The above article in the Washingtonpost just makes me livid. That, with the recent news that the Military Morality
Police folks are trying to push out Playboy and push in convicted violent felons to bolster the
ranks... *sigh*
No wonder i get headaches when reading headlines. I must need glasses, because i just can't
see how our country got it's head so far up it's ass.
The stat counter at the top of this page - the hard
to read bar of green numbers - keeps track of where visitors come from, in addition to when and how often, etc. For
example: I can see that my friend in Florence, Italy was checking out my art while we chatted online. I can also see
that someone from the department of Immigration and Naturalization Services in Washington, DC spent a whopping 5 minutes
and 45 seconds on here. Do i know someone at the INS? Are they a fan? Does The Man have some beef with me? Only time
will tell.
Dear Uncle Sam:
SIGN THE FREAKIN' GUESTBOOK!
Love, Bob
all
i ever wanted all i ever needed is here, in my arms o/`
I've fixed the bad link to archive pages 126-150 in the comic. I wrongly assumed
that changing a page .html name would change the links to it throughout the site. Won't make that mistake twice.... i'm
also considering moving the archive page link to the footer, so i don't have to update it again on each cluster page,
but i'm not sure i want to clutter up the bottom of the site with more than the donation button.
Speaking of,
it works, so... um.. if you would like to throw a little change at me, it'd be immensely appreceated. I'll return
the favor by throwing art at you. I'll make something original just for donors. I don't mean to beg, certainly.
I'm just not situated job-wise up here, and that don't mean shit to the student loan vultures.
I'm finally
enrolled at Alpena Community College, as a full time student! That has it's own heap of bills associated with
it, but atleast I'm back in the game. AND with the credits from UM coming through, I should be able to get my associates
in 2 semesters (Plus winter or summer term). After that, look out, cause i may be coming to your town! ;]
Other News: In the "recent bin" at the top of the page, I've uploaded some of the illustrations
from around my old home and new: Cherry Blossoms from the DC tidal basin, and some quick looks at the harbor/marina
on THUNDER BAY! in downtown Alpena. The red and green light houses aren't done yet (being sketched, that is), but i was
interrupted by a large black cloud of millions of flies and gnats that decided I was the place to be. Specifically, my
face, ears, eyes... yuck. I'll go back, perhaps on a very cold day, to finish. Fortunately, colored pencils aren't
affected by temperature.
In an attempt to get in better shape (although, arguably round and squishy is valid
geometry), I've started doing pushups and crunches on a daily or alternate daily basis. I do 5 sets of 10 each, switching
between the two...and man, do my muscles not like that. ;p
I read today in the Washington Post - and again at
Rawstory - that the United States government is selectively ignoring the Geneva Conventions in regards to torture
and treatment of prisoners. Creativly re-defining what it means to torture, based on context. Torture for one isn't
torture for another.
Think about that a hot second. If you're thought to be a threat, you might be tortured
by our very own government, held without trial in conditions the ASPCA wouldn't allow for animals, for... ever.
No rights to contact people, no recourse to question evidence against you... nothing. You're gone.
Start
with "waterboarding", the most often heard of form of 'coercive interrogation' that you see in the news
today.
If my friend a Marine stationed in Oki, or another friend, an Army soldier over in Iraq was captured, held
down and had water poured into his face to simulate drowning for the purposes of interrogation, we would (and HAVE, as in
the case of War Crimes trials after WWII) declared that whomever did that was engaging in torture. That simple: Torture
is a crime.
unless...
The United States government deems you to be a person of enough interest,
holding enough intelligence, that same activity is now called an "advanced interrogation technique". It's now redefined
as not torture. If that doesn't scare the Red White and Blue out of you, I don't know what will.
If you can justify the same activities being torture for one person, and NOT torture for someone else, I would not suggest
leaving the security of America's borders. Everyone else in the world calls that War Crimes. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/27/AR2008042700016.html?hpid=moreheadlines
I challenge anyone there to justify this crime - which, according to the UN it is - to me. Right here on my guestbook,
go right ahead and say why it's ok to torture people (because it isn't torture) and that you would be ok with the
same thing happening to you (because it isn't torture, remember?)
