B-Fry420

We Will Not Be Bullied Big Oil

2012-02-29T21:15:00.000-08:00

Outside Entrance

On February 28, 2012, members for the One Campaign gathered at the Open Bell Coffee House Cafe, in Dallas, TX, for open mic night, coffee, and to bring awareness to poverty and disease.

The night's session was focused towards the Oil SEC and the multinational companies that are lobbying against effective new European laws. The new laws will prohibit secret payments to corrupt leaders for personal profit.

Inside Entrance

The goal for the petition is currently at 88% and still needs everyone's help to reach 100%, which is 7,273 more signatures. Volunteers were in attendance and ready for the public to answer any and all questions for this global cause. They also have a petition list, voter registration cards, wristbands, and fliers with information.

As a result, we can stand up to a serious issue, as we know, can effect human kind. While they earn money for access to these oil locations, they also sit back and watch their own countrymen suffer with disease and starvation. Please follow the One Campaign on Twitter and Facebook for the latest updates.

From left to right Rustin Stickler, Keith Birtwell, Bill Burk,
Brent Frysinger, and Kyle Talkington

Dictator's Die (Short Story)

2012-02-22T00:32:00.000-08:00

"How is your day Ms. Fuentez?"

"Oh hi Rodney, good I guess."

"You're fixing to get off aren't ya?"

"Oh yeah," as she kept typing.

She stopped for a second, looked passed Rodney's scrawny figure and grayed hair, through the office window, "You better get back to work Rodney, Earl should be coming back any minute."

Rodney fixed his glasses and said, "Okay. It was nice talking to you for a second."

"Same here."

Not shortly after, Earl Temple came in with his big belly, and white hair that was parted to the side. He always wore suspenders that looked like it was helping him wield up his coffee mug. After all the 15 years Lisa Fuentez worked with Earl, she never knew how one man could drink so much coffee.

"Do you have that typed up yet?" Earl asked abruptly.

"No, I'm not finished," Lisa replied.

"Well you should be."

Earl walked back into his office that was connected to Lisa's. He was the head boss, a waste manager was a stressful job, but a job none the less. He had no relationship of any kind to his employees, but his workers had special "relations" with him. Lisa was his secretary and the one closest to him all day. Rodney and the other co-workers felt bad for her. They all had a crush on her, for she was a cute, short haired, and fit woman.

The company they worked for was called Tire Plus. They recapped tires for tractors and trailers in Little Rock, Arkansas. The office and shop were small and boxed in. Tempers were always flaring. Tire Plus had a rough history, and it was lucky if you got out alive. Not only that, but Earl was notoriously known for getting rid of people he didn't like , or in his mind, thought were lazy. Lisa was recently on that list.

Lisa had left for the day without telling Rodney goodbye, as she usually did. She had grown weary of how Earl was treating her and seem to grow paranoid that Earl was trying to get her fired. This had been constantly on her mind for the passed year, as he had made a sexual advance on her the year before.

Before Lisa went home, she tried to stop by the health and fitness club to run out the stress, but this time it was it was not working. Thinking about the insanity, and the insanity itself was pushing her over the edge. She knew just what had to be done, and the thought set comfortably, as the sanity swelled up in her brain.

She got back in her white Honda Civic. Driving through the streets that were lit up by city lamps, their was not a thought on her mind. The radio was on mute, and so was she. Finally making her way to a parking lot of a store that sold one thing. The sign she walked under before making her entrance read, GUNS.

Lisa exited the store. She pulled out the gun she had just purchased once more in the car, that was now legally in her name. It was a .45 Sig Sauer. She put it back in the holster and wanted to stop by her fathers house. Her mother had recently passed away and was now forced to help a second household. This wore heavily on her.

For the next three days during the work week, Lisa obtained a membership to a shooting range. Their she would gain accuracy and progress her sharp shooting skills. On the the third day, since her last purchase, on a Thursday night after work, Rodney decided to stop by Lisa's house. He had lived close by. He noticed all week the friction between Earl and Lisa.

