@SevenSeize was such an over achiver  (Posting a day ahead of scheldue) but I loved her presentation: https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/sevenseize/inktober-day-7-exhausted

Exhausted is todays word of the day and I feel a lot of the time I have come too far to ever feel even the slightest bit tired.

I really should not be so hard on myself, as I have been as of late. I mean it is really not my fault that the elders of my finite existence have little to no imagination and my prose or illustrative ability is lost on them.

 Very few of my guild have ever really sought to explain the positive aspects of the craft and when we do, unless the audience is willing to exercise their, “third eye,” then the conversation is all together a pointless one.

My hackles raise at the idea of being respected, appreciated, called upon to present more work and being given a real financial opportunity, only to be told by those that say they love me, that it’s not real, the internet is full of charlatans and to be asked, “What do I seek to gain from drawing, cartoon characters, with that rabble of degenerate minds?”

  My hand stiffens and crinkles, rips the canvas, in exhaustion.

For my inability to high jump above the standard of production and land upon the pad which would signify a cushion against barbs of an ancient mentality.

Do you want to know why the Time’s Magazine has not published a “special addition,” segment of the Greatest People of the 21 century?

 It’s really a sad notion and exhausting to consider. There is a complete refusal, an inability to witness talent placed before the masses and say three simple words, “I appreciate you.”

An African from Uganda came to visit me and I found him to be repugnant.

Here is a man that is a pastor of a church, who survived the destruction of Idi Amin, who drove their country into the ground. The man literally killed young boys who sought the education needed that would allow them to do more than plow a field with an aggie; and this African pastor comes to my home and asks me, “Why do our youth spend so much time on the internet, why don’t they learn a trade or skill, like carpentry?”

 In his country when the internet became available to the government and the average person, no one knew how to use it. Now all the youth know, yet the avenues of trade and production are only as advanced as the demand for one’s supply. Business 101.

Anyway, I don’t care if it is Africa or America, no one gets an education, achieves knowledge, a degree, a doctorate, to be made to slave away for $2 an hour, or $12 an hour for that matter.

The notion is purely exhausting and no respectable person would dare spill the drivel.

Here is an African that come to another country and asks for financial assistance and the youth that would be his supply for whatever venture capitalists plans he can envision but believes those on the interent are too worried about becoming “famous,” and to live like celebrities, that when the answer to financial prosperity, monetary freedom, retirement security, is in one’s own creative relevancy, they don’t believe it.

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/creative-relevancy

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/battle-creative-relevancy-advent-voice/?published=t

If we refuse to accept this fact, I really fear for the state of the world in the 21 century.          

Today is a day dedicated to #Drooling. It’s rather a prompt word filled with hidden innuendoes, and thoughts, that occur from the word and I’d rather keep them to myself. I have come to feel it would be a waste of time to illustrate any NSFW’s.

 I recently received a letter from project managers of the server, speaking down on the franchise and deferring people from voting or supporting the artists.

 I may not agree with the views of the letter, but I am one artist and to draw more images of a sexual nature, will do nothing to achieve support. No matter how much people are found drooling at the showcases.

It becomes exhausting you know, to feel you are the only one who cares about the publications that made the weekends better than skip school days or holidays.

When I was a kid you could find me reading a whole volume of Excel Saga by  Shōnen Gahōsha, and drool over the power babes of the 80’s and 90’s. Eager for the day my own illustrations would inspire the youth to illustrate their dreams.

Due to the fact that I am aware, it is odd to find a man who loves women, has loved them since he was thirteen years old and has found many ways to illustrate them and not get bored. To see he entertains such a varied field of art and can be found drooling over Futas and Succubus. Of course I don’t find my guilty pleasures and indulgences in such stories to be any different than those who binge watch and drool over Grey’s Anatomy. Their were tones of programs that initiated drooling sessions when I was in college. True Blood,    Heather Graham’s vampire hunter series, Zane Novels.

Every time I think of Zane, I wonder what happened to her?

Did the continued invasion of editors upon her written material become too much and found her without an audience?

Anyway, we can say nineteen years has been dedicated to establishing a time frame for when Loco Art began. Ten years later I fell in love with Norah Jones. I was eleven and like many my age played video games, read comics, wrote my own books. Come to think of it, my time in New Jersey allowed me to fall in love with three very different but creative women around my age. Nina Valentine, Chamel Surfellow, Colleen Williams; Nina the Puritan, Chamel the Whore, Coleen the Goth.

Nina and I where fine together, except in all of our discussions we never kissed. Intellectually we were good for each other, but she had this way of making me feel unless I was willing to marry, I’d never score a kiss. Hard for a military brat that moves from place to place and never can call a place home for a year.