I cannot stand for this, not in my country. I don't want my friends to fight and die for my freedom, when
horrors are commited in it's name.
Did YOU vote for this?
Bad:
Have any of you heard
of food rationing? What if you were told that you couldn't buy what you thought you needed, because it simply wasn't
there?
Customers are having their purchases of bags of rice limited at "big box" stores like Sam's
Club. It's just a little thing now (how many of you really need to buy more than one 30 pound bag of rice at a time?)
but like thunderclouds on the horizon, it's a bad portent of things to come.
I don't feel like posting
links to that at the moment. I'm sure you can find it.
GOOD:
Enough of the gloom... I want
to say a particular "hihihi" to Sarah P. and Brittany R. and thank them for being so very kind and welcoming to
a stranger like me. A little bird told me they've been enquiring as to my well being since the ending
of the variety show I dived into hours after moving. Everyone has been more kind and generous than I have seen in my home
of DC (although there, I have the love and support of many exceptions that prove the rule).
Today is going to be a long one: Tech starts at 11am for the show "Man 1, Bank 0" by Patrick
Combs.
I will reserve comment on the production, as I have only read the script. Needless to say, I've
been up to my junk in it for a couple of days, and there's still more focus of lights to do (front stage wash, split sL/sR,
4 gobo specials), ALL the cues need to be written, stage needs to be dressed... and any help that comes in, i get to train
on the fly.
Just another day as a stage ninja. Dig it. ;]
If you are what you say you are, a Superstar Then have no fear... The crowd is here and the lights are low and they want a show, oh oh oh.... yeah
I don't like tests. I always freak out about not knowing what i think i should, studying the wrong things, and then
just making it up as i go. This usually only applies to Math.
My english/writing/reading scores -so i was
told- were among the highest they've seen. That's always encouraging to hear, and hopefully with the transcripts coming
in will translate to fewer classes needing to be had.
I've forced myself upon the hapless registrar, who kindly
made an appointment to meet with me tomorrow and look over my unofficial transcript, even though i told her it would
look identical to the official one she should be recieving in a day or so. Tomorrow i'm going to harass UMD again if i
don't see the progress bar on my transcript as having gone anywhere.
Those are two things i like: progress
and bars. When combined, they have my rapt attention.
This week will also hopefully afford me time to shake out
my belongings into further un-packed-ness, and I can look to start painting with the new Oils i was kindly given before leaving.
The theatre company (or atleast it's artistic director) will be getting in touch with me when she gets back
from vacation, and hopefully, I can arrange a gig with them for a little bread. I can't afford not to work, but
the jobs around here aren't that plentiful - atleast ones i suspect won't take a toll on my sanity. If i can't
pay my student loans, they'll fall back into default, and I'll leave here with an associates, but the same debt problems
as before, and nowhere to take my education. Fussing about that this early on, however, will only contribute to stress
and no substantive progress.
Once the boxes in my room are better shuffled, and my computer and books better set
up, look to see some projects:
-Cartoons for the SPLC - an archive of my published cartoons. -Program cover
art from the ACC Spring Variety Show. -Colored comics, and the conitnuing story of Edo.
A 2 act variety show at Alpena Community College opened tonight to a full house, and a
couple dozen nervous performers on stage. It went... well.
I manned the curtain, mostly pulling at the right
time. Songs, monologues, and a really cool (conceptually) scene involving psychology. No spoilers here, you gotta
come see it.
Y'know, all of you i know that live in Alpena, MI.
...oh, wait.
My stomach
bothered me to no end this afternoon, and after discussing with Mom (stage manager, and presenter of the "Chocolate"
monologue), we're going to try and get on Ray's health insurance, and get my butt (well, my gut, really) to someone
that can hopefully help me do something about it. The symptomology points, unfortunately, to Diabetes, and all that comes
with it. It's a family curse, along with heart disease, bad credit and a penchant for devouring takout Chinese.