Lisa heard a knock at the door and opened it, "Hey Rodney, what are you doing here?"

"Hey."

"Come in."

"Well I just came to check on you," losing his balance just a bit.

Lisa noticing this said, " Oops... be careful."

"If you haven't noticed... Lisa... I should probably get to the point... I like you. I'm also worried, you haven't been yourself."

"Oh Rodney, I like you too... But... I just can't handle dating some one right now."

Their was an odd silence."I understand I should probably go now," Rodney said and turned away.

"Rodney wait... I do like you. I just... have a little bit of stuff on my plate... I'm fine though."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am, thank you Rodney."

"Okay, bye Lisa," and he drove off.

The next day Lisa arrived at work. She always waived at Rodney every morning and this day wasn't any different. She had placed the gun in her purse for easy access. Her plan was simple, point, shoot, and wait for the cops to come. Lisa wasn't performing any of her work today, their wasn't any point in it. Lisa noticed that Earl was late this morning, so she still sat up straight, her purse in her lap, and waited.

Fatigue had set in, for it had been three hours, and still no sign of Earl. She began to think he had taken off today. All her encouragement, and build up for this moment had been wasted.She might not ever get the nerve to do this again. The thoughts of her mom, family, and the hatred she had for this man were all for nothing. She began to cry and started feeling resentful. She knew she was wrong for even thinking such a thing. And that was harder to think of in itself.

Just then Rodney charged in, "You must have heard already," noticing her crying.

She wiped her eyes, "What?"

"Earl died of a heart attack last night."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, his wife just called."

Top 10 Jail Slang Of The Day

2012-02-16T19:58:00.000-08:00

Can't Get Right
Johnny Sack ( When the cafeteria is closed, or they don't feel like cooking i.e. Peanut Butter sammiches)
Old School (Old Inmate)
Youngster (Young Inmate)
Catchin' Chain (Going to the Big House)
SpongeBobs (Pancakes that look like yours truly)
Prune Fest (Along w/ SpongeBobs Plenty of prunes)
6 Days and a Biscuit ( 6 days until he/she is free)
Poop Around it (Get over it)
Crash Dummy (waiting to get punched)

The Disappearing Man (Poem)

2012-02-14T01:16:00.000-08:00

The Feelings go unnoticed, he couldn't bare

Dealing with thoughts impaired

This left you behind

Feelings go unnoticed
What happened and what might have been

The enemy you saw, a man you thought flawed

It made him vanish

Leaving was always involved

Pealing the outside from within

Dissolves, problem solved

The self hatred pleads on and on

Emotions go unnoticed, this is wrong

The Disappearing Man is now gone

Top 10 Jail Slang Of The Day

2012-02-11T10:37:00.000-08:00

Let Me Find Out
Real Talk
Chow Rollin'
Pill Window
Put That On Somethin'
Laundry For Soup
FiFi (Hand Held Masterbation Device)
Punk (Gay Dude)
Catch The Corner (A Fight)
Rack Down (Don't get out of your bunk)

.........Minding My Own Business Pt. II

2012-02-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

On Feb. 7, 2012, I was doing the normal routine, doing a couple push ups, and doing a few sit ups. Upon doing some calisthenics I return to publish, write, surf the social media, read news and tweets. I watch a little day time television, multitasking away. Before I knew it, it was time for the news at 4:00 PM, central time. The amber alert had previously aired a report on Ellen. Then another story broke about a shooting at a Dart Train Station in Richardson. It got me thinking about my first story I wrote about this.

When I was riding the bus one time I bought a reduced bus fair ticket. I had purchased, in what I believed to be a discount for taking the train, in which I figured you got a discount for riding a direct train route. For it does not tell you what the reduced pass is for. I received a citation for fair evasion, originally reduced pass, not fair evasion, a sixty dollar fine. The day before Feb. 7, I received a letter in the mail for the incident that happened in December 2011. It's now a $200 fine. I thought it was at least gonna be a few more months for a big city, and considering I'm low on funds, bad.

