I Scream, You Scream, The Icecream Screams...

Greetings, denizens of Blogland!!

Here's one of the pieces that I've been working on and one of my first finished Photoshop paintings.



Enjoy!

Ch... Ch... Ch... CHANGES!!

Yes, I am aware that most of you now have that song stuck in your heads. You've found me out. My dastardly plan is revealed. Congratulations, Bond. You've earned your license to read further.

Some of you who've been faithful followers of my random and infrequent musings here in blogland will notice that I've changed the name of the blog. This was done to unify all of my pet projects under one moniker.

The Clockwork Asylum.

In addition to posting here, you can also view my blog at TheClockworkAsylum.com and you can follow me on twitter here.

For all of you facebook users out there you can follow The Clockwork Asylum's upcoming projects here.

There are exciting changes on the way as I work to establish the Asylum as a force to reckon with in the artistic community!

Now, in the art business, exposure is the name of the game so be sure to fan me, share me, follow me, and otherwise help me to expose myself. :D

Stay crazy, kids!

- D

The New Yorker within...

I seriously don't know what it is about me that attracts the homeless and drug addicted flotsam of our society but every time I walk into a city of any size I am immediately accosted by someone who smells like urine and is "just trying to make bus fare."

I don't get it. I'm a big dude who has tattoos and piercings and a near permanent scowl that was issued to me by the Marine Corps. I don't walk around so much as "march" to my destination like I own it and the pavement between. Hell, I wouldn't approach me and I'm more than aware that I'm just a big teddy bear who plays a tough guy on TV.

The most recent offense was this past weekend. My friend Jon and I were in the city for the Dragon*Con staff meeting and had decided to go to dinner with some good friends of mine whom I hadn't seen in a long time. As we were leaving Hsu's Chinese Restaurant I was immediately approached by a guy wearing what looked like terry cloth "do-rag" on his head, a sleeveless Tommy Hilfiger shirt (I saw the brand patch on the bottom left front of the shirt) that had been roughed up a bit, and designer jeans and shoes that were in a fine state of polish for someone who hadn't "eaten in days." (Yes. I really am that observant. Ask anyone.)

Really, dude? I mean, REALLY?!

A) I know that I don't look stupid and B) you don't look homeless. How did you think that was going to end? Did you think that I was going to naively offer to pay for whatever imaginary affliction you dreamed up in the ten seconds it took you to walk over? Did you think that I wouldn't notice the seventy dollar pants you were wearing? Does this act work and if so can you introduce me to those saps? Because I have a Lunar Subdivision and can get them in for a small investment.

After I politely sent him packing my friends and I finished our goodbyes and Jon and I walked to the train station to catch our ride home. Along the way we were approached by a gentleman in a two piece double-breasted suit and fedora (Yes his shoes were polished, also. I didn't want to repeat myself.) He proceeded to lay out some sob story about his very bad day which included a hospital, a car, his daughter, his wife, something about being a preacher, and needing four dollars.

Jon watched in horror as I allowed the guy to continue speaking and several times I was tempted to laugh at him or to just stop him and walk away. But the guy's story was like something straight from a Wachowski Brothers film (overly complex and full of itself) so honestly, I just wanted to see how deep this guy's rabbit hole would go.

Again, I politely informed the individual that, if financial assistance was his need, that I was unable to be his benefactor and Jon and I walked quickly away shaking our heads in disbelief.

So what is it about me that attracts these unhygienic individuals like moths to a flame? Seriously. I need to know so I can make it stop. Because if I have to say, "Sorry, dude. I don't have any change," one more bloody time, I will start shooting hobos as a release.

Start Spreading the News...

So. Here I am, in New York city.

Dear God I love this place. I got up long before the sun this morning in order to shower and dress and make sure that all was packed and prepared for my first trip to NYC. My journey to airport via the MARTA system was uneventful. Unless you count having to listen to a woman who had the most manly three-pack-a-day voice I've ever heard as eventful, that is.

Once at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, things went smoothly for the most part. Apparently, my hair gel is considered a deadly weapon. It was confiscated along with my toothpaste and my shaving gel. Really, Atlanta? I mean, really?

The only other complication that I will note is that Spirit Airlines fails to print the concourse and gate number on your boarding pass so finding your flight can be an adventure. As you can see... I was more than up for the challenge.

The rest of the trip was great. I was lucky enough to be seated next to a nice gentleman who was able to hold an intelligent conversation with me and with who I had a bit in common. Its always a pleasure when you get to sit next to someone who isn't obnoxious or suffers fits of involuntary bodily functions. I count lugies and spontaneous gassy-ness among these.

Once I landed, I de-boarded the plane, collected my bag, and called a taxi to take me to my hotel; The Marriott Marquis on Time Square. Yes, you have my permission to drool and rant with jealousy. You may do so now.

I met my friend, Michael, at the hotel and after getting settled into the room I went out for a bit of exploring.

I went down into times square just to soak up the reality that I was standing in the middle of Manhattan. There was such an energy coming from the place and the people that inhabit it. I was inspired. I watched the people come and go. Even the pigeons seemed to know that they had just as much right to be there as I did.

The lights and sounds were near overwhelming but I soaked them up like a sponge to water. I was in heaven. Truly, I was.