Because I was who I was, I had to tell her it would not workout. Needless to say, we never spoke about writing books anymore.

Chamel became a pleasant distraction, ensuring me that her desire to “put out,” would benefit us both and she would not hold anything against me, if I didn’t stay around.

I never did keep Chamel, fearing if she was so fine with a guy she only met once, what would she do if I was not around. Every time we met for the bus ride home and she allowed me to collect my share of coconuts and affection, I would slowly forget my misgivings or care about who else might have done the same.

None could touch me like Colleen Williams mind you.

She controlled my dreams and reality for two years. From 12 until I was 13, when ever she wanted me, she would only have to jingle the bell on her collar, and with joy would I appear to her. “Yes my mistress?”

“Dream Weaver, we’d like to know, considering you’re a man, what would you desire to fulfill your dreams, the Puritan: who will only love you when no one else is looking. The whore: who will love you and everyone else. The Goth: who will love you with chains of pleasure that not only keep you connected but teach well the lesson of pleasure received amidst one’s pain?”

I allowed the goth to capture my virginity, along with my imagination for two years. We entertained one another all for the sake of love.

I never did ask about a fourth option; due to being unaware such an option existed: To be loved by another Dream Weaver like me. What a pleasure indeed.   All one can do is drool.

My inability to dispel the arguments against the economical credibility of my talent and the art of illustration is not because I am chicken.

I’ve been the “lone chicken,” in this argument for fifteen years.

I don’t go around waiting for the sky to fall, but I have gotten used to the idea that this “guilty,” pleasure, this “hobby,” that has given me so many wonderful moments of peace from the burden of being a man who must hear from his peers or those older, how much money they make from the trades or doctorates they spent three years to earn. I must sit in on dinners and hear about Bitcoin investments that have gone no where but are sure to, “rise,” very soon.

  I entertain people who have believed the only real definition that is suited to a “man,” is one who gleans fields, mulls around in the septic tanks, is a butler, chauffer, valets, city bus driver, tire manufacture, pipe cutter, landscaper, beasts of burden who are made to look down until they are too old to matter to the visions of tomorrow.

I spit at the thought, but I am not chicken.

Never did mind laymen’s work, I am a large man, built like an ox. It is presumed that because I am 6’0’’ tall, one hundred and eighty pounds and have broad shoulders and a wide back, my sole lot in life is to be a pack mule.

Then one day, this “lone chicken,” decided to travel cross country and work for hire. No time for “art,” love, books, degrees, promotions, impressions, resumes (that fail), sweets that make us fat, high collar conversation, or my favorite pass time of those not disenfranchised, celebrating holidays with loved ones.

 Seven years of travel, refusing to deal with people who believe the end justifies the means, or poverty is solely a state of mind.

One philosophy opens doors to pimps and prostitutes, the other seeks to hold one hostage, by ball and chain to an occupation a degree from a university did not aid me in securing.

Stop me if you have heard this before.

A thousand miles have I “the lone chicken,” traveled alone and I guess after all of my cogitations, I am willing to suffer the ill manners of people if it means I don’t have to be alone anymore.

So, I listen to them at my dinner table and when the pretty face comes along to share a worm or two with me, I suffer her endless questions as to why I would rather illustrate than invest my time and effort and hard earned money in Bitcoin.

It is certainly not because I am chicken.  

This fourth day of Inktober is prompted by the word "Spell."

Now many of us associate this idea with superficial beliefs of spells being solely prescribed to occult artisans and though they have made a profession of the language that is a "spell," or charm.

I dare say a Spell is a word in which commands life, dictates a preconceived action and is "satisfied," dependent on the user of the diction.

I have been told I am moody, easily offended and too violent. All of which is not true. There is a difference between wrath and indignation. One is allowable by the heavens and the other arrives from the temptation of meddling spirits.

Some have suggested I am bipolar, again not true. Those that say it are the same people who will see me about to eat a slice of pie and suggest I don't need any food because I am getting fat and should share with those in need and feel good about the sacrifice.

Pardon me while I burst.

Again, spells are merely words used to control a situation, or person.

For instance, I know of people who don't read like I do. They don't find joy in the craft of weaving stories from the moments of where we've been to perceive where we are going. While they work aimlessly from sun up to sun down, the looks on their faces suggest I am wrong to use three hours of the day and three solid hours of the night to record my dreams and illustrate them. (From my youth, it has been asked, in hopes of deterring my passion for inked expression, “What money can be made from your efforts?”)