The next day the shooting happened, but not before another incident involving crazy people, one man was pushed into an oncoming train, and another person fired a few shots at a different location. All after my first story about Steve, the dude who made my "spidey sense" go off. I know there are plenty more incidents that they don't show happen on a daily basis and I can only imagine.

The story broke the news as I continued to watch, wondering what happened with the mother that kidnapped her own daughter. The news chopper had been circling, as the news casters were telling what bits and pieces of information they had, all the while waiting for Richardson Police to hold a conference on the issue. Finally the Sargent came on and gave a more detailed description of what happened. I heard a little piece of what he said and became weary. He said, "Their was an altercation between a driver and a passenger. The officer went to investigate, as she did the man that was being disruptive started walking away. She chased after him, and the man turned around and started firing at the officer. The shots had hit some bystanders and the officer was hit, aided by her bullet proof vest, and one that grazed her arm. The man ran across the street into a near by business, as he died from injuries still pending on whether or not by suicide or by officers".

Obviously the man was not right in the head, and could have ultimately hurt others a few days, months, even years later. This is very heroic by the officer, however the situation could have been avoided had she had just called in back up instead of charging up on someone. She could had followed him up a little more and then approached him.

I was wondering about the innocent bystanders for I had been optimistic about the tactics used. I was upset to think how everybody is just trying to make a dollar and have to fall into a situation like that. I felt bad, I cling to this story and my heart goes out. Maybe now they feel that they are a sacrifice. I could only imagine how the victims feel ...........Minding My Own Business, I could have let this story go, but I thought this needed to be brought to light. It also frustrates me to know that they waste their time on people who get reduced passes. They go hand and hand when somebody calls it out. Basing a real life situation and now have to pay for a mistake.

*Update: 2 bystanders, 1 being killed
Shooter is one, Cory Jones (diseased), shot by officers
Officer's bullets hit 1 bystander in the arm
Shooter's bullets killed one, Eric Johnson.

The Competition (Poem)

2012-02-06T11:18:00.000-08:00

I see, with eyes,

the reaction of expression

To hear the tone of,

white lies and aggression

Sitting just below waiting,

to feed, to plead

Fighting for a prize,

only one fights for himself

Accomplishments made,

reflections are not parallel

The world remains the same,

it has not changed

Forces become objects

of nature, blame,

negative, positive

Big Bang

Foreseeing,

Believing,

letting the two win

Peace provided

Let it be Done (Text Message)

2012-02-02T23:13:00.001-08:00

man don't give up. I'm not. sometimes I want to, to be honest with you. but I know some people deserve to live their lives, and people willing to give their lives for it, ain't nothin that can compare. one day all this crazy shit will end. where we can, i ask the gods above to to please grant me freedom. let it be done.

Eye In The Sky (Short Story)

2012-02-02T14:08:00.000-08:00

The stars were shining bright one night in East Texas. Chad and his brother Patrick were hanging out in a car, listening to the radio, and having a few beers. The station was playing rock music, Audioslave's "Like a Stone".

"Mom wants you to get a job," Patrick said. "She wants you to help out with the bills."

Chad lit a cigarette and took a drag. He blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth, angled towards the cracked window. Patrick being irritated by the smoke said, "Damn crack your window more," and coughed.

"Look I'm trying to find a job. It's hard to find one when we live so far from everything."

"Chad.... you always use that as an excuse, you have to get a job, that's it."

"It's bullshit," Chad spoke out.

Chad and Patrick still lived with their mom. They had recently been fighting about this, for it had been three months since Chad had last worked. The car they were sitting in was a black 1996 Chevy Lumina, sitting by their double wide factory home, in an asphalt made driveway. The spot light came on by the side door; the wind had shook the auto sensor. They thought they had woken their mom up, which they did not want to do. She would be pissed.

The spotlight turned off, and they were now sitting in the dark. The song had ended and went on to play an Alice In Chains song called "Rooster". They both sat silently, listening to the tune. Chad gazed up at the stars, wondering how he could escape the thought of finding a job. He knew how hard it was to find work. He tried to think of several things to do for money, like starting a band, but didn't know anybody to start one with. Thoughts raced through his brain.

