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Thoughts and stories from the veiw point of an eccentric and eratic orbit.

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Friday, December 30, 2005

7th Avenue 5:55 am

Curious time,the early hours of the day. Posted by Picasa Wondering the streets of Hoquiam at this time of day odd thoughts come to me...like this prayer:

Dear God,
Please don't let a stray rotweiller chew off my genitals
And don't let my arms be pulled off by a threshing machine
Don't let me crash on the freeway mangling my legs and causing massive irreperable brain damage, paralyzing me for life so I can't move, clean myself or go to the bathroom normally.
Don't let me be stabbed in the head or be captured by a sadistic serial killer who tortures me in his basement.
Don't let my building collapse in a horrific earthquake trapping me, all my bones broken and split, smothered so that I can barely breathe, my life slowly seeping out of me.
Please keep my skin from burning, don't let me go blind, don't let me be shot, slashed or bludgeoned to death.
Don't let any of my organs fail on me, don't let my bones snap for any reason, don't let my skull be fractured or my eyes get accidentally punctured, don't let anyone I love die or get sick, don't let me become homeless, don't let me lose all my possessions, don't let me be arrested or executed, don't let me be raped (I fear that even as a man) or assaulted, don't let me be hit by a car, don't let me get liver cancer, don't let me get old and sick and helpless and just don't let anything BAD happen to me, please please please.
And in exchange for this, I will try to be a better person.
Amen.

Then I realized I am an atheist or maybe an agnostic, I don't know*...what a strange thing to do, pray, an be thus...prehapes I should drift home.
*See?

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Hoquiam is very Dull and Westport ain't much better.

hoquiam is dull Posted by Picasa
I mean come on people...Where is all the weird sex and drugs?

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Depression Expression


I am often asked how I manage to be so dark and theatrically morose both consistently and continuously. How is it I manage to achieve a professional level of melancholy? What methods do I use to destroy friendships, cripple relationships and castrate career opportunities with such fatal efficiency ?
Well, just like drunks and junkies I have a program. Mine however is a little different for unlike their “12 step” programs my program is a “13 step” one and therefore better. It has one more step than theirs does and more is always an improvement over less. Spinal Taps’ Nigel knew this when he said “These go up to eleven…” I will now, for the first time in a public forum, share this methodology.
1. Isolate yourself. Pull down the shades and don't let any light in. Don't answer the phone. Take off all your clothes and just stay inside and don't talk to anyone. Lay on the floor of your closet and weep softly. Don't shave for 3 days, then stare in the mirror at your own bloated, pasty, bleary-eyed expression.
2. Fixate on negative things. Television is a good source for this. Watch TV news programs all the time. Tape the most disturbing ones and watch them again and again. Fixate on 'mistakes' you've made in the past, or painful childhood memories. Cultivate a sense of self-hatred. Start a collection of disturbing pornographic images and look at them obsessively. Feel guilty for doing this.

3. Cultivate a sense of meaninglessness. Take up wall-staring as a hobby. Take a bath and then spend an hour or two staring at the bathtub drain as you listen to the sound of our own breathing. Pound your head rhythmically against the cold white refrigerator door as you moan plaintively. Lay in bed in a fetal position and rock back and forth. Watch 'Pink Floyd--The Wall' obsessively. Load up the CD changer with The Smiths, NIN and The Cure, be sure to set it on shuffle and repeat before you hit play. Also if you like to read, the complete works of Poe and Lovecraft should be handy but don’t limit yourself. Specific books by other writers I recommend reading are Wuthering Heights, On the Beach, Slaughterhouse Five and Catch 22.

4. Alienate others. Ask questions but don't listen to the answers. Become absorbed in your own inner little world. Act rude and insensitively and then blame the consequences on other people or better yet, take it as evidence of your own lack of worth. Randomly cross clearly drawn personal boundaries, then beat yourself up for doing so. Lose your temper unpredictably or weep uncontrollably in order to manipulate others. Hate yourself for doing this.

5. Sleep all the time. Get a good 20 hours a day of sleep. This way you won't have to deal with a painful life and only have to deal with the world of dreams and fantasies. Remember, your bed is your friend and will always sustain and comfort you unlike the cruel outside world. If you have trouble with this there are various sleep aid drugs and medicines available not to mention booze. A combination of the two can only equal success. The more drugs and alcohol you consume the better your decision making ability will be.