  From my youth I’ve been made to react much like the little witch with her pet dragon, who was denied her yearly desire of solitude and pumpkin pie.

“Pardon me while I burst.”

  I suppose I have such little patience with people and how they verbally address me because of my understanding of the power of words and how they are used to control people.

When the little witch was called “fat,” and promised security of an “acceptable,” appearance by ignoring herself and giving to others; though weak in it’s execution, this has been a formidable method to create the eating disorders, such as Bulimia, Anorexia, Obesity, Eimeria, or Acid Reflux; all of which could have been avoided if we avoid those who exude manic depression behavior of an overly judgmental and  “controlling,” person.

 It should be noted that one can’t dispel such poisons of the mind, which affect the body, until they become aware, with the use of the “third eye,” of how such spells begin to erode the very real person.

Words used to weaken, demoralize, centralize, or control, from my youth, have been, burned, cut, sucked into a box, or through great effort, and what many have demonized into a category of narcissism, erased from my mind, in moments of reflection and tranquility.

  Having to return to this mode of thought every time someone has a foul thing to say about me is draining. Instead I try to carry my own sense of self-worth as a jewel or ornament around my neck. Of course, such vibrance brings forth entities that have no form until they are named.

 Jealousy, Envy, Strife, Condescension, Patronization, Emasculation.

The worse being the latter.

I am a man and have found it to be the woman’s curse, the moment she is not given flattering words or uplifted and praised, she will begin to cast spells of the mind that begin with the following,

“You’re not as handsome as you used to be. Years ago, your stomach was flat and now at thirty you have a paunch and your balding.”

None of which is true, but because your still attractive to others and you still desire her, she seeks to give you reason to charm her. Envy, springs from her mouth and you’ve not said a word, as you enjoy your meal after a hard day’s work, yet she continues to speak and disturb your appetite, enough, until there is Strife.

You are aware that it will hurt her, more than anything, if you stop eating what she provides for you.

Backing away from the table, excusing yourself, politely, she is made to ask, “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to finish your meal?”

As if she was not just attacking your middle-aged paunch.

There is no need to say it, but the satisfaction is inches from your lips, “I am fat, remember.

Pardon me while I burst into flames.”

Condescension and Patronization dance into the room. As she utters the next spell.

“You called yourself fat, I did not say a word, all I said was your developing a paunch and I don’t find you as attractive as I used to.”

Right around the corner Emasculation sits and waits to drive home the finishing blow to the conversation, “It is immature of you to leave the table, or to become angry, or say anything, because I suggested you have a paunch, are aging, not as attractive, and when I look at you, I can see your belly. I’d hate to have you at forty-five with a belly so far gone it hits the door before you do and you can’t get your man-hood to rise anymore.”

Pardon me while I burst!

Yes, my friends’ words are no more than spells cast to create our very real world and for years I’ve fought very hard to get people around me to realize, if you don’t want bad things to happen in your life, then speak positively, plan deliberately and verbalize the greatness you can perceive with your, “Third eye.”

That fictional vision you don’t believe in.   

Now this very same duo, the woman who causes her hard-working lover to burst into flames, used words to create love. Three words from time to time to be exact.   Namely after the flames die down you will find them whispering, “I love you.”

They have an affect on a man you know. To the point he will not care that only a heart beat ago, she was denying him food in order to save him from the lack of sex-appeal, libido, and the manifestation of a glutenous nature that overcomes all of us during these excessively merry seasons.

When we hear a spell sung, we call it enchantment.

When we see a spell spun we call it Magic.

(For lack of a more inclusive term, or just an inability to escape traditional and comfortable ideas.)

I don’t really have any handy, though I kind of should; I am contemplating if I can interchange a “Spell,” for a “Blessing,” or words of encouragement?

If this thought is allowed and developed a common place, in all the puff and smoke we kind of forget all many need are words of encouragement.

Well I can’t speak for everyone but certainly for my own experiences. With those prompted to cast bad feelings on those they love, in order to feel better about themselves.

To add salt to injury, I find the pretty ones that cause all the trouble, I suppose the spell of allure never works without a fair amount of vibrance; and my pride would never permit me to allow an unattractive woman to project negativity upon me. Not without so much as correcting her.

Some would call that chicken.      

Pardon me for a minute while I burst.

I must give a disclaimer that a lot of what is about to be said is directed to myself in observance of my own feelings on an issue I really want resolved before long and continues to appear from the pit of insecurity.

(Not my own pit-mind you. It is someone else’s pit of black goo that is invading my own, space.)

Pardon me while I burst.