Chad suddenly noticed something catch his eye. He pointed with his index finger, with the hand his lit cigarette was in and said, "Hey look, a shooting star."

Patrick huffed, "I'm not kidding, quit trying to change the subject.' He was looking right at Chad with his wide eyes, dark thick eyebrows, and goatee chin pointed down.

Chad was still locked in on the bright white dot as his long, blonde curly hair, blocked his view from Patrick's crazy stare. "Wait wha- what's that?"

"What?" Patrick gasped.

" Dude, seriously, look! That doesn't look like a falling star, it stopped."

Just then the object descended down and stopped again. Chad exited the car, as Patrick followed, both of their heads still cocked up at the sky.

"That's not normal," Chad whispered.

"It's nothing," Patrick scoffed.

Just then the bright phenomenon moved forward, and started to get closer. Patrick started walking towards the front door of the house, "I'm going in". Chad speculated a bit, "We're not alone."

"That's great, get a job." Before Chad started walking towards the house, he looked back over, and the object had disappeared. He began to walk to go inside the house. "This must be a sign," he thought to himself. He needed to start a band.

Top 25 Help with Band Names

2012-02-01T15:15:00.000-08:00

Crow Pie
Broomsquad
Death Star Squad
Delta 9
Charlie 5
Intake
Day of the Dead
Skeletors
United Stains of America
Hungry Afternoon
Happy Accident
Mud Pie
No Avail
Pound Mouth
Alpha/Omega
Smelly Defeat
Ender
Brimstone and Fire
The Heathen's Wall
Swamp Monsters
Throw and Retreat
Gandaulf's Standoff
Potter Harry
Big Bitch
Thine Hookers Bfry. 1 or 2 have been taken, but this is my made up band names.

'Til The Wheels Fall Off

2012-01-31T23:41:00.000-08:00

When I started my Twitter account, it was about the same time the San Diego Comic Convention was going on, in July of 2011. I was a little upset and I was missing out. Also, the membership on my Xbox Live online had ran out. I needed something to do, fast. Thus began to emerge my social media exploration. I never thought I would like it so much.

It manifested my life's quest, dreams, and every imaginable possibility an American should be inclined to involve themselves with. True the internet is free, but the products and people are not. Trying to make a dollar in the cyber world is not easy though.

I read tons of tweets, posts, personal blogs, articles, video media, photos, share other people's work, promote, write/draw/share my work, support online activism, instigate a marketing competition, trading stories, and publish a Daily paper. Along with this I'm seeing a movie, going to a concert, going to a club, eating out, going to outings and conventions around town. I consider myself an ultimate fan. I'm very thankful to be able do these things also.

My books are something I try to make time for. As you really have to have time to engage, as I am sometimes guilty for being so active. (along with a part time job) Their is so much stuff to do. If I didn't have to hustle money I would be in heaven. In a lot of ways I'm hustling already.

Enjoying things sometimes is a gift to yourself, and every one knows too much of anything can be bad for you. (You know what I'm talking about. (OCD). I love the amenities of life, and I'll ride it 'Til The Wheels Fall Off. It will never be overwhelming. The only thing I am frustrated with is their's never enough time in the day. My sleep seems to always intrude with this. It sucks, but hey, I'm ready ride.

Trying Not to Hate

2012-01-27T12:49:00.000-08:00

One thing that has always bothered me. When people are HIV and Aids Positive, why would you give it to somebody else? In a sense, you are a murderer. That is one thing I cannot tolerate. So, with that being said. Respect your bodies, and give masterbation a try. Thank you , that is all.

Allen's Pledge (Short Story)

2012-01-19T15:12:00.000-08:00

"Graham you're lazy," Amber said. "You're a procrastinator, you

have no motivation to do anything," as she rolled over.

Graham quickly thought to himself, "I have plenty of motivation to

to screw you," gesturing the middle finger with her back turned.