6. Avoid all physical activity. Again, staying in bed is good for this. Try to stay on your back at all times. Lying on the floor is acceptable too. Get a good fetal position going. Whine pathetically to yourself. Watch more violent television programming. Keep the TV remote control by the bed at all times so you won't have to get up and look for it.

7. Eat poorly. In a 24 hour period eat a half spoonful of peanut butter, some jelly, and some water. Spend the rest of the time sleeping. Eat all your meals at fast food places, ordering the unhealthiest thing on the menu. Eat hot dogs from 7-11 for all your meals. Avoid salads. Drink as little water as possible, it will only cause you to have to get out of bed to urinate.

8. Whenever possible, cultivate a sense of fear in your life. Be sure to obsessively imagine the most violent and disturbing outcome to any situation. Routinely imagine escape routes in case an armed maniac starts shooting at you. Freak yourself out! Contact all your friends and tell them you are freaking out then feel guilty and unworthy of the attention they give you. Be hard on yourself! And encourage others to be hard as well.

9. Think about death a lot. Rent 'Faces of Death' videos. Browse rotten.com. Watch more violent television programming. Try to look at life as a violent and painful experience at the end of which is just a meaningless and probably excruciating death. Talk about suicide and disturbing things in order to alienate others (see #4).

10. Always pick the hardest way to do something. Set yourself up for failure. If it looks like you are going to actually succeed at something, be sure to somehow sabotage your own efforts and change course or stop at the last minute. Use your failure as further proof to yourself that you are a worthless loser. Repeat the words "I'm so stupid" to yourself over and over and over.

11. Lose all sense of personal hygiene. Don't bathe until a grey cheeselike substance forms on your skin. Shave once a week, and then without using shaving cream or aftershave. Throw your deodorant away. Remember, if you make yourself physically attractive it will only attract people who will then see what a horrible person you are. Use other people's avoidance of you as evidence of your own worthlessness.

12. Concentrate on your faults. Look in the mirror closely. Focus on every bump, zit, wrinkle, or nick you have on your face. Look at how skinny you are, or how fat. If something is less than perfect be sure to focus all your attention on it and think about it constantly. Think obsessively about every stupid thing you do or have ever done. Enlist the help of others and then feel unworthy of it. Drive yourself into a nervous breakdown.

13. Quit your job, stay home and jack off. Masturbate obsessively and feel guilty for doing so. Be sure to think all manner disturbing thoughts and then use this as proof that you are worthless and deranged. Stop taking any care of your personal surroundings. Spend plenty of time in your messy and slovenly environment. Remember always, You Are A Bad Person. Bad bad bad bad bad!
------
Hear are some testimonials from people who have used my plan for personal pain and misery.
"I have tried your 13 step program and have found much success with it.Previous to your program, I was a smiley faced, well balanced, enlightened, self actualized individual. Now I look more like that guy in Edward Munch's "The Scream" Steve Sprunt: Shreveport, Louisiana
"Oh God, just let me die. Please. God. I just want to die. Please"Judy Frapper: Trent, New Jersey
"THANKS! I was slipping, but with your handy guidelines I should be able to stay more miserable, longer! Your step-by-step guide has helped me lose all my friends and self esteem. Utter darkness, here I come!" Beverly Dinklesworth: Portland, Oregon
"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"David Steinblatt, San Jose, California
(Hysterical sobbing)Warren Serbia: Topeka, West Virginia
“DON’T LOOK AT ME!!! DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!”
Olive Grape, Douglasville, Georgia

U.F.O.s


U.F.O.s
Space. The final frontier.
Right?
Well maybe, but not in the way you might think.
My long time friend Mike and I share interest in amateur astronomy. That’s Astronomy folks not Astrology. One of our favorite ongoing debates revolves around extraterrestrial life. Simply put, Mike holds it is likely and I do not. Neither Mike nor I believe in the UFO’s or “Grays” as they are often called by enthusiast. Our debate centers on that rarity or commonality of recognizable life in the universe. We spend hours of friendly argument on the subject. Normally after many beers and post our Baseball vs. Hockey discussion. The debate continues though he lives on the east coast and I on the west coast. Although not as often as it once did. Some quotes from one of these debates are as follows (In spirit if not exactly).

“Mike your opinion only proves that you have the mind of a trilobite. You obviously spend too little time thinking and too much time watching Homosexual Trucker Porn.” might be one of my closing statements in our ongoing debate.

“What, Chris? It’s hard to understand you with that penis in your mouth” could well be Mikes reply.