A while back @TheGrimlord asked me to draw him a little witch lost at the fair. Something to coincide with the soundtrack he made for the idea. https://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/814201

To this day no one has taken him up on his offer and the one I did before was not quite "family friendly,"

Pardon me while I burst, I was not feeling "family friendly," at the time. Sometimes I still don't feel family friendly and make little effort to do so.

Aside from my feelings, I sought to excuse my behavior in the notion that because I cannot define "tranquility," A marvelous word and the best I came up with is an expression of peace that is so foreign to me, everyday someone is asking me. "Hey mister did your cat die yesterday?" or "Are we going to have a good day today?"

That is not a family friendly question just, so you know. That is a question that leads to fire, flames and fury; for it implies "you," the person that asks such a question, that there is something negative that can be said If I find a need to chuck fireballs at you and I had not even said a word yet. Why don't you wait until I start chucking them before you insinuate that I am in  a bad mood, and while we are on this train of thought, "who are you to suggest, I should not feel bad or the show of any form of aggression, is of the devil?"

I've been hearing that a lot lately, so Pardon me while I burst.

This disruption of my tranquility has been formulated upon the idea that if what is said by "you," (the person that asks, are we going to have a good day today?")  angers me, if what you do angers me, I should say nothing.  I should allow you to feel comfortable to share your thoughts even if it is at the expense of my esteem, I want to have a good day, don't I?

As I complete this thought and reflect on how in the same sentence I was compared to the devil or being possessed of him, something snaps and all that I hear in my head is the "little witch lost at the fair." An entertaining tune that begs me to be family friendly, even when I am being verbally abused.

As hard as it was for me to believe a little witch could ever be lost in a fair, it was that much harder for me to believe I am suffering from a lack of tranquility and verbal abuse and encouraged to remain in this pitiful state to prove, "I can love."

Another song comes to mind It is new but very relevant to this conversation, "She's Kerosene," by an on the verge group "The interrupters." I think. When they are new like that, they are prone to name changes. I like the song. I think it's a shame I don't have a song to douse that flame right now. I wonder at times, "Why should I..?"

I never sparked the match. Even in my silence I have been wrong.

There are times when a person will say something to make the Dragons eye quiver and I won't say a word. They will drag on and on and pile up that fortified tower of justified filth and in the name of peace, friendship, and love I won't mention how insensitive or down disrespectful it is to build a wall, to want distance and space, and then accuse "Me," of having separated us or some other nonsense, and wanting to be free of the burden of being made to sit next to you guarded palace walls until you are ready to join the real world.

"Why should I lose my tranquility over a moment in passing?"

In the name of real love, who is going to hold onto the comments about weight gained from the pumpkin pie of last year’s holiday celebration? Who really cares that every year when it is time to enjoy a slice, someone is making a comment of how big the paunch has become, is that really a reason to throw fireballs?

I think it is when you've heard me explain my desire to care and love you, all day I entertain your needs at the neglect of my own and you have the nerve to ask, "Do I stick around for love or to fulfill my  lusts?" As if after two years you can't tell the difference, do I find the flame begin to rise.

Pardon me while I burst. 

The second day of Inktober has been prompted by the word: Tranquility. Why? I have not the slightest idea.

This was a very difficult word to conceptualize. Partly due to the fact that it is concept I never get to achieve. Hard to illustrate something never to truly be had by the artist. I mean I can dance all day long around the idea of "Tranquility," and never really scratch the surface as to what it really is and why it is important to me that I have it.

Daniel 4:27 is the only time the word is used in the bible. Meaning it is not really a spiritual word though that is the first place we would think to look when defining the word. Point is, not even those that ask for a semblance of "Tranquility," In the doctrines of Peace and Humility, where able to describe, this elusive thought.

How to begin?

Well Inktober was devised by a young artist nine years ago, who wanted to be able to develop their inking skills and constructive talent. An illustrative ability that encourages the use of the "third eye," with the use of this gem of the mind, I was able to devise "Tranquility,"

Some I am sure believe this impossible word can only be induced by drugs, sex, stillness, placidity, the lack of intellectual energy let alone the use of the "third eye." Such a word can only be felt in the stillness, deep in the chasms of a vaulted cell where one can find, "Oneness of Self," another notion that bothers me.

Nothing ever stops moving and nothing comes from nothing, not even "Tranquility." So how do we obtain such an idea in the midst of a life that refuses to allow a moment in order to define it?

Am I to look for it in the beauty of a budding rose. In the sweetness of her rose bud mouth, in the ability to give to the poor, to express compassion to those in fear. To exude contentment no matter the lack of sunrise or the bathing light of the moon. Maybe by watching the spider which spins a web, even in the wind.