"Yes I know I need to drop off this package." Replying back.

Amber was lying in bed in their bedroom, as he exited, making his way to the garage.

Not before peaking in on his, "little monster" in the other room.

He was sleeping in this morning. "Thank God!" Graham thought.

Graham Tyson ran an online business, and worked along side with eBay.

It kept food on the table but he was always doing side jobs

in photography for extra money.

The garage was packed full of stuff. Graham pressed the button for the door, to open up some space. The sun was "a little perky" this morning, Graham thought.

Rummaging through his keep, he found the package, that was wrapped up last night.

Just then, he gazed up to notice his neighbor Cindy, backing up out of her driveway.

She looked in a rush, swinging her car in a jerking, fast motion.

"Must be late this morning," Graham uttered out. Also noticing that she was looking

down at her phone at the same time.

Just as he turned away and reached for the garage door button,

he heard an eerie screech and a slight thud. A sound any automobile driver

was familiar with. Graham hustled his way to the driveway when he met,

in the distance, an hysterical screaming lady, with her eyes wide, all white.

Graham ran up faintly surprised. Some cars were blocking his view, as he

approached the direction the crazed woman ran to. Cindy and the lady

Graham had never met before, were both hovering over a mangled little boy.

It didn't appear the boy was breathing. Without a flinch of hesitation, Graham

knew just what to do, for he had taken medical classes a few years back.

"Step aside mam," he said in a respectful, heroic tone.

He was already on his back, head slightly turned. He began to give him

CPR. He had two lady's behind him crying rivers. The lady began to shout

and push Cindy, "How could you do this?" As Graham remained calm.

Just then, the boy began to breathe, making snorting sounds.

"Call 911 hurry," Graham panicked out. Cindy volunteered.

Graham made sure their were no bleeding outs, and sharp bones.

Their was no need for a tourniquet, he was relieved to know.

Before they knew it all emergency personnel arrived.

"Oh my God Graham, Cindy exclaimed.

"Cindy I saw you."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you on your phone. I have to tell the police that.
What if it was Graham, JR. Cindy?"

Graham had realized that he had seen the boy before. He came to play with his son.

His name was Allen.

Awakened (Quote)

2012-01-17T15:20:00.000-08:00

What's the point of being awake, if everyday you wake, Not being awakened?

The 420 Take

2012-01-16T13:49:00.000-08:00

It is to my knowledge that a certain Police reference or code, is the number 420, in regards to a person smoking marijuana on the scene. Not too sure about the California Law Enforcement codes. The term goes for a code of people that use the still illegal, tried to made made legal, but surpassed by Medical consumption, also known as the "gateway drug". Also known as a peace day (that should be everyday) and the birth date of Dictator Adolph Hitler.

My personal reference was to call on the "Call of Duty" players who wanted to play online, the cyber world of Modern Warfare 2. The game I would ultimately get addicted to, as I played several opponents. I started the 420 number in reference to all the meanings of the number.

Personal belief, as many would agree, that alcohol is closely related to heroin. It seems an argument to be my "Gateway Drug". In adaptation to natural highs like adrenaline or spinning in circles, and getting dizzy until you throw up. Not to mention DWI's, and a number one death sentence if you think you're invisible in a car, or invisible to sexual transmitted diseases. Good old liquid encouragement.

Doing my share of partying is at a cost, never knowing what the people you are involved with really have the best intentions for you. It is a harsh world out there for people who might just wanna have fun, and have to pay a price for it. I've learned this all through experience. Having slowed down I try not to get addicted to anything, even sex anymore.

The take on 420, I'll use still to this day. Having lived in California, you know what I'm talking about. Playing a game of war is fun, but you still have to realize that it's a game. I used 420 for the divine intervention between being a symbol of peace, and hatred. A code for whoever grace's their online presence with me. Almost saying that I come in peace. The hate part of it is something I'll never understand.

Lost and Found

2012-01-12T11:53:00.000-08:00

Writing is a form of expression. It's the only thing I like to do. Write and share stories. I'm not the greatest writer, having been out of the loop for a while. A little "rusty" you could say. I recently just started my own "blog spot", and trying to excel in the "art of writing".

