Diamond Lake Creative

Tag: Diamond Lake

  • They Call Me Eeyore – a poem; or, For Broken

    They Call Me Eeyore – a poem; or, For Broken

    muscle & bone tenssssing relentless –
    skin stretcccccched
    joints mangled
    brain dis-shev_om-bu__lated
    ([°}{°] _questioning never stops
    ( ‹ \ _questioning questions
    \~~` _gaslighting agitating
    ¬_˘ _¬ earrrrritating – earthheadquaches cranium cracked stretched beyond recognizable limit
    ∆ alien forms are
    Ï familiar
    ˘ not foreign 

    tussled hair eyes limbs – broken spirit bro_ken will frac||tured friendships multiple mishaps per minute or mmm… but it doesn’t taste good :\

    chocolate & wine & whiskey & gin & vodka for filling flesh wounds & assuaging more deeply disturbing soul suffocating shankings -> always expected… yet never ready for the moments -+-+ the moments, so many moments, one long moment, it comes in waves momentous waves ~>~>~> abrupt & pungent fed by each breath in &
    each breath out &
    all breath everywhere – no one knows because they can’t know • • • • • • • • • it’s not for knowing if you haven’t lived it
    _____intimately ______intensely ___all consuming ∫_bending ¬_breaking
    ∫∫_bending ¬¬_breaking
    ∫∫∫_bending ¬¬¬_breaking
    ∫∫∫∫_bending
    ¬¬¬¬_breaking

    |\___ for broke 

    language has not found a word
    a phrase a book detailed enough to properly explain, to break down, to disassemble and reassemble – reverse engineer the feels, ª§ª§ª§ emotions,
    ¿•∏δ„ı˜Â¸ª§§§ confusion

    Eeyore is sad
    depressed
    downtrodden
    eternal pessimist
    living the melancholonical life
    it is hard being a donkey who’s tail falls off, the world doesn’t know the struggles of living in the shadows of thoroughbreds with strange names, cute bears, smart owls, and clever rabbits, all more appealing to a child’s eye, all more retailable for retailing real-Taylors — Someone says, “he’s like Eeyore – always with a frown”. 

    head down, eyes glossed, smiles scared away, far far away below the cold waters –
    brain matters draped heavily over back of rocking chair, tilting • down • back • and • to the • left
    not lurching, straining
    weight of the world affixed
    to vagus – medulla labored
    heart Bradied a Bunch cardiac stasis performing life-support in slow-mo,
    no fucks to give – breath
    comes — or not
    aorta sputters, coughs out matter of facts! Before Kidney punches deep into the recess of loneliness and squid posterior – depression rages against an onslaught of bromidal joy

    What's Your Damage
  • Less Than Zero: Lessons For Today, Lessons for Tomorrow

    Less Than Zero: Lessons For Today, Lessons for Tomorrow

    Less Than Zero, Brett Easton Ellis’ 1st novel, was released in 1985. The movie, a loose and overall above zero translation of the book hit movie screens 2 years later. The year after that, 1988, I read Less Than Zero for the first time – I was in eighth grade. That was my introduction to emotional dissonance as a form of temporary existence. I’ve since learned some people live their whole lives this way.
    The entirety of the novel has a melancholic ’80s vibe milieu veiling every scene, every moment, which is the way I felt for most of my life up to that point – and beyond. Even during the highest of highs, nothing ever felt quite right – like everything was going to be ok. Life felt as if I was in a rowboat adrift on Lake Superior shrouded in sea smoke – a simultaneously beautiful and strange experience but always wondering where exactly I was, what direction I was headed and intermittently despondent because I didn’t have any oars. Life was a lot then, so too now.

    Disappear Here. Signage on a billboard in the Movie Less Than Zero - marker on cardstock
    The Beverly Hills Hotel and other images in my head from reading Less Than Zero in 1988 - pen and marker on cardstock

    Fast-forward 40ish years and here we are, living through a new and different hell than the one we experienced during the 2nd “great” reconstruction under the morass of Reaganism. Then, much like today, we had an expanded domestic War on Drugs (or war on the financially disadvantaged, more specifically); Central & South American interventions – (then) in Nicaragua, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Chile; (now) in Venezuela, Panama, Colombia, Cuba, & Mexico; extremely one-sided economic policies benefitting the rich and costing the poor; neocons and neofascists supporting similar political ends in more public forums; and all the while being fed bullshit about it being some version of morning again in America. In many ways, societally, we are in a similar space – though less than zero theoretically, the major difference being technology developed in recent times and its reach.