Learning to be content no matter the state of mind I am in? Is this Tranquility?

If it is, this is certainly something I desire to carry with me no matter the raging of the storms in life.

Well today is October the 1st. Marking half a year for me of being online and presenting art and joining contests and supporting Newgrounds.com event calanders.

 When I first arrived to Newgrounds.com I was too late to present anything for Inktober (October) but thought it was the greatest idea ever. A whole month dedicated to what you can produce with the pen. Because I grew up with art that consisted with no color, all of it was ink boards, and black marker, I really appreciated the notion that as the world of Art evolves and the internet expands, we should not forget this special month of Inktober. There is a whole genereation that has no idea who  https://inktober.com/ is and well I hope I can help allivate such ignorance.

So this month will be dedicated to one of my favorite mediums and I know https://headmistressseven.newgrounds.com/ will be pleased. She has been asking me since last year to return to ink.

I personally feel I have not left ink, I have just supplimented my desires for ink with that of digital. I clearly use the same techniques from time to time, one is just flashier than the other. (I am just happy she is still a fan of my work. All that matters in the search of artisitc achievement.)

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/death-would-not-stop-chasing-me This was one of my inking joys and I have some others in my gallary. I will pull from this collection and show case someone other representations and take the time to make this month on to remember, and continue a tradtion that has been on going for nine years now.

So yeah that is my short list of things to come @Pecheneg so I can't rest right now. LOL.

I wonder if @LEWDUA and @@TheShadling will present anything for the month of Inktober.

@Ephyse was great last year, I like how he expanded on the idea and made crop-out cards that he could take around town with him. The extra miles we go for festivals. I won't be walking around with my ideas, that is why I spend $80.00 on buisness cards every six months. No, instead I am going to take an Inktrip this month, and bring different ideas to the table.

You all are welcome to tag along.

Well you know it was coming and if you didn't know, now you do.

History in the making, I've completed the first ever dynamic rendition of a musician whom I am certain should be remembered as one of the "Greatest Creators," of the 21 century.

Though it is true, I've wanted my own name in that number, I have not come close to achieving the level of innovative, inspiring and creativity as the industrious and luxurious, Norah Jones.

There are over 1,735 images associated with Norah Jones on DeviantArt.com and I think it is nice to be able add my name to the number of artists that appreciate her contributions to the world of creative innovation.

I am particular fond of Norah graffiti by ShinodaArts and Norah Jones by Zindy. Venessa Weuffel's rendition is tasteful as well and I think these pieces really capture what she is capable of as a musician. 095-Norah Jones by Naina Art is pretty amazing as well; and we can't forget Leafar18.

After completing my representation of Norah Jones, I am still unsure as to what I should present the work as, Can I be satisfied with just calling it "Fan Art?"

 A dream discussion with a person who has never really placed herself in the presence of people outside of music?

I was a young man when I first heard her sing and thought her 'husky,' voice was the siren call needed of time to help people think of better things. Her songs always opened the door for people to have a "reel," conversation. To poise questions about love, built upon friendships, developed in time and only lasting because of the effort of those in the relationship and their reliance upon each other. I sit here wondering if she ever found that kind of love, friendship, connection with someone as the songs she sang of.

I must have been 16, when I first heard her sing, "Come away with me." A very original song, which put me to sleep at night 'warmly,' for a long time. I find it interesting that it's been nearly fifteen years and she has not ceased to please my ears. Being so young, no woman, my age or older would have taken me seriously, not about LOVE or Romance. At least, they were not supposed to; it was because of Norah Jones, I got tired of playing with the hearts of women. I wanted a woman to love me and sing, "Virginia Moon," when we were fifty-four years married, through the ups and downs, the good and bad and watch the day break with Norah's sweet voice paving the way.

 Fifteen years of music and song writing and she began tweeting in 2009, that's nine years of advertising collaborations that have allowed her to jam with Andre 3000, Willie Nelson, Foo Fighters, and a number of other heavy hitters in American entertainment. With her ability to captivate so many people with her voice and written expression, with her command of the pen and lyrical prowess, had I been able to ensure her nomination, I would have put her name down for a Pulitzer Prize.

If anyone was to win a Pulitzer for their lexicon and musical talent, storytelling ability and dream weaving, it should have been her. Why are we afraid to support real stories?

I am not going to speak for anyone, I don't know Ms. Jones. I don't know how she feels about rappers and their claim to the world of music, especially since she is a sensation all on her own, with diction that allows her to be understood in any universe not just one section of it.