At the age of 13, after my Father and Mother's big custody ordeal , I began to feel a little rebellious. I might have lashed out at this, not realizing it was creating more trouble. Building some pent up feelings. I began to write, which consisted of songs and poems mostly.

My Grandma bought me my first acoustic guitar, and my Grandpa bought me my first electric guitar. So in a lot of that time I taught myself how to play the guitar. With the help of a few other gutarists. I slowly started to seclude myself, and become a little depressed. I guess it started to illuminate, or bloom my writing.

Having a few peer pressures is always on the agenda for a new teen. Emotional or Emo music would stir up feelings that consisted of past molestation and frustration. Getting in trouble and failing grades began to show. Wanting to act out so I could be by myself in I.S.S., instead of in a normal classroom. There I could write and lose myself in the world of words.

I wrote a paper for history class in eighth grade about the medical science of the Civil War, and just didn't turn it in. It was pretty good work. This was about the same time my Language Arts teacher got real mad, cause he saw some potential in me. I later thought about why he got on to me so much, but I was interested in girls or whatever everybody else was in to.

The notebooks I would use were always my pick of choice. I wrote through the paper like a "bad habit". Their in these tablets would remain my archive through the years. From the time I was 13 to about 21 There were some writings here and there, when I got married and had a baby, but not very many. All that hard work was in those notebooks.

Having some of the most creative peices I have ever written in there. They would not last through marriage and getting divorced. Getting lost in the midst was, a lot of passion thrown out the window. If I could only find them. It would make my life complete. Those writings were a really big piece of me.

Well, I know one thing, those things I search for endlessly. With my passion Lost but just recently Found, even as I'm writing this. Nobody has to care. If you are a writer, you should care about the art of writing. Carrying on a conversation like their ain't no tomorrow, and can make something out of nothing, is why I love to write.

.....Minding My Own Business

2012-01-11T13:08:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I was riding the Dart Green Line to downtown Dallas. I use the Dart system for part time work at the Galleria Mall. I try to bring books for my 2 hour trip. Sometimes I don't have time to eat lunch, so I bring a little bag of Ranch sunflower seeds. The bus can get boring, but not on this particular day. I kinda wanted it to go back to boring.

The bus I had ridden on picked up some church choir singers who sang pretty good. It was different for that day. I liked it when they sang their tunes on the bus. We all exited the bus that was now at the Bachman Train Station. Stuffing seeds in my mouth I trailed over to the rail track, so I could be considerate of my shells, and dispose of them properly.

I kinda avoid people when I notice or sense a bad vibe from them. I glanced at the people singing on the bus went walking around the station to some apartments. Then they came back to the station. I had no idea what they were doing. Shortly after, I sensed a presence walking towards me, and my intuitions were alarming like Spiderman's "spidey sense".

Walking away I held him in the corner of my eye, and moved backwards. Noticing this as well, he stopped. He looked over and asked me "Do you believe in God?". Okay, at this point, "spidey sense" was right. I put my guard up, but remained calm. I paused for a minute trying to stay cool, and said "Yeah, yeah I do. He then replied back, "My name is Steve, please pray for me". He also went on to say "So I don't do something that I don't want to do".

Now at this point I'm wigging out on the inside. Before I could say anything, Steve walked away. I said "Be cool man, it ain't worth it". I was about to alert a few people but I didn't, wondering how I would react to a serious scenario. Just then the train pulled up. Still keeping an eye on him on the train, we arrived at my departure at the West End station. Nothing happened after that. And I hope nothing did.

...........Minding My Own Business, can only get by so far. From Bachman to the West End station is where all the "crazies" are. It brought to conclusion that maybe we are all in this together. I do believe in God. I do have my own perceptions, and can only say, "Baby I was Born This Way". To some of you that might not be exciting, but I thought he was going to flip out and "Go postal" or something. I still think about Steve. I hope he is "making it'.