The attitude of our dialogues is academic even if the language is not.

Fascination with possible alien life is not limited to any one social circle; you will find it almost every culture on the planet. Scientist and common citizen alike are interested. It is in American culture however that you will find its heart. Here is where you will find its origin and drive.

America where you will also find the greatest fear directed toward alien cultures in the western world. Quite a contrast. The same people who would welcome small green, gray or greenish-gray men’s arrival in dinner-ware shaped craft and embrace their wisdom are all to often the same people who cast the most venomous eye to the Mexican family that moved in across the street.

I had never really experienced this sort of racism in my travels until I settled into married life in North East Georgia. I was more familiar with common redneck anti-black sentiments common in the south (Though not an exclusively Southern bias by any measure) and the colloquial bigotry one finds in history books until that time in my life.

I moved into a subdivision in suburbia during the millennia scare a few years back before realizing what a remarkably stupid thing I had done and saw it full force in my face for the first time. Even in my own house hold "Mexicans" (although they were actually Colombians) were not spoken of kindly. At least in regards to their value as neighbors (As cheap labor at my then wife’s employment agency they were generally welcome so long as they had an acceptable attitude). I hate to admit it but as much as I like to think of myself as an enlightened individual I too carried more than a few bigoted attitudes that I am none to proud of these days.
Why do Americans have such a negative attitude towards foreigners and foreign culture? Why are we here in the United States so reluctant to welcome anybody from the third world, or for that matter, anywhere outside of our national borders? Not even Canadians are safe these days so I don’t think visitors from Neferon 6 are going to fare so well either.
I would ascribe it away to war time paranoia if it were not for the fact that it has been a prevalent attitude for almost as far back in our history as you care to look. This is puzzling considering we are a nation of immigrants, outcast, and dissident rebels. Yet we tolerate no new members into our club. Indians, savages, faggots, dikes, gooks, kikes, trash, white niggers (Wiggers), sand niggers, niggers. Now the ethnic classification dejour, spics ( all Hispanic and Latin people seem to be thrown into the kinder though equally ignorant category of "Mexicans") just to mention a few. All this xenophobia yet we are enamored of the idea of encountering life from another planet?

This fascination with life elsewhere applies right across the board regardless of intellect or social standing. You find it in the enthusiastic eyes of astrophysicist, the amateur intellectual, the mystical-minded new age crowd, and the Billy Bobs of the world. I don’t think most of us understand what that might imply. We are nowhere near as open-minded as we like to think we are.

Most Americans can’t handle variety within our own culture, Gay marriage being a fine example. Our historical dealings with Native Americans and civil rights are two others. I still know people in this enlighten part of the country, The Pacific North West, who still refer to the Asian-Americans at the local market as “gooks”. Variety in our own neighborhoods is a source of conflict and fear. How are we going to deal with a culture that developed independent of anything we would recognize from our “Earthly” cultures?