That being said, I wonder how she feels about the world rewarding skills that are not universally appreciated?

I loved her rendition of Black Hole Sun, conducted at (Detroit Fox Theatre 5.23.17) It is interesting to know she'd give such a tribute to Chris Cornell, considering this is the same woman who sang "Turn me on," and "What am I to you?" After such sweetness found in the twang and her connection to jazz, blues, and country and ballads, one begins to expect songs like "Will you still love me tomorrow," and it becomes a pleasant surprise when you know she has the ability to rock your world with "Happy Pills," twirl you around with her pink ribbons and "Help you make it through the night slow."

In truth I don't care how she croons, shuffles and jives, she has the skills and delivery that would have me insist, "I’ll Be Yours Tonight."

   The disclaimer at the end of the film refers to firms: The events, characters and firms depicted in the photoplay are ficticious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual firms, is purely coincidental, I felt such ideas are needed in the telling of this story.

Terina Sharabba.

How can I describe Terina in the best light? She is Christian, she believes in marriage, she is an immigrant that came to America illegally and worked very hard for citizenship through many legal practices. She is against porn, drugs, and adultery, and homosexuality, and pedophilia. She likes men like Samson and believes we should teach all our sons his message, of singular loyalty and love, in hopes of teaching them, what it means to be “men of valor.”

  A lot of what she believes is quite like that of Jair Bolsonaro. She does not believe in rape mind you and would probably be the first to assist in his demise from power. If it is proven that he is bad news for Brazil; news that includes human rights violation. Reasons she would have tender heart towards considering her need to leave Portugal, eleven years ago, and her inability to return.

  She is not Brazilian mind you, so don’t ask her about Rio’s Radicals. She is fluent in the language, but she is from Portugal. A mother of three or four children. I can only recall stories of three. A daughter going to college, a son she fought very hard to acquire during transition from Portugal to America, and a daughter that is handicapped, who is 23 years old. I can’t remember if the daughter was adopted or not but each child of hers has taken the handicapped one as their own responsibility. Which I thought was nice.

 As I said before she is not American born but came to the country illegally. Some would say as a “mail order,” bride. It was only after hearing her story did I remember how often this occurs in America. She was married twice, once in her own country and after leaving and dealing with the theft of her son and his retrieval, from his enraged and bitter father, she married the man who aided her in getting back what she lost. The man was able to supply a modest homestead for her. Those where important conditions to her before she would marry.

 The man would use this “security,” as a noose of course and would riddle her with guilt the moment she would raise a fuss about the economic insecurities.

 Most marriages are encumbered by this and most decrees of love are ensured by it.

Callous I know but let’s be mature in our analysis of the facts and not ask questions we already know the answer to.

“Why would a woman of fifty-one years of age flirt with a man twenty years younger, when she is married, has children and can afford to travel from Portugal to North Carolina to Massachusetts and send her children to college and care for a handicapped child?”

 We do not risk all we have created for the fleeting good looks provided by our youth, do we?

Are we comfortable risking our livelihoods on relationships outside of marriage and the one we seek to fulfill our fancies with is less inclined to fulfill is financially, as we ourselves?

Are we fools for the thought?

She made is quite clear she has not slept with her husband for a year, she’s been “traveling,” on intercessory prayer trips in that time. In short, she is hunting for a new life.

While I had the honor of entertaining her for a weekend I was able to enjoy a lot of what she had to offer. I was surprised she was so willing to offer so much at the first meeting with me. She was so adorable when she asked,” Did you feel the connection between us when we prayed?”

We prayed for our meal, I suppose this is an occurrence that happens less and less in her own home as her husband battles with their economic insecurities.

She told us stories of her travels and what brought her to America and I really curious as to how she survived the 2008 financial crisis. Wondering what lessons of economics, I could glean from this traveling praying saint. Most are not honest with themselves or others when it comes to economics, love, or their definition of success. That latter one is what really bothers me. I can not rely on a single person to give me their definition of what is to make us content and happy. Because by the time you are fifty-one, there are fantasies that roll around in your mind of re-financing your home, going into debt, with no job security to replace the money you borrowed. All because your wife wants to spice up her life. 

 I was curious as to what would make her want to go through the struggle she had to endure. What made her want to come to America?

I had assumed she wanted to keep her children away from drugs.

Portugal was one of the first countries to adopt “Decriminalization,” of Drugs and invoked new policies on the country during 2008 that left some areas in a lurch. Towns demolished. Etc.

https://www.theguardian.com/news/2017/dec/05/portugals-radical-drugs-policy-is-working-why-hasnt-the-world-copied-it

http://www.foxnews.com/world/2010/12/26/portugals-drug-policy-pays-eyes-lessons.html

https://www.globaldetentionproject.org/countries/europe/Portugal

All three articles fail to address the “Why,” as to no one else will really adopt the notion:

According to Smartdrugpolicy.org consumption of all drugs has risen modestly—most notably for cocaine and heroin. Such policies therefore seem to be effective in reducing certain harms to society, namely those associated with addiction, but are less effective in curtailing consumption.

From what I know about her, she was looking for better. Still is really.

Women seek to cheat on their husbands for no other reason besides desiring to rid themselves of the stagnation that plagues their minds. I have a friend in France (J.S.), a creator like myself. When I have asked about her observations in her own country about the matters of the heart and man. Man being the “generalized,” term for humankind, she is filled with an empathetic energy that I like to seek guidance from.  Believing our hearts dictate our reason, not the other way around. She is partial to the French appetite regarding love. According to J.S; after the French Revolution her country really sought to separate the church from matters of state and the flaws of America lay in its inability to divide political principals from religious. She believes due to her age she wants loyalty all the time in a relationship and can’t have competition, but religion does not guide these thoughts, it has been replaced with entitlement.

 Then there is her friend who is a Rhodes Scholar who believes the “puritanical ethic,” is the cause of a lot of strife. She believes sex outside of marriage is fine if her husband does not find out and that men fail at this because they want to be caught. (This has yet to be proven. In truth a man would go along with anything if the woman outside of the marriage was willing to hold firm to the conditions set in the beginning and not willing to impede his marriage, which I have found to be a major issue.)

  The second woman is always in need of the encouragement of “love,” secured by the first wife. The moment she loses this security, which is prone to occur in these cases if she already has a weak esteem. It has been suggested, only women of weak esteem seek other mates, or the validation found in the ability to have more than one man. It is not always the man’s age of prowess in question, for surely the strength of the woman is built upon its own merit and has a certain radiance when coupled with a man’s. What you might call chemistry.  

 Loyalty, whether we are religious, Rhodes Scholars, promiscuous, male, female, French or American, each of us desire the honesty that comes with trust, truth, virtue, compassion, love.

These wonderful words that are ensured in the private moments of the night and released in one climatic moment of ecstasy.

Wars, new and old have been fought over the bed chamber before. I am of course thinking of David and Beth Sheba. It is this recognition of how far we would go for those moments of love making that burn our fingers as we dial the phone for that sweet taboo kept hidden. Each woman has an inner knowing of how precious those moments are, they share with a man and that is why each would go to such lengths to ensure who ever they chose to take as a bed partner is loyal to their whim. Why would they then believe a man incapable of similar desires? The moment he tells a woman, “you can’t tell anyone about our rendezvous,” his life is in her hands and he is forever to trust she does not have a moment of “puritanical awaking,” this sense of compassion or loyalty to the man’s wife, to tell the truth and cause a “Gulf War,” in his home; his castle, his security.

 After the devastation has been caused, does the woman, charged with keeping quiet, console the man? No, she loses all sense of respect, trust of devotion and finds his tears and heart break over the lose of his past secure life before her to have been wasted and makes for a very weak man indeed; and no matter what they may say to encourage their hearts, no woman, French, American, Portuguese, can abide a vulnerable man.

  The most entertaining part of the “high-horsed,” Trina, she saw nothing wrong with ridiculing her husband for looking at porn and releasing built up tension that occurs when she for a year refused to sleep in the same bed with him. She saw herself as saving him from the devil by refusing to allow him to listen to rock and roll or to curse. With her sword of righteousness, she found every flaw and would cut him down to size, tempting his wrath and when he did explode, she would rebuke the Devil and his control over her husband. “Why would she remain married to a man that was tempted of the Devil?”  Well the bible clearly speaks against divorce and demands women to accept the callous behavior of their husbands who refuse to stomach the ridicule of a woman who no longer find them attractive.

As a boy I was always upset with the notion of married women becoming upset with their husbands “wandering eye,” or private porn activities, as a grown man, I’ve become angered at the idea that someone is sent to prison for watching porn and not participating but for the purchase and retrieval of what has clearly been the way of the world since the 1500’s.

 The woman, never for a minute, would be caught with another man or defiling her eyes with the eroticisms produced by others. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she has ventured from time to time or desired to and allowed her husband the freedom to choose her over another aside from the choice made under threat of losing a member.    Would it not be better to allow the drift? One or the other will have to raise the question, “Am I not enough for you, and if so won’t you release me?”  

Of course, such civility is impossible among those who feel each, due to the bond of marriage, posses, the other. (Does the man, not posses the woman, in marriage?)  No, not in an ideal marriage, as I said before in the case of Trina, each came to an agreement of terms and conditions and when one of the other fails, they seek to separate, in hopes the other will miss them enough to appreciate what each has to offer. It is odd, it is from an archaic system of marriage, developed from a time when socially woman has few rights, but in the home ruled with an iron will. I do believe they call such women, “Fishwives.”

For me, there is an aspect in the modern woman that I hope all women can acquire, “Not to presume marriage is a “ball and chain,” and you have to do everything the husband says and your wrong for voicing an opinion.” Nope, in fact marriage is a partnership and this woman should work as much as the man. Not a single Christian will deny this fact, if they have any common sense. What is wrong is the belief marriage is economically balanced.

It is not, and won’t ever be and to delude ourselves, sets women off to sleeping around and having the Gaul to say, “Prenup,” or “I want my half,” or “What’s yours is mine and what is mine is mine.”

Infringement will be met with force and how could a woman disagree, did she not marry for protection and security? Who better to save the woman from herself than her Knight and Shining Armor?  

"Hide and Seek," and "Mountian Pass," were two pieces of art buitl upon the innocence of love, between man and woman. An innocence that as I continue to listen to modern music, or watch the interaction of modern man, is completely lost to them.

It is a pretty sad notion, if I ever heard on.

I can't speak for every nook and cranny of our earthen cities but I can speak on the few I have had the privlage to interact with and their thoughts on what it takes to achieve the "fantasy," described by:

Bobby Darin, Doris Day, Tony Braxton, Babby Face, Jim Croce, Ray Charles, Frank Senatra, the list goes on, from 1973 until....

Well I wish I could say until this very day, but I don't hear it on the radio, I have not seen it in movies. I picked up a comic book just the other day, hoping to find signs of an ancient idea. At least foreign to this present generation.

I think the closest we've come to holding onto the notion of love between man and woman is Fleetwood Mac with their song "Dreams." It takes them a while to get over the slurred language but in the midst of the her drowning, you can find the desire for love from somoen other than herself.

  The black community had denied the sexes for a while now, I suppose the last time I head a really good love song was Bleeding Love, but I could not stand the title and I am sure that's what turned off others as well. "Love on the brain,' is an ok song as well for stolen material.

Why has love become so hard for people to sing about?

Now I did not want to believe that I was living in a bubble so I decided to ask those I know, what songs comes to mind when they see images as the two I have shared, "I have suffocated by now in wating for a response."

How is it that we can not respond to love?

I was really surprised to find that some found "Hide and Seek," to be explicit. and was not excepted in some gallaries. I was having trouble understanding why at first. I could not figure out if the notion of her in a bra hding amoung the trees was too much for our modest society. Then I remembered Victoria Secret, Tyra Banks and so many other woman that have made a name for themselves in the brightest of fourms and no one called them "explicit."

What has changed?

How could an image, virtually innocent by our modern standards be deemed too explicit?

Is it because it protrays a "real,' love, something obtainable and heartfelt by all? Has reality become,, "explicit?"

Death Cab for Cutie's song Soul meets body is one song that arrived nearly eight years ago that is unisexual and did well to present love for everyone and allowed those in a room to have the freedom to love who they chose, spoken well of by Kamala Devi Harris of Oakland CA. (Now she was born in 1964. So she would be familar with most of my initial discussion and with all of her talk about supporting "FREE LOVE," I am sure she too misses the influence derived from songs sung by Sade- By YOUR SIDE and the Sweetest Taboo.

I am one lone artist and I dare say I'd be hard pressed to craft a variety of "love," for our present generation that compliments our classically accepted sense of the word, amoung groups who have determined, "heterosexual," sex to be politically incorrect or plainly more explicit than any other variety of relations between people.

I should not find it odd that many feminsits have taken kindly to my approach on the relations between man and woman. I do though. I have always found it interesting when a feminist asks me to aid her in the cause of the woamn from the stand pioint of "Love from a man," because I was always certain their anger toward "patriacies," would make loving a man superfical at best. Finding sa long as the man can assist in the economic or social security of the woman he is entitled to "love." Any mention outside of this becomes a taint to the 'normal," progressive order devised by such groups.Eliminating the purity found in the word, "love," which true to it's origins suggests, In the midst of sickness, or health, poverty, or wealth, one will be their for the other. A bond that is forged from youthful excursions such as "Hide and Seek," and presented in the whimsical ryhmes of the Mulberry tree.