Funny, son

2012-01-09T17:05:00.000-08:00

I have a son whose name is Raiden Luke Frysinger and he is six years old. He's a normal boy with a big imagination. Already getting in trouble in school for kissing girls, being disruptive in class, and eats lunch with the principal. He does know right from wrong, but he can't slow down enough, with his energy.

Lately I've been doing my visitations at my ex's house. Yes it is ridiculous. I was set with temporary visitations. Due to some overwhelming situations. Freaking out Britney Spears style you could say. I've been grateful enough that I can still see my son.

While I was over at my ex's house, I've been making it tradition to stay out of her house as long as I can. We take walks to the woods in Lewisville, where I literally see trash everywhere I walk. Along with trash, I see big mounds of dog poo. I often ask why my son lives in those apartments where people can't take care of their surroundings.

Noticing all this, I made an entrance back through the front of the apartments, (Funny I was nominated to walk my ex's dog Bella during all this) when I look over and Raiden is walking to a random apartment door. (I made a funny to myself, and thought he better not be knocking on the door and run off). What do you know? He did it, and started running.

I know what your thinking, I ran with him too.(We called it something else when I was a kid) Now I'm not a bad father. With all the trash, and me walking the dog, I already felt like a horse's ass. I was a little worried about his influences honestly. His mother thinks she's mother of the year, and I'm sure she would like to be hypocrite on this matter.

In all accounts of his actions, I am very worried that he is influenced. I would only hope to teach him to do his own thing and be his own person. As I would like to tell his mother that I would like to have more time with him. All this, it was great time. We ran around like we owned the place like we usually do. And I would say, that's Funny, son. I freaking love you.

Forever Too Much (Poem)

2012-01-05T15:38:00.000-08:00

The cold air is chilling my bones
My heart is beating slow,
From the depths of my dirty soul
Secluded to find seclusion
A world far from delusion

Revolving in my mind the things that could have been done
with only words you told me to be ready
I feel you, I relied on wasted time

Then, I lost me, the feelings I had
The old man turning old
That passion I search for endlessly

Dark smoke and made out poison
Twisted thoughts, noise and emotion
Forever too much

The Electronic Human Spirit

2011-12-28T21:20:00.000-08:00

The times have seemed to change. At least that's what some people's perception and opinions of 2011 have been. With the smart phones, tablets, and the glowing computers, one would say that they are nothing short of... a computer. They are actually light years away from Alan Turing's classic computer. When I was growing up, I'd always dreamed of playing other "Gamers" from other parts of the States, or other countries for that matter.

With all the hype on electronics, it's still safe to say, that I'm still human. I've made some mistakes and took different career paths. I've always had a computer, and always had an Xbox. I have felt just pure joy at our capabilities to posses such talents, and admired the people who've made such great programs. They have truly shared a gift with all that enjoy creativity.

Writing, art, and creativity takes time out of ones day to appreciate. Lately their's been a "war on piracy" and the pirates stealing from other "artists". Which I think is wrong. If you don't have the money, don't buy it. With our economy not doing very well I can see why people won't hesitate to bring piracy to an end. Will it ever end?

Everything seems to come down to money. Which takes away from the "Human Spirit". When you take away something from somebody, they feel backed into a corner like a caged dog, which knows what it feels like to be left out in the cold. I've often asked questions; "Is that the Human Spirit? To feel that way, when somebody takes something from you"? Well I would say yes, they have every right to feel that way. That's why I'm a little nervous to walk downtown with my new Nook Color. Often feeling like "Do I deserve this"? Yes I do. I know what it feels like to be left in the cold.

The Human Spirit is what it should be. Always consisting of sharing, caring, respecting, giving, tolerance, and the ever delightful motions of life. I will live with one saying in my life, "Money don't make me, I make the money" attitude. Some people kill, and steal to get what they want. Which will never seem to end. My Human Spirit will "stand up for the weak, and fight along with the strong". My Human Spirit. And the "The Electronic Human Spirit" (mess with my Nook) and I'll have to "Eye for an eye you". Yes you.