The Man Behind the Hand
Friend took this picture of me with my camera. Wanting to float free, I then chopped, blended and stirred it into what you see. And what you see is not what you get. And so that you don't forget. Me. I'll save you a click on Flick, for the mile high profile behind the man. And the hand . . .
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TYPE O-riginal hybrID:
[ this is NOT a typo, this is NOT A TEST, do NOT turn off your broadcast reception system ]
- Ocean bred > Hawaii roots, San Diego branches.
- English is my 2nd language. I do not have a 1st.
- Though monolingual (UN counting Pacific Islander Pidgin English), I do understand 'Somewhere In the Middle', 'Black & White', 'Gray', and of course, the much maligned and classically misunderstood 'Nonsensical', appreciating its DNA duality of simple / deep destruction of the allusive illusory. Translation: Skilled in Confusion Milked Past illUsion.
- Thanks to an attention spent deficiting the Unknown for decades, my vocabulary is limited to 300 words. Endlessly interchanged in intergalactic ways skooled and tooled illegal in an Alieny kinda way.
- I am NOT selfish because I have not made babies (yet) that I know of [note: unoriginal, obligatory 10 macho points just made]. I am selfish because I sell fish. That smells like B.S. (B.eyond S.imple). And I spend too much time on it. And I believe it. My own. And I own it. All thanks to 1 year. In kindergarten (mahalo Ms. Nishimura; even if you never married me). And thanks to Being 66 at Age 6. Disclaimer: DON'T try this at home. This is done by PROFESSionals in controlled settings.
- I am not NOT a professional.
- If ever I reach for a Ph.D, the cover page of my thesis will read: 'WHATEVER' by Keo 101.
- I once asked a woman if she had any children. She said, "No." To which I replied, "That you know of." She did NOT laugh.
DABBLING IN: Spoken Word poetry, abstract painting, corniness, photography, word creation, and dream manipulation. 2Infinity. Being my zip-code. Being. Zipped by this load.
Sip on this Bonus Bio Code:
Creatures great and small. Smiles churched upside down. Homeless on the town. Stereotypes gowned clown. Grown ups playing house on co-op'd playground. Grounded caffeinated spirituality Gone Wild. A lifetime pledge to NEVER utter the word beseech; cause I hate Shakespeare. Though I love pears. Though I hate spears; though I have fave'd at least 4 songs by one Britney Spears. Just when we were going Somewhere, politics neutered by The Decaf Party. Discussions drowned in skin toned striations versed red, Right and blues. EQUALs All things obsessing me via 24/7 hues. Smellin' of 7-Eleven booze; Colt 45 coated like (un) Reality T-V scripted in oxyMoron, slavin' like oxyCotton repurposed to cut off Peter's tale. Till you turn it off. Then you till it, then you kill it - - the machinated, media fertilized seeds dug Machine Jonesin' deep, The Dream we collectively keep. Layin' an ILLusion lyin' lion that makes me oh so WEep. Don't even get me started; less you have the minutes of 100 Monopoly games. Less you're ready to give up Boardwalk 100x without even tryin.' Less you're ready for fryin' of your mindin' by my free flowin' stream of consciousness rhymin.' I'm just sayin.'
And what I'm sayin' is: that I'm dangerous. to myself and Otherz. Because Cuz, let me break it down and boldly yell: BORED I DO NOT GET. Including staring at a blanco wall. Both a blessin' & Double D downfall (believe me, you don't want it). Thoughts kite flyin' border f-r-e-e, limited only by this vessel called Me. Results of which I'll only truly see in divinity; a mysterY where I can finally just . . . Be. Hopefully.
Until that fate, eye create.