    What does this have to do with negative integers, you say. Well, much like the characters in Less Than Zero, we find a dichotomy occurring that is inherently coherent yet thoroughly disconcerting. The archetypes have similar backstories – good-looking, smart, wealthy, Southern California, – trappings generally associated with a “good life”. So it would be expected that they are relatively happy; But they’re not. All of them feign happiness at times, Julian even appears truly happy once or twice but under the surface they all have no idea what life is about and they assume happiness is supposed to be part of it. They’re simply going through the motions in hopes of uncovering a secret somewhere down the road. This isn’t all that different from most people at that age in life, we just didn’t know that back then. So what’s it mean?
    Maybe nothing, maybe a lot. It makes me think about the happiness paradigm as it existed then, and now, making it some kind of accessory that comes with certain lifestyles or socio-economic class. So the question is, is being happy the point? If so, I think we’ve failed, collectively, on a grand scale. But maybe the point isn’t about a particular emotional state, maybe it’s about existing in a space that feels ok more often than it doesn’t. Is that acceptable in 2026, when people are living in space?
    And therein lies the conundrum, can one exist in a state that is neither primarily joyful nor full of existential questions surrounding the meaning of life and interspersed with super-sized episodes of dread, fear, loathing, pain, etc.? And if there are other possible ways to exist, what are they? Reserved (Lutheran); Cold; Stoic (Scandinavian); Indifferent; Passive (Minnesotans & Brits); all of which I’ve embodied at various points and grew up surrounded by but often associated with an unpleasant existence. And, what if the emotional state is masked; externally happy-go-lucky but internally woebegone-staid-unfortunate; does it change the way we perceive the actual emotional state of those we’re viewing? I have no answers, only questions.

    Connecting Then and Now

    2025 witnessed the rollout of full-on fascism in American politics. The newly installed regime uses force to wield power and overrun anyone who opposes their goals. This return to the ways of the ante-bellum south, where slave catchers ran roughshod over the rights of citizens, has many Americans worried about what it means for our constitutionally defined government framework. Similarly, it seems as if many of our country-people are either unaware, unbothered, or wholly supportive of what’s happening. Do they not recognize themselves in historical photographs – violently attacking Civil Rights protesters? Lynching Black and Mexican Americans for ignoring White society’s expectations? Placing Japanese Americans in concentration camps? Firing LGBTQ individuals working in the Federal Government? How quickly we forget our past. We live in strange and horrible times… – Less Than Zero? No, but teetering.

    Less Than Zero themed images - pen and ink, marker and chaos

    So the question is, what do we do, as a nation, as a community, as individuals. I recommend resistance in any and every form conceivable. The Civil Rights movement required the work of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, Malcolm X, and Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) as much as it needed the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Diane Nash, John Lewis, and Bayard Rustin. Non-violence has a role, so too does violence, or at the very least the threat of violence. More often than not, power negotiates in bad-faith with those it deems weak or manageable. If we are to level the playing field where compromise can occur, joy and simplicity can coexist broadly, and diversity, equity and inclusion are seen as both necessary and proper by an overwhelming majority, the pen and the sword will both play a role. In addition to constant resistance, advocating with local, state and federal elected officials will galvanize them to fight.

    Hereto, opposing political paradigms have intensified and compromise has largely gone the way of the Dodo. At this point, I must confess I’m more confused than I was when I started thinking about this subject, nearly 40 years ago. Less Than Zero really rattled my brain and it’s still vibrating. Maybe this is non-sensical and further evidence of just how far I’ve veered from the days of Cowboy Killers and Old Swill (which I still enjoy on occasion). Or maybe I don’t have the requisite moments of quiet to sit and think things through. Whatever the case, I’m still pondering these questions, subliminally more often but always there.