One day at a time seems to be the mantra here. I can't comfortably slow down from the hectic DC-area pace life
raised me in. I think too much, and fidget too much, and worry too much about everything. Comforts, however, are breaking
through like the bulbs mom planted last year next to the sidwalk. Defiant, they shout their resistance to saturated
ground and night frosts. Defiant, I watch videos from The Western Tradition (look it up) and listen to the Delta Blues
station created on Pandora. There's something about the Blues, (especially the scratchy, grainy songs from history
that sing about "that eeeevil wo'man", or the hateful, shameful legacy of Jim Crow) that speaks to something
in me.
I'm still surrounded by welcoming strangers. Nobody has been anything less than completely and (i feel)
sincerely kind to me. In true performing arts fashion, the cast and semi-crew of the show have all made me feel right at home,
and that my hard work and skills are appreceated.
Before curtain tonight, I scheduled the mandatory placement
test i'll need to take before I can sign up for classes in the fall. As soon as that happens (the 22nd at 13:00), I'll
know where I stand with the college, and can begin getting work-study, scholarship and registrations together. The director
said that she knows of (and writes grants for) a couple of scholarships that frequently go unclaimed, just for my kind of
starving artist needs. Tomorrow or the next day promises transcript requests, job explorations, and maybe some theraputic
arc welding.
If not, fork it. Call is at 18:00, and the show must go on.
The city of Alpena, MI woke up this morning with a new resident: me.
I have yet to change my mailing address
(sorry guys back home), voter registration, driver's license, money accounts, or anything else that would be of some value
to me.
I have, however, returned the trailer, rebuilt the front lights (refocused a dozen or so channels), repaired
the main curtain rope (removed 1 foot of slack from the system), been in production photos (apparently), edited
my mom's paper on censorship, and accepted the acceptance letter from Alpena Community College.
The first inch
of Alpena was a little cold and wet. Grey hills of snow still hide under the low branches of trees, and the shadowed valleys
of small creeks and culverts. The lower-lying of those are deep with runoff and snowmelt, saturating the ground all
around the area. Smells of snow linger on the gentle breeze, but people talk like the last frost isn't too
far off - some prepping gardens for furious growing seasons.
My new house in Alpena is small and a little cluttered.
There hasn't been much time between Mom moving in and now to sort everything out. Compounding that, I moved in with
a traler full of junk to shuffle into the mix. The room I occupy is that of Ray's late son, Bart. His pictures still
smile on the hallway outside, and I can't help but feel him around, even still and even though we never met, or even talked
on the phone.
Rain, sleet, snow, circuitous detours, car accidents and sudden, mandatory visits to people "on
the way" made for a 16 hour trek from Washington, DC to this new home. Following that with waking up and doing 7 hours
on the ladders, curtains and lightboards of a strange facility without unpacking anything has made for a rather intense day.
I'm lucky to have met many nice people who's names I will forget, and still have the love and support of people back
home - even when that feels a lifetime away. I have done so much - and so little - and yet am so very, very tired.
Few things, however, will beat mom's venison chili for lunch tomorrow. Tomorrow, where I get to find another inch.
"TEACH NOTHING BUT LOVE, FOR THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE"
I don't posses the language to accurately express my gratitude to the people I've lived with, and
the hundreds of lives that - in passing- I've been lucky enough to be a part of since moving into the house named (by
me, go fig) the Lunnderdome.
Your patience and generosity are precious gifts I hope to always
see here, and maybe have the courage to share in my new land.
Since it's inception, the Dome
has operated under the guiding theory of "family" - and that simple pract6ice has been the key to it's success
and stability. Living here, even in my most selfish, destructive moments, gave me the safe sanctuary i needed to hide in till
the next sunrise.
It would be foolish to claim that all the choices I made here were healthy,
happy or always in my own best interest. The caliber, however, of people that live here, or are drawn to it's windowed
walls and vaulted, slanty roof never ceased to amaze or inspire me. I hope many generations get to see this house on the hill
for the bright monument of family and community it is.
