4/25/2016

4/24/2016

New job

Been getting used to my new surroundings last week.  Interesting how ordinary and familiar it seems.  I like it.  I've also found myself re-examining past circumstances, choices, and people I've known.  Strange how it happens like a movie.  Some odd memory plays out in the mind and there is a new perspective.  I don't know what it is known as when this happens but I think it is part of the learning process. the aging process. Distance from some people makes you like them less, and some you like more.

4/22/2016

reminders


The first guy reminds me of Michelangelo's David, but anyway I thought this would be a good visual for a modern day food gathering sack. Lunch bag, or reusable grocery sack.


4/15/2016

Lake Elsinore California

Gazebo has gone to the birds.  White birds.   The kind that get released at a wedding and other ill conceived celebratory feature.  The Gazebo has caution tape around it. To warn visitors they will be crapped on by a gang of angry release doves that went rogue.  There is a giant pile of bird poop on the floor.  The birds hide inside the rafters you can hear them cooing.  Until....splat.

New job orientation took me to Lake Elsinore today.  An interesting little park but the pile of bird poo was the greatest part of the detour.




4/13/2016

MURRIETA: Woman says man who shot at her was ‘excited and exhilarated'

http://www.pe.com/articles/allen-799813-dement-friend.html

seemingly

I worked there 8 years.  What I liked about the job was buried too deep to recover.  Left behind for social engineers to pay consultants to study.  Piece together the findings of a lost civilization. Going back to a place where there is a vivid memory.  Once the landscape has changed there is no recreating the time the space the feeling.  The change in awareness makes it impossible to not know.  With new understanding comes new sensations.  You can't hold onto both at the same time.  The places the imagination can create.  The complexity each moment carries comes without enough time to allow the development of certainty.  Not stopping long enough to get used to.  Familiar. Thick. Crux.  The place in a wound that is the center of a scar.

My most memorable memory at that job.  I don't recall any details of that day other than:  I was cashiering.  A long line of customers.  Barely enough time to look up and see who I was helping.  A guy with a face tattoo on his left forearm.  I asked is that Jesus?  He didn't answer with words.  So I looked into his eyes.  He smiled with a surprised look on his face, surprised that I knew.  I said Catholics honor the Holy Face.  Now I've heard of people claiming to see auras and colors coming off people.  What I saw surrounding this guy didn't fit not one description I've ever heard.  Colorless like the ripples of heat on a hot surface.  There was a discernible warmth in his presence.  Perfectly balanced male energy.  A rare gem. A faith renewing experience.


4/08/2016

mental illness on a Sunday morning...continued:

I saw the guy parked in my neighborhood talking to a man.  (The guy was the guy who chased me on Sunday morning, because he thought his girlfriend was in my car.) When I drove by they started pointing at my car.  I had to sit at the stop sign to wait for a break in traffic.  I observed their behavior through my mirror.  He recognized my vehicle after I drove by because I'm sure he had my license plate memorized.  The good thing is he didn't follow me.

It is impossible to know what effect your presence has on another person.  This guy was insane about his girlfriend.   How I got juxtaposed into their reality is unknown.  When a couple pushes each other to the brink of insanity it can become dangerous.  He chased me thinking I had his girlfriend in my car.  I was scared thinking some strange car driving around my neighborhood slowly at 2:00 A.M. was looking to victimize someone, anyone.  I was on my way to work.

Neither of us knew what the other person was thinking.  Fortunately no one was injured with the high amount of reckless and dangerous maneuvering.  The yellow caution signs along the roadway couldn't have prevented this from escalating.  Posted speed limits, the call boxes, the reflective painted lines, the concrete highway divider; all the precautionary safety devices.  When a person has no way of doing a reality check things can get murky.  To the other drivers on the roadway we probably looked like street racers playing chicken.  To the police officers who took the report I probably sounded like I was a delusional old woman being chased by an imagining masher.