    In Conclusion – We Are More Than Less Than Zero


    Educate, advocate, disseminate goodness, go on and hate (fascists), don’t hesitate to complicate the goals and aims of the drumpf estate;
    move your body six-seven-eight, keep time with those who elevate, allow spirits and souls to reverberate, mix the roux of ‘Sota – love this state

    gotta turn up the heat an’ expose ice-gate,
    move through the streets down Nicollet and Lake – participate in the change we’re making – now don’t be late;
    If we are to continue paradigmatically opposed, like indifference and hate, we should expect the situation to exacerbate – tensions, crimes, lawlessness, in the aggregate; then it’s time for change – time to create, something based on norms to which we all can relate
    Please donate to those in need, turn up and turn out, carry the weight; keep on keeping torches bright, find your people, celebrate!

  • 14 Years of Exploring North of Normal in MPLS – & now… moving on 2 St. Paul!

    14 Years of Exploring North of Normal in MPLS – & now… moving on 2 St. Paul!

    Diamond Lake Creative is Moving

    Diamond Lake Creative is moving to St. Paul! We don’t know why. Maybe because it was across the proverbial road and we wanted to see what life is like when you slow it down (not being snarky, St. Paulites). Or maybe we thought being 25 minutes closer to the St. Croix river, which is the border between Wisconsin proper and Far Western Wisconsin (FWW), would be beneficial for its proximity to the Mecca of Cheesecurd Nation. Or maybe we’re joining the Minnesota Wild Hockey Club and liked the idea of living in the city the Wild call home(but you didn’t hear that from me)? Whatever the reason, Diamond Lake Creative is not becoming Lake Phalen Creative nor is Diamond Lake Bistro changing its name to Payne Park Bistro (though that has a nice ring to it…). We will continue on with the Diamond Lake monikers as they are a piece of our history and eventually Diamond Lake will become its own incorporated township – carved out of South MPLS – and we will be members of the inaugural Diamond Lake Guild of Dark NorwegianViking Yeomen.

    Anyway, the new digs are old, 141 years old to be exact. The house once served as a layover for travelers heading West, like the Donners, who got Ooooh so close to the promised land but came up short by a few feet. Prior to that, it was a Minnesota Mastodon stable frequented by Caralinos who traveled back and forth between their homeland in modern day Peru and the fertile valleys of the La Cloche Mountains – which are part of Lake Huron’s North Shore (the surfing used to be killer but since the last ice age ended its been meh). This journey was part of the Western Hemisphere’s Keeping up with the Joneses movement – competing with the Spice Road. The Indigenous peoples of the continents would trade Inti-sun butter, Chupacabra resistant mountain goat chèvre, quasi-lava-cultured Amarillo Llama milk, Mature Mastodon and Mammoth extra heavy cream, and Giant Ground Sloth GroGurt among other double fat dairy dee-lites. For a few hundred years locals referred to it as the Boulevard of Brumal Blubber Augmentation; but, as with many monikers, that came to be seen as too narrow and not entirely fitting a place that would soon be home to the Cadillac Ranch, the Arch in St. Louie, and the Santa Monica Pier. And while much of the rest of the beaten path has been lost to history, you can still find fragments of that time when exploring the area along U.S. Highway 8 between Weyerhauser and Hawkins in Wisconsin’s Northwoods.

    What Does This Mean for America moving forward?

    What in the name of all that is holy is happening here, you might be asking yourself. And that’s a darn good question. America has never before seen an upheaval so sudden and utterly confounding save for that one time in Harrisburg. Nobody really knows what happened in late July 1877 in the backcountry of Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains and yet, it happened. And 3,500 years prior, events that were in no way connected to the future moving dilemma we face today were tearing apart a civilization that was founded on the idea of mint hash for all. What does this mean for our nation, a country “made great” by subjugating, enslaving, disabling, and killing anyone who stood in the way of unabated wealth accumulation of, by, and for the social elite? We can’t be entirely certain but there is one thing we do know… Mint hash never caught on as a major gateway drug.

    If you’ve read this far and are more confused now than at any point in your life, that’s good, confusion is healthy when society is so completely broken, dismembered, bowelless, dead. Now we wait for the meteors to rain down so that “we” may begin again. And here I thought this was all leading to something grand, something hopeful, something, I don’t know, nice – but life is funny that way, funny not funny, I suppose, but funny nonetheless. Next time you’re in Key West, say Hi to Marsha and Salty Sam, they can be found laying on the beach near the 3rd palm from the end. Oh, they’re cats, not people, bring nip.