What if they think eating their young is acceptable (For example) if said young died of natural causes?
Planetary xenophobia aside, everyone in his or her own way seems to be looking forward to “First Contact”. It seems like nowadays you can't throw a rock without hitting somebody who has some sort of UFO experience (Sorry Zach) of some kind or at least an opinion about it. As life on this planet swirls in an ever-increasing speed down the toilet, I guess it is no wonder that we've become more and more fixated with this notion of life elsewhere. To me it all sounds more like we are looking for an outlet of escape not an opportunity to broaden the culture horizons. In justification of my opinion about that speculation, take note that the UFO culture basically began in the 50s when we saw an astronomical increase in the number of UFO sightings. The 50’s were a time of fear and paranoia in our society. It has thrived ever since. In fact, before 1947 there were next to no reports of UFOs. It was that year a former military pilot reported an encounter with what he described as a craft of unknown appearance and properties. It was a mysterious almost supernatural experience as he described it. It also gave us one of the most powerful icons of the phenomena, the term “Flying Saucer” comes from his description of the mysterious vehicles appearance.
Is it just a coincidence that everyone began to see flying saucers about the same time everyone began seeing Communists? I think not. World War II was over and we needed something new to fear. New enemies were needed to fuel our war economy and give us focus now that the old bad guys had been absolutely thrashed and to confront the new "Enemy" (The Communist specifically the Soviet Union) openly and aggressively would mean absolute unilateral obliteration in a fission/fusion fiesta. As a society, we had switched from pre-WWII isolationist to a fearful and paranoid cold-war people.In 1947, something crashed in Roswell, New Mexico. There was some confusion and incompetence involved and folks began to talk. Some believe that the “something” that crashed in that rural local was a weather balloon. Fools! This was the obvious theory of those willing to believe silly unlikely things. I’ll bet they are skeptical of Big Foot too! Others more logically clam it was an alien craft that crashed in Roswell. These people also claim four aliens were discovered among the debris at the sight. They further claim that the remains of said creatures and the flying saucer bits are being held in an Air Force installation 100 miles north of Las Vegas. This installation is of course the notorious Area 51.
Some UFO-ologists insist that the four aliens accidentally crashed their own flying saucer. Other insist it was shot down by the U.S. air force.
Yeah, these scenarios seem likely.
These beings could build a craft that can travel millions of light years, dodging black holes, gamma ray burst, dark matter and stray TIE fighters. They could navigate this craft to the remote American dessert through the vast depths of the Cosmos, laughing at Einstein the whole trip. However, those New Mexico telephone poles can be pretty tricky to navigate after a few bottles of Venusian Vodka but at least they slightly more benign than a prop driven air force p-51 Mustang fighter plane! Then again it’s always the little things that bring about the fall of the mighty, ask Clinton about Monica if you doubt this theory. Guess that particular strained analogy would be better titled” It’s always the Chubby, big breasted intern that bring about the fall of the mighty however (It could be applied to Anthony and Cleopatra as well).I don't mean anything negative about that. I personally think Monica was Hottie and was very disappointed that Playboy didn't give her a spread. After all they let that social barnacle Carney between there pages (Of course that was after she had 200 pounds cut out of her and an additional 55 pounds of ego implanted).
I personally think two of the four aliens might have survived the wreck, escaped from Area 51 and made it to Vegas where they have been doing nine shows a week under the name Siegfried and Roy! It seems more likely to me than Siegfried and Roy being of mere Earthly origins.True believers say that Area 51 is definitely hiding something because if you go there, they won't let you in and they won't tell you what they have there. I have some enlightening thoughts to share about that observation. It's a fucking military installation! Do you think that if you go to Areas 1 through 50 you're going to get a Chardonnay and some Gouda? No, you're not! You're going to get turned away faster than Michael Moore trying to get backstage at Bushes State of the Union address.
Also, some believe that there is an authentic film of an autopsy on one of the Roswell aliens. This documentary was brought to the public eye in a well-known television special. Likely, by the same journalistic team that brought us the Al Capone’s vault debacle.
I saw this documentary when it aired on Fox. I believe it was sandwiched between a very special "Martin" and "Party of Five." I thought the autopsy was as about as authentic as a piece of total shit can be. Now, in addition to the Area 51 freaks, there are those who legitimize the existence of aliens vis-à-vis the appearance of crop patterns that resemble the symbol that Prince used as his name in the wild old 90’s, etched onto various crop fields about greater "Boon-dockia" (My country of origin by the way).
All right, occasionally bizarre patterns can be seen if you and Billy Bob, the crop duster, fly over these fields. Some say they’re messages to humanity or landing markers for aliens; I say it's Uncle Joe with a gut full of grain alcohol and a Weedwacker. It could also be those guys who came forward a few years back and said they did it. You know the same guys who went on to show how they did it, barely containing their laughter as they explained their methods and motives.Another core-ingredient of UFO studies is the abduction by aliens. Under hypnosis the abductees recollections all share the same characteristics; long stretches of time unaccounted for, strange bruises on the body, a suspicion of sexual violation. Is it just me or do most alien abduction tales sound amazingly like spring break stories? My buddy Scott from New Jersey tells similar stories that are not only more interesting but occasionally have photographic documentation to back up spotty memory. Listen, I don’t mean to sound so cynical. It's a natural tendency to look skyward for the salvation and answers to our prayers. This is why we invented religions and God so long ago.
People ascribe to religion in blind emotional need. It is said by some the answers within ourselves are to fighting sometimes, better to put the responsibility on a faceless entity. So too it is why people place faith in the flying saucer people. Just as good citizens go to their churches to worship invisible sky beings on Sundays so too the lunatic fringe flock to the holy grounds of previous UFO activity and UFO conventions; in the hope that when the inevitable mass landing does happen the star gods who have replaced earthly imaginings, will first want to get in touch with the mentally unstable among us. UFO conventions are the purist-defining events of the UFO culture. They are unique experiences. They are a real paradise of emotional need and general psychosis. Not since the Pope and Cardinal O'Connor spoke to a symposium of nuns catered by the Amish has so little sexual experience been assembled in one place as these events. Unless we want to discuss Mikes dating history for the previous decade. Only Star Trek conventions can rival them. It should also be noted that many of the same people attend both. Mike doesn’t if he is to be believed, maybe he should, I could see him scoring with some emotionally scared “Deep Space Nine” babe. Hey, look just because I do not buy into a belief in alien intelligence as these clowns present it, don’t think I believe in Earthly intelligence either. There is precious little evidence of that around as well. Honestly, I would be delighted to be proven wrong about space men. I'd be the first one to welcome aliens, because frankly, I'm running out of people to criticize on this planet. Despite the barnacles of cynicism, which resolutely encrust my hull, I do believe that there is life other than ours somewhere other than Earth.
Hear that Mike? You win.
I just don't think they have been here! I don't know who they are or what they drive, but I can’t image that interstellar travel to be as easy as a trip to visit my Pop. Difficulties aside the question remains why would they stop here? To an extraterrestrial from a civilization millions of years more advanced than us, Planet Earth at best would be like the Vince Dooley rest stop along HWY 316. Chances are they stop off here every now and then to try to stretch their tiny, gray limbs, pick up a some beef jerky and take a leak out of one of their 29 penises. Chances are we are not a target destination.
However on the off-chance that there are super-advanced alienbeings out there and they are as the X-files crowd has described them to be, I have a message for you, listen up.
“Kaldar of Ramoula-Five! When you do come here and abduct one of us, stay out of our asses! There's nothing in our asses that will help you and your dying planet! Life is tough enough without you ‘Proctonauts’ downing a couple cases of cheap beer and getting your moon rocks off checking on Jethro's exhaust pipe.” Oh and “We want Elvis Back, Take Paris Hilton instead.” I think she may be one of yours anyway.
This is Christopher Stone, signing off; Star-Date: July 1 2005.

"X"mas with the Zinzers

Posted by Picasa X-Mas At The Zinzer’s

Christmas at 511 K.

While it’s true that I’ve never been exactly a traditial person, when it comes to the Christmas season I do stick to the more conservative ways.

There was a time before I had my last crisis of faith and concluded that I was an atheist that I placed a spiritual spin on the Christmas season That and the familiarities of family /friends always lent a cheerful mood to the season for me. Yes I went to midnight mass ate entirely to much and left cookies and milk out for Santa. In 2001 things changed. My last few Christmases have been less than cheerful and far from the traditional holiday path I followed most of my life.

Christmas was marked by the separation from my fist wife (and more importantly my son Max) and the cancer that consumed my mother.

I spent that Christmas Eve of that year with my former friend Matthew a bottle of scotch and a small sprig of a pine tree pulled from the backyard of Matthew and Mike’s house. The Christmas following that one I spend wandering the streets of Athens, Georgia in a begreived, homeless, drunken blur. Ho Ho Ho

2003 was considerably better though far from the merry scene one tends to except thanks too turn of the century Coke advertisements and Norman Rockwell calendars. I spent it alone in my classic divorce’ studio apartment illuminated by a 24 inch fake tree from Eckerd’s. My Christmas spirit being another bottle of scotch although being a cheaper one.

The next December brought a Christmas season that was a decided improvement over the previous years. It was the first I spent in Washington State with my new fiancé and her father. We had few presents but we ate well had a very merry time and pretty much all the more familiar trappings of the season were present.

This year finds me sitting on the couch comfy and warm watching “It’s a wonderful life” with Shanzi here once again in her fathers house. A cozy fire warms our skin and the shared contents of a well packed bong warms our mood. Not exactly Norman Rockwell but a little closer to Frosty The Snowman, White Christmas, and Jingle Bells than our earlier partaking of horror movies. The mood is merry and the spirit is high and so are we, thanks for asking. There’s no scotch present for me to cry into as a matter of fact I don’t drink often or very much anymore. I almost never smoke marijuana but I feel a little different about it tonight. I’m in a good mood and the smiles come easily. Despite all my efforts to be depressed I feel myself in a deck the halls kind of mood and more than just a bit cheerfully sentimental.

It’s been years since I had the stomach to watch Frank Cappras 1946 classic but Shanzi has never seen it so I think that changes things. Its nice. I don’t think I’ll be in the mood to sit through NLC vacation as I once did with Matthew.. Guess I haven’t grown that far yet. But at the same time I am open to being something other than a scrooge this year.

Amid my atheistic ponderings, Shanzi’s quest for meaning and a meaningless universe and Bruce’s UFO driven new age disparities (Bruce is presently printing "Orgoan" generators off of the internet to create positive mojo) not mention the occasional cloud of mind altering smoke there is something very much of worth and definitely Christmas-ie. Tonight reminds me of Christmas eves long before my fall from grace nights like Christmas eve 2000 when I tucked my little 6 month old son Max away to bed so that I could sneak off and play Santa for the first time. Christmas Eve’s not so far removed in spirit from those I recall of my youth under my grandmothers roof.

So I yes I may have to smile through my teeth as I listen to the explaination of the finer points of our alien visitors message for humanity. A happy warm loving atmosphere prevails here tonight and isn’t that kind of what everyone wants in Christmas. I don’t feel so silly or stupid as my eyes tear up when George finds Zu Zu’s petals “my mouth’s bleedin, Bert, my mouth’s bleedin” I even ponder angelic promotions when I brush the tree in passing and a faint jingle catches my ear despite the fact there isn’t a bell to be found within the tree’s great green span.

Maybe next year instead of a pyramind power hat, I might just wear a Santa hat.

Self portrait in rebllion and exile

Please pass the ketchup, I think it's gonna rain.

Oh, I am a vain one. I know that I am not a stunning handsom slice of beef. Indeed, I am more like Woody Allen than say George Clooney. That has never been a source of stress in my life nor stopped me from acting as though I were a great deal better looking than I am. I believe that a large part of how people "see" you is in how you present yourself so I try to carry on a bit larger than is my lot even when I actually feel pretty tiny. My Mother and Grandmother instilled the philosophy that the value of anything and anyone is always greater than the sum of it's parts. This aided the blooming of a roboust sense of pride within my character. This pride is without a doubt dangerous and often false but in proper measure and application it has also served to preserve me at hopes end. That pride has battled guilt and fear and loathing all my life. It has defeated monsters and built kingdoms in my life. It has driven me to attempt to live up to a standard beyond myself (I am selfish more often than I care to admit). When I have failed to meet that standard I have lied, conned and deceived so no one would think I pocessed a self worth I did not deserve. In the end I have learned pride does not ask such actions of me and I need nothing other than to be who I am to deserve it's company.

Thanks Mom.
Thanks Granny.
I love and miss you both this December. Posted by Picasa

Shanzi


This is a photograph of Shanzi. Shanzi is my fiance though I normaly refer to her as my wife. The reason I do that is because I hate expaining to people why we are not married. The picture is the first image of any kind I ever saw of her before I actually met physical form.It remains one of my favorite photographs of Shanzi. I will not say that her boobs didn't catch my eye in a way as big as her bra size but it is her smile that I find so special in this photo and in my life. It betrays nothing of the extreme complexity that lay hidden behind that innocent and charming face. It is not a mask of decpetion or a veil to conceal but rather more like a kind word. It is ment to lend comfort and delight.

So it does.

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Kiss my Glass


Me. I rather like this photo of myself. It was taken at my friend Drew's apartment in Athens. Drew, a fellow artist, introduced me to working in glass. I have to say his creations are impressive and his perspectives changed my own craft.
That object in my hand is a glass work of mine that I am also rather pleased with. If you can see into the orb inside the bowl, you will see a real flower inside the blown glass. that is a real flower with the bubble of glass at the center.
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More on this later...
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Please stand by...

December 26, 2005.
Hoquiam WA, just East of Hells Ass-Hole.
Winds 10-15 kmh E, local Temprature ~38 F, Conditions wet and crabby.
I am Christopher, a vain, petty, little man with a few remarkable tricks to my name and a huge dsyfunctional chip on my shoulder. I am not as dis-likable as that description might lead one to assume but it will suffice for an opening entry until my mood improves.
I have decided to create this particular blog to serve as a semi-biographical journal and as soap box enviroment for some of my many personal opionions and perspectives.
I doubbt this blog will be read by many people, indeed it is likely not to be read by anyone but myself and Shanzi (My "wife for a lack of a more appropriat term). That however is irelevent as I am creating this principley for my own egocentric agenda.
This is Christopher, The Grey Mouse, signing out.
12/27/2005 2:15 am PST

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