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4/07/2016

aboqe Text Flip

http://fsymbols.com/generators/aboqe-flip/

Storytelling and posting it upside down

  ˙ǝıl ǝɥʇ slɐǝʌǝɹ ɥʇnɹʇ ǝɥ⊥  ˙ɥʇnɹʇ ǝɥʇ pɹɐnƃ sǝıl ǝɥ⊥  ˙lnɟıʇnɐǝq sı uoıʇdǝɔǝp ǝɥ⊥  ˙pǝʇdǝɔɔɐ ǝq oʇ sʇuɐʍ ʎlǝʇɐɹǝdsǝp oɥʍ ǝuo ǝɥʇ uo ʎʇıd ǝʞɐ⊥


˙ǝǝs oʇ sǝʎǝ ɹno ɹoɟ pǝɹ sʍolɟ poolq uǝɥʍ pǝʇɐʌıʇɔɐ sı ʇɐɥʇ uıɐɹq ǝɥʇ uı ʇɹɐd ǝʌıʇıɯıɹd ɐ s,ʇI ˙uıʞs ǝɥʇ ɹǝpun pǝuıɐʇuoɔ sı ʇı ǝlıɥʍ ɯǝʇsʎs ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ ƃuıʌoɯ poolq ǝɥʇ 'ʎpoq ǝɥʇ ɟo ƃuıʞɹoʍ lɐuɹǝʇuı ǝɥʇ oʇ ʇɥƃnoɥʇ ʎuɐ sǝʌıƃ oɥM  ˙ɥsınƃuıʇsıp oʇ ʎsɐǝ ʇou ǝɔuǝnlɟuı ǝʌıʇɔnpǝs ∀  ˙pǝɹʇɐɥ ʎq pǝʇɐǝɹɔ ʎƃɹǝuǝ ǝɥʇ ǝʇɐdıssıp ʇ,usǝop ʇǝǝʍs ɯǝɥʇ dǝǝʞ puɐ sʇɥƃnoɥʇ ɹnoʎ pɹɐnƃ o⊥  ˙sƃuıǝq uɐɯnɥ llɐ uı sllǝʍp ʇɐɥʇ ʎƃɹǝuǝ pǝsnun ǝɥʇ ǝzıɯıʇɔıʌ oʇ ƃuıʇıɐʍ sı ʇI  ˙ʎƃɹǝuǝ ɹoɟ uo spǝǝɟ ʇı sʇıɐɹʇ uɐɯnɥ ǝɥʇ ɹǝƃuɐ ǝɥʇ 'pǝɹʇɐɥ ǝɥʇ 'ǝƃɐɹ ǝɥʇ ʎq pǝllıɟ sı ʇI  ˙ǝɟıl oʇ sǝɯoɔ ʇɐoɔ ssǝlǝɟıl ǝɥ⊥  ˙pǝɹʇɐɥ sı ʇI  ˙ǝƃɐɹ sı ʇI  ˙ʇɐoɔ ǝɥʇ pǝllıɟ ʇɐɥʇ ɹıɐ ʇ,usı ʇı ʇɥƃnoɥʇ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ pǝɯlǝɥʍɹǝʌo sı puıɯ ʎW  ˙ɔıuɐd oʇ ǝɔuɐɥɔ ǝɥʇ ǝʌɐɥ I ǝɹoɟǝq ˙ǝɥʇɐǝɹq oʇ ʎpoq ʎɯ puıɯǝɹ oʇ sǝʞɐʇ ʇı uoıʇɐɹʇuǝɔuoɔ ǝɥ⊥   ˙ƃuıʞɹoʍ doʇs plnoɔ sƃunl ʎɯ ǝʞı⅂  ˙ƃuıɥʇɐǝɹq ʎɯ ɟo ǝɹɐʍɐ ʎlǝʇǝldɯoɔ ʍoɹƃ I 'ʇsǝɥɔ ʎɯ uı ssǝuıʌɐǝɥ ǝɥ⊥  ˙sʇuǝɹɹnɔ ɹıɐ ǝlqısıʌuı ɯoɹɟ ʎɐʍɐ pǝɹɹɐɾ sı ʇɥƃnoɥʇ ʇxǝu ʎW  ˙ǝʇɐlɟuı oʇ ʇǝʞɔɐɾ ɹǝɥʇɐǝl ʎʌɐǝɥ ɐ ǝq oʇ pǝɹɐǝddɐ ʇɐɥʍ ǝsnɐɔ oʇ ɹıɐ ɟo ʇsnƃ lnɟǝɔɹoɟ ʇɔǝɹıp ɐ ɟo sǝɔuɐɥɔ ǝɥʇ ʇnoqɐ pǝɹǝpuoʍ puıɯ ʎW  ˙sǝʇɐlɟǝp ʎlʞɔınb ʇI  ˙ǝdɐɥs ǝʞıl uɐɯnɥ sʇı ʎq pǝlʇɹɐʇs ɯ,I  ˙ǝʇɐƃıʇsǝʌuı puɐ doʇs oʇ uosɐǝɹ ǝlqɐıɟıʇsnɾ oN  ˙ʎɐʍpɐoɹ ǝɥʇ oʇ ʞɔɐq s,ʇı ɥʇıʍ ɹǝʌo pǝdɯnls uosɹǝd ɐ ǝq oʇ sɹɐǝddɐ ǝdɐɥs ǝɥʇ 'ʇuǝɯǝʌoɯ ppo puɐ ʞɔınb ɐ uI  ˙uoollɐq ɐ ǝʞıl llıɟ oʇ ʇı sǝsnɐɔ puɐ ʇɐoɔ ǝɥʇ ɹǝpun pǝʇɟɐɹp dn ɹıɐ ɟo ʍollıq ɐ ǝʞıl sʞool ʇI  ˙ǝƃuɐɹʇs ɯǝǝs ʇ,usǝop ʇı ǝlɔıʇɹɐ ƃuıɥʇolɔ ɐ sı ʇı pǝɔuıʌuoɔ sı puıɯ ʎɯ ǝɔuO  ˙ǝʌoɯ oʇ ʇɐoɔ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ uosɐǝɹ ǝlqısnɐld ɐ ǝʞıl sɯǝǝs ʎq ƃuıɯooz sǝlɔıɥǝʌ ǝɥʇ ʎq pǝʇɐǝɹɔ ʇuǝɹɹnɔ ɹıɐ ǝɥ⊥  ˙ʇɐoɔ ɹǝɥʇɐǝl ƃuol ɐ ǝʞıl sʞoo⅂  ˙pǝʍollɐ ʇou ǝɹɐ suɐıɹʇsǝpǝd ǝɹǝɥʍ ǝɔɐld ǝɥ⊥  ˙ɯǝʇsʎs ʎɐʍɥƃıH ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇɹɐd sı ʇɐɥʇ ʇuǝɯǝsɐǝ ǝɥʇ ƃuıuıɟǝᗡ  ˙pɐoɹ ǝɥʇ oʇ lǝllɐɹɐd ǝɔuǝɟ ǝɥ⊥  ˙lıɐɹ ǝɔuǝɟ ǝɥʇ ɹǝʌo pǝdɐɹp sı ƃuıɥʇǝɯoS