    Wait! What About Those 14 Golden Years in Far Western Wisconsin’s Largest Metropolis?

    Oh yeah, I forgot (ADHD keeps me going in 80 different directions simultaneously). Minneapolis is one of the most glorious places on earth. The waters are the lifeblood and the people, good eggs for the most part, are kind, intelligent, thoughtful, emotionally secure (more or less), passionate about making the world better, skilled in a variety of arts & trades, and have more great bakeries/patisseries, breweries, restaurants, bike hubs, and food trucks than cities twice the size.
    There are so many ways to experience the true spirit of ‘Sota in Minneapolis: kayaking Minnehaha Falls, biking 15 miles to work in a blizzard, being carried away by a mosquito the size of a 747, or enjoying a cat parade. But even more than all of those amazing options, the feel one gets when: brewery hopping for a month, getting eargasms at 1st Ave, eating your way thru Midtown Global Market, or freezing your bits off at the pond hockey championships, the instant community with people you might never see again, but for a moment are the Besties you never knew you needed, is indescribable. And while the stoicism spectrum here provides for many head scratching encounters, the people, again, generally speaking, have best intentions.

    American short hair cat, jumping from wicker chair into snow
    Cat incoming

    Anyway, the rest of the story is like this… or pretty much so!

    One would expect, in the cold climes of the Upper Midwest’s Capital (St.MinnePaulpolis) of all things on sticks, that shish-kebabs would be a bigger deal… but they’re not. Maybe it’s the walleyes’ fault (the State meat) – they don’t work as well on a stick, too floppy. Or maybe, after witnessing the shish-kebab debacle of 1887, in Northeast Iowa, Minnesotans gave a collective UFF-DA and vowed to never make the mistake of kebabing anything in mass production. Whatever the case, it’s not a thing here, and that’s ok.
    But what Minneapolitans & St. Paulonians do have is a common love of and dedication to supporting that which benefits the larger society/social upkeep/societal success, etc. We, much like US Marines, may argue and fight amongst ourselves about the best Jucy Lucy (it’s Matt’s) or the purpose of life (aside from the annual pilgrimage to The Greatest Fair on Planet Earth!) – but we’ve got our neighbor’s back if some guy from Florida starts talking out their ass. We’ll politely give them a mint and tell them their breath stinks.

    A Note to Mother re: The Move

    It’s now been 72 days, but who’s counting?

    Dearest mother, it is now day 68 of this most arduous & exhausting moving experience. The weather has significantly delayed our efforts as the mules refuse to move while snow is falling. Upon cessation of the fucking flakes, the temperatures plummet & drift between 5° & 25° below zero causing Big Jake to lie down & bury his head in a drift. He’s not much for work in the winter – or the summer for that matter.
    Little Jacob caught the frostbite & we had to saw off 6 fingers & both thumbs… fortunately he has retained his left ring finger & right middle finger so we’re hopeful he’s still good enough to be marrying material. We can see the dirt floors in most of the house and therefore we know we are close to the end. God is providing abundance in the form of tears from Emma – she weeps all day & repeats some variation of “God, will they ever be fucking done?” We continue, ever forward – dying quietly and moving one piece of salt pork at a time. Give my love to father and sister Christian.
    Love your most benevolent son, Erik.

    Pen & ink drawing of my brain activity at any given moment
    Either the brain image I had done last week or the map we used for moving to St. Paul… or maybe both

    “Where do we go now?”, said Pooh; and Eeyore, never looking up from the thistles replied, “Who the fuck cares, Pooh – Who the fuck cares?”

    And that is not an actual quote from any A.A. Milne book; nor would I expect such language from Eeyore, ever the optimist, cheerleader and go-getter. But the message serves as a lesson for us all, or for some of us. It matters not where you go or what you do so long as you do it with conviction and with no concern whatsoever for those who would prefer you live by their rules. We can’t spend our days trying to conform to every norm, following every law, bending over backward to ensure we don’t offend or frustrate the gate keepers. You only get one shot, the Book of Marshall reminds us, and if you don’t take a chance you’ll never know what if. So go ahead, rock the fucking boat, beat the drum of defiance, and keep the powers that be always wondering if their time has come. Moving is hard in the best of times and we haven’t seen those times yet.

  • Lillies of the Alley: Flora in the alleys of Minneapolis

    Lillies of the Alley: Flora in the alleys of Minneapolis

    Minneapolis Alleys have some of the most beautiful flower scapes. Wildflowers, wild roses, sunflowers, daisies, and many other varietals dot the otherwise gray shades of cement and siding. The most prominent, however, are the lillies. The alley behind Diamond Lake Gardens has scores of Tiger Lillies and one grouping of Pink Asiatic Lillies – they are magnificent!

    All images available for purchase

  • They Ask Me Why I Drink & Then They Tell Me What They Think

    They Ask Me Why I Drink & Then They Tell Me What They Think

    Kenneth • Have you no shame, man? 

    Kal • Nope, none, no need for it. 

    Ken • You’re pissing in my yard, on my gladioli, at 3 o’clock in the morning.

    Kal • Yep. 

    Ken • What do you mean, ‘Yep’. 

    Kal • I mean yep, I’m pissin  in your yard – would you rather I pissed on your porch? 

    Ken • Are you drunk? 

    Kal • Yep. 

    Ken • Oh my god, what is wrong with you? 

    Kal • Well, whether it’s technically wrong I can’t say but I drink too much beer a lot of times, which makes a guy have to piss a lot: I’m manic depressive with a healthy side of anxiety- I got real bad ADHD, so bad my ADHD has ADHD; my septum got deviated when I was a younger fella so I’ve had snoring issues exacerbated by seasonal allergies & beer – the hoppy beers really do a number on my sinuses; I’ve had acid reflux since I could crawl, also exacerbated by alcohol & cigarettes & caffeine & sugar but I’ll get a case of it from drinking water; my stress levels are considered unhealthy, like standing down wind from a forest fire just breathing it in; I get Costochondritis pretty regular & randomly experience episodes of back spasms that register 70 on a scale of 1-10 – my whole body locks up, like early onset rigor mortis- lungs can’t even let air in or out, feels a lot like being stabbed 1,000 x a second & it’ll last 5, 10, 20 seconds, normally, might happen 4,5,6 times in a couple minute period, then go into hiding for 5-6 hours before popping out again; this can go on for a day or 2 & as long as a week, & the only medication that’s ever really helped is considered too dangerous cuz it can cause addiction issues but hell, I’ll take addiction over that shit any day; 

    Ken • Jesus, how are you even alive… you are alive, aren’t you?

    Kal • far as I know I am but I haven’t asked anyone recently, you might be onto something. Anyway, I haven’t had a good nights’ sleep since before the Donald’s decision to reignite the Confederacy’s drive to “do it again”. 

    Ken • Sorry, the Donald? the Confederacy? 

    Kal • Yeah, not the Duck, and not the Dunces – well, I guess the Dunces are implicated in recent events, and I’ve got the flattest feet in Maryland, according to my old podiatrist, he used to play with Jesus when they were kids, so I moved to Minnesota & stopped visiting podiatrists, still got flat feet but I don’t talk about it now; I’ve got a mitral valve prolapse condition which keeps my resting heart rate fairly elevated & my elevated heart rate at Mach 1; I spend too much time worrying about what other people think, though far less than I did 10 years ago, my bucket-o-fucks-to-give is empty, ran out last October; I empathize a great deal, like way more than what’s considered healthy by professional empaths – which makes people wonder how such a thing is possible for someone who’s all out of fucks-to-give, it seems contradictory at best and generally an impossibility if existing on the same plane, but it’s not impossible, not even difficult anymore, they’ve learned how to coexist within the anterior cingulate cortex – I credit cats with teaching me how to navigate that series of complex conditional responses, I lost my sense of direction once and ended up in Florida, won’t make that mistake again 

    Ken • What’s wrong with Florida? 

    Kal • Wish I knew cuz I’d try and help’em fix it, might just be karma for how they treat the manatees 

    Ken • Manatees? What’ve they got to do with it? 