After Michael finished his bit of business we went to dinner and then walked around Hell's Kitchen until we ended at Smith's Bar and Grill where we enjoyed a couple of pints. As we sat there, people-watching, I noted the diversity of the people here in the city and I fell more in love with the place. It was magic and I'm afraid that my words cannot do it the justice that it deserves. All, I can say for certainty, is that NYC feels like a place where I can belong and be happy.

I want to apologize ahead of time for the shortness and randomness of this post. Perhaps we had a few pints more than I thought.

-D

Mirror, Mirror...

When I was younger you could most often find me attached to my grandfather's hip. Understandable when you consider the fact that I worshiped the man. I loved and loved being with Papa (Pronounced Paw paw) so much, that most weekends would find me camping out at my grandparents house bugging him to go fishing and my grandmother to make pot roast.

Early one Saturday morning, Papa and I were walking out of Vaughn's grocery having just procured all the needed supplies for the day's fishing trip. For him that was a Styrofoam carton of night-crawlers, a six-pack of Budweiser, and a pouch of Redman chewing tobacco; for me that was an armful of potted meat food product, Slim-Jims, a pouch of Big League Chew, and a pack of Garbage Pail Kid collector cards.

Trust me. You can't catch fish without Garbage Pail Kid cards. It just isn't done.

As we were leaving the store, my grandfather and I passed a man who exchanged a quick series of grunts with us that only now, as an adult, do I realize was an attempt to cover hostility with civility. Still, even as a hyper-active eight year old who was both chowing down on a ham biscuit and trying to balance the menagerie of processed foods I was carrying, I was observant enough to notice the less than warm exchange.

Later, on the bank of the pond, our lines in the water and our floats rising and falling gently with the swell of the surface, I asked Papa why he and the other man didn't like one another. His answer didn't come right away. He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled deeply and said, "There's something about that guy that I don't like about myself."

I stared down at my potted meat and tomato sandwich and nodded to myself knowing that my grandfather had just imparted a profound bit of wisdom, even if its meaning yet escaped my understanding.

It would be many years later, as a young adult, that I would truly discover what my grandfather meant; that often when we meet someone who rubs us the wrong way, it's because we see in them a character trait that we despise. And often, that trait is one that we recognize in ourselves like a pair of alley cats, arched backed and hissing over the same territory. It's the purest kind of mirror and let's face it... no one likes to see their ugliness reflected back at them.

I found myself face to face with that same hideous reflection last week when I saw my tendency to be an insufferable know-it-all reflected in the attitude of a good friend.

Last September at Dragon*Con, a Science Fiction/Fantasy convention that is held annually here in Atlanta, I had the misfortune to fracture two of my vertebrae and collapse the discs between them (I swear this is relevant to my point). For financial reasons medical care has been scarce and recovery slow. Many doctors have had many opinions; the most recent (and most agreed upon) being that I need to lose nearly a hundred pounds; that being overweight was a strain on my body and that reducing it would help not only my back but with many other problems.

Well... duh.

Having always struggled with my weight, I decided that it was finally time to make the choice to be healthy.

Never one to do anything half-assed, I took the advice and ran with it. I began doing research on the proper way to eat, the correct foods, exercises that I could do in my condition; everything I would need to make this weight loss happen and permanent. I went so far as to calculate my daily caloric requirement and type it up in a nice format on my laptop. I was making a sincere effort; not to diet but to change my entire lifestyle. I was proud of that effort and the enthusiasm with which I was pursuing the goal.

When I presented the research to my friend, LK, to share what I thought was a successful first step on a very long journey, I was promptly told that my information was wrong. After a quick search on the web I was barraged with an onslaught of different and contradicting information.

It wasn't that LK's information was incorrect or that I minded the contradiction. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm passionate about learning and wish to learn all I can about every subject that interests me. It was the callousness and tactlessness with which she disregarded and flung aside my effort that offended. It abraded and stung. I was left feeling discouraged; all the enthusiasm drained from me. I called LK on her behavior, which understandably upset her, and she left leaving a sense of hurtful discourse hanging in the air.

Some time later, as I meditated in the soft light of a candle and the white noise of my A/C, I began to realize that what upset me most was not that LK had contradicted me or told me that I was wrong. What upset me most was that she had, unintentionally reminded me of one of my biggest character flaws.

No one would argue that I am intelligent (Humble, too. I forgot humble). Ask any of my friends and they will confirm my statement if my writing has not. However, I will be the first to admit that I can be quite inconsiderate when it comes to the intelligence and opinions of others. When you're wrong (or if I think you are)... I'll tell you and I'm not always nice about it. In fact, I can be altogether abrasive; tearing down another and leaving pain in my wake. It's a shortcoming that I struggle to leash on a daily basis and it was an unpleasant experience to see the flaw paralleled in my friend; to feel that tickle in the back of my psyche that says, "Hey. That's you."

At some point during my meditation I realized that I was grateful for the reminder that LK had given me. It corrected my perception of myself and I was able to reach a higher place spiritually as a result of the lesson that was learned; a reward well worth the momentary sojourn outside of my comfort zone.

So the next time that guy at work or that girl at the check out counter pushes your buttons and throws you left of your center, I encourage you to stop for a second and take a introspective look at yourself. Make an effort to discover if there is something mirrored in that person that you feel that you can improve in yourself. Make the effort to grow and ascend to something more than you are.

And, after that, if you find that you simply don't like the person... punch them in the temple. The look on their face will make you giggle.


-D