruction. no i am off to a oblivion of what preset ... of what seems up or down right or wrong.

a morning train. orange, light bright.

it is an quite empty train.

this train is an obscure destination.

stop

lets simpliy

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lets talk about parents

you know that biological connection that many o fus denigh or try to disconnect. reset

a adolecence and adult life of rebelion

a laundry list of grievances

a molotov coctail

suicide bomber

for no good reason.

refuge

refuge… to sit in the shade of you. wonderful it is; but how alluring the world is.

rebirth in samsara...

we are all stained.

we are here to wash the karmic wash of this existence

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more

better

different

i need to change

different

better

a pretier girlfriend

a better situation

a better life

more better different

that is not who i am anymore

then what?

good question.