    Kal • Boaters keep hitting ‘em, and climate change, pollution, stress, it’s making it harder for them to survive, Florida’s the culprit, not “Florida Man”, mind you, Florida, the whole State 

    Ken • Oh, I see, well, maybe the manatees could be placed in a safe location where there are no boats 

    Kal • Yeah, sure, maybe, and monkeys might fly out of my butt 

    Ken •  Oh, yes, I suppose it would be difficult to herd manatees 

    Kal • yeah, manatee herding is no longer taught in the public schools, one more reason to privatize education

    Ken • Wait, what about the cat herders, couldn’t they do it? 

    Kal •  If they weren’t all retired, I suppose they could, but the youngest one just turned 75, they’re all living in Japan, running cat cafés, interesting dudes

    Ken • I’ll say, I didn’t realize cat’s went out to eat

    Kal • Oh sure, they love it, crab cocktail with fresh nip, claw-n-eat shrimp, Salmon sake pâté shooters, raw tuna terrine in lobster butter broth, it’s basically fine dining for cats

    Ken • My, that sounds delicious, now I’m hungry, would you care to join me for an early breakfast? Eggs Royale and champagne sounds good – how about it? 

    Kal • I could eat – just let me finish pissin’

  • Supporting The Arts: More Important than Flossing

    Supporting The Arts: More Important than Flossing

    The Arts – all of them, provide us with emotional support, spiritual comfort, physical rejuvenation, and the mental strength to face pretty much whatever the world throws at us. Flossing, on the other hand, promotes gum health, removes corn detritus, assists mouthwash with keeping your breath from stanking, and prevents coworkers and friends from pointing out the green pop of color embedded in your teeth. Both important, but one far more crucial than the other.
    If you’ve ever cried while watching the EDS Cat Herders commercial (created by Fallon), you know the importance of supporting the arts. If you sing along to songs in languages you are not fluent in, you know the importance of supporting the arts. If you’ve ever stared at bathroom stall poetry in a rancid dive-bar latrine and wondered, “what exactly do they mean by ‘good time’?”, you know the importance of supporting the arts. The arts are; much like You are; I am; she is. They exist independent of everything and yet, they are interconnected with every fiber of the universe.

    Why supporting the arts matters?

    Art gives meaning, gives hope, gives inspiration, and sometimes provides an impetus for self-reflection & introspection. Art also brings us together, in support of something, or against another thing, or to celebrate, or grieve, or just be. It is art that first gave naming rights to clay wine vessels. Long before “The Bank“, Greek Gods were purchasing entire pottery studios in order to get their names painted on the earthenware that would hold the best wine. Aphrodite’s Awesome A++ Assyrtiko and Dionysus’ Deconstructed Drunken Debauchery were but 2 of the more famous amphora marketing ploys. And without this critical step in the world of advertising, we’d never have the iconic Guaranteed Rate Field – what a shame that would be.

    Without the Arts and without art, our world is nothing more than a magma infused orb assigned to breeding ground status for mosquitoes, sand fleas, and flying tarantulas. Support local arts. Support local artists. Support the people who make the protest songs and signs – they put themselves out there never knowing what awaits. For your community, for your city, for your fellow humans in the struggle – Donate, Give, Support. Local organizations re: Juxtaposition Arts, Springboard for the Arts, and Northeast MPLS Arts Association, in addition to many others, provide the space and mentorship that is otherwise lacking. There’s no time like the present to show your support for the community, the country, and the world.

    Thanks for reading and being a part of the local arts community. We appreciate you and we love your style!!

  • Cut Your Water Bill by 75% or More

    Cut Your Water Bill by 75% or More

    Water Bill getting to be too much? Here’s how you can cut that thing by 75% or more. This isn’t a secret, unless you like secrets; the thing is, most folks assume that they need all kinds of water for all kinds of activities – that ain’t true. If you’re swimming, you probably need water. Flushing a toilet? Water will definitely make it easier. Trying to put out the fire your kid started in the front yard – water is the ticket. Aside from that, you can do without a lot of your water usage. I’ve outlined a number of ways to reduce the speed at which your water meter spins and get the gallon guzzling under control.

    1: Stop doing dishes. You’re gonna eat off them again, yes? It’s just food on there, no need to waste water cleaning it when you’ll just get it dirty again. If it’s moldy, windex that shit, wipe with a paper towel and voila! What’s that, you’re not gonna use it again? Throw it away, fuck it. 

    2: How often are you showering? Anything more than once a month is too much. Oh, you work a job that makes you sweat a lot, that’s ok, use more deodorant, wherever you sweat. Put it on thick, that’ll stop the sweat from escaping those little pores. And if you’re living anywhere that the temperatures drop below 60 degrees for extended periods, you can just seal the shower off, you don’t need to clean up, you’re not that dirty. Maybe go jump in the creek once in a while, cut a hole in the ice if needed, but showering in cold weather is dumb. 

    3: Hand-washing? Stop! Why? Hand sanitizer, forks, spoons, knives, hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, rivet-guns, sticks, there’s so many options that don’t require water. I know, I know, hand-washing kills germs – so does Everclear, and it tastes better than soap, trust me on that one. Wash a little, drink a little, I can’t believe this didn’t catch on in the 19th century.

    4: Do you have a beautiful green “natural” lawn? Do you live in Phoenix, or Las Vegas, or Los Angeles? Or anywhere else that doesn’t provide for the organic upkeep of a lush emerald patch of earth? Stop watering! Grass grows just fine where it’s supposed to. If it’s not growing fine where you are, don’t try to be a hero and make your lawn beautiful just so the neighbors will feel bad about their patchy brown lot. Rocks are pretty and don’t require watering. Same for dirt, sand, driftwood, “weeds“, and any other shit that doesn’t require you to use water for their upkeep. If you feel the need to beautify the spaces around your home, hire an artist to paint stuff. Artists are really creative and they’ll come up with something that will provide a pleasing aesthetic for anyone passing by. If you’re living in an area classified as arid, semi-arid, or really cold, the idea of green lawns is just stupid. Stop it!

    5: Here’s the big one… you don’t need to drink eight glasses of water a day; you don’t even need to drink one glass, you just need to eat more fruit and vegetables and drink more wine and beer. Fruit and veggies are between 80-95% water, approximately. Don’t waste water by filling a glass to drink, eat healthy food and you’ll get all the water you need. Or, if you’re like me, not ready to give up Sourdough, Patty Melts, Kettle Chips, & Chicken Fried Chicken… and not able to handle the volume of fruit/veg in addition to more delicious foods, up your intake of beer and wine. Similar to fruits and veggies, beer and wine are 80-95% water. You don’t need to drink water; tap, bottled, rehydrated, recycled, hydrogenated, dehydrated, semi-arid or any other variety – wine and beer are here for your hydration nation party.
    If you need more of an incentive to change your habits, consider this. Farmers rely on water to grow our food (both from the skies and from local aquifers and rivers). Without water that food won’t grow. Without that food, we won’t survive. Without survival of our species, other species will thrive… forget everything I wrote, let the ecosystems have their way, let other species thrive, let earth heal. Our time here is limited, a couple hundred years from now the wolves will ask the caribou, “where’d the weirdos go?” And the caribou will reply, “they faded away – returned to the cosmos to create new stardust”. That seems like an appropriate place to end.

  • This Episode of Phantasy Phishing Phonemes – With Special Guest Vincent Van Voort – is Brought to You by The Letter V

    This Episode of Phantasy Phishing Phonemes – With Special Guest Vincent Van Voort – is Brought to You by The Letter V


    Vanity vet vein vane viscous various visa vegan voracious vis varicose veteran vigilante vestibular valiant voricarious ventoux valentine vacqueyras valor ventriloquist vanlife vehement vigor Vixen vaccination Vrabel vickers Vicks Volvo vagabond viscious Vegasbound veer vie Vermonter vim vigor Verronaisse Vienna Villa Villanova vogue Villaserra Ville vague vogue vici votel vent vast Vanderwaal vibe vinyl vapid verstuben vomit vagus ven Venn veep violin viola veni violet vaginal vulgar vanilla Voltron vedi venal Vans verifiable Viking Vizzy vin v.i.n. vine vino veritas very velum visual valium vector Victor venice Victrola vey visit vo visitor vacuum vroom vape volley victory Veronnaise valley VA vero voyage vole vichiyssoise Viognier variable Vermentino vied viščiukas vex Volodymyr village value vest vintage Vespa veal vaccine vieux Veramonte vista view vantage vanish verde viejo VonDutch VanHalen vat Veronique Vicki vigo vitriol vienna venom vermin Vesper vote vespers Vishali Vishal VanGogh vale Vietnam Vindaloo vile Vader vendetta Venus Vulture Visigoth vow verbatim Vanna Vanee VanDuzer vignette vision vasal vessel vortex Voss vase veil victim visage valencia vermilion vegetable vail vermouth visible valerie vicinity vibe ventricular vanyo virtue vasectomy vestibule varmint viscitude vandal veranda vancouver vinaigrette vice vladivostok vette viticulture vacant viniculture vineyard verbose vetrinarian verklempt vaxxer vox vex vernacular vascilate virgo virgin virgina vance vince verstrology vitology virology vampire velcro voice vanish varnish voldemort valdosta valkyrie venture

  • It’s coming along

    It’s coming along

    The site is coming together and I take partial credit, like in high school when you 1/2-assed a homework assignment and the teacher said:

    Well, it’s better than nothing, which isn’t saying much, but you gave it a shot, though not a very good shot, in fact if it was a basketball, the ball would have never left your hands… actually, nobody would have passed you the ball in the first place so you wouldn’t even be in the position to consider a shot, unless you were considering somebody else taking a shot, which is maybe what happened here – you got to thinking about your classmate’s doing their homework assignment and figured that because they were going to do a great job you didn’t need to create more work for me, given I already know all about the subject and because you have no immediate plans to work for NASA after graduation. And for that consideration, I thank you, and give you an 8/57. If you put your name on your paper, next time, I’ll add a couple tree points.

    Now for the update

    So anyway, six photo galleries are up, new ones will pop up occasionally, blog posts will continue regularly and unscheduled and never on time, and never being content, I’ll continuously update content in the off chance that anyone visits the site more than once. It’s coming along. I’m thinking about how I want to run the “store” piece of this site. Once that’s ironed out, photographs will be available for purchase via whichever service I’ve latched on to. And finally, the donations page will be up and running soon. Monetary donations and art supplies (new &/or good condition used) will be directed towards Public Schools, Community Centers, Senior Centers, and Services for individuals experiencing mental and/or physical health conditions. It’s coming along. I’m also trying to get my head around a gift option. Something where people can make a donation in exchange for a gift for a person, place, animal, etc. Nothing huge, no giant loon sculptures or 6’x12′ oil on canvas but a small piece of art – 1 of 1, maybe a bookmark, a painted notecard, a Thank You note, etc. etc. It’s coming along. If you have ideas, let me know.
    For my part, 8/57 is pretty ok, I do better on the art homework. Hope to see you soon.
    And a huge Thanks to Nate for all the work and expertise you’ve provided – Happy Trails

    MamaCat & GreyBear in the Robinson Street Alley
  • T-Shirt Ideas for Toddlers

    T-Shirt Ideas for Toddlers

    Hey! Everybody… Fuck You I Won’t do what you tell me  

    Fuck off & Die  

    you can take your peek-a-fucking-boo & your goochie fucking goo & go fuck yourself 

    if you don’t stop, I’ll kidney punch you until you piss blood 

    No! I’m not tired, I’m not sick, and I’m not hungry, I just hate you!  

    Will you please do me a favor and shut the fuck-up!

    Hey, fucker, that’s my fucking cupcake, get your grubby fucking paws off it! 

    pinch my cheeks, lose a fucking finger 

    Blow it out your ass, like I do: 

    Fuck pants & fuck you!

    I’ve been screaming for 13 fucking seconds, where the fuck are you? Don’t be mad, just get me a fucking snack, STAT! 

    I love you, you love me, If you don’t quiet down RIGHT NOW, I’m gonna piss on your head

    I don’t give a fuck who you are, back the fuck up 

    Drop it like it’s hot, no, not me, asshole

    Yes, I’m eating sugar from the bag, fuck off