  ˙pǝɟ sı lnos ǝɥʇ ɹǝʌo sǝʞɐʇ ssǝɔoɹd ǝɥ⊥  ˙uǝddɐɥ ʎǝɥʇ sıɥʇ ǝʞıl sʇuǝɯoɯ ɹoɟ noʎ sǝɹɐdǝɹd ǝuo oN  ˙pǝʌɐs ʇǝƃ llɐ sllǝɯs ǝɥʇ 'spunos ǝɥʇ 'sɹoloɔ ǝɥ⊥  ˙ʎɹoɯǝɯ ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇɹɐd sǝɯoɔǝq lɐsnoɹɐ ʎɹosuǝs ǝɥ⊥   ˙pıʌıʌ ǝɹɐ ʎǝɥʇ puɐ pǝʇɐǝɹɔ ʇǝƃ sǝıɹoɯǝɯ ǝɯoS

  ˙snldɹns ʎƃɹǝuǝ ǝɯıʇ ɯɐǝɹp ǝɥʇ ǝpısɐ ƃuıʇʇǝS  ˙pǝpɹɐɔsıp ǝq oʇ ǝnpısǝɹ dn pǝsn ƃuıʇɔǝlloϽ  ˙ɥʇʍoɹƃ ƃuıʇɐɹǝuǝ⅁  ˙ǝzılɐɹʇnǝu ɹo ǝƃɹnd oʇ ʇnduı ɔıxoʇ ƃuıʇɐlosI  ˙ʇuǝɯɥsıɹnou puıɟ oʇ sǝıɹoɯǝɯ ƃuıllɐɔǝᴚ ˙suoıʇɔunɟ uıɐɹq ǝɥʇ ʎɐʍ ǝɥʇ lɐǝɯ ɐ ƃuıʇsǝƃıp oʇ ɹɐlıɯıs sı ʇı ǝsoddns I  ˙ǝƃuɐɹʇs ɹo pɐq 'pooƃ sɐ ʎɐp ʎɯ ƃuıʎɟılɐnb ɟlǝsʎɯ ǝɔıʇou I  ˙ƃuolɐ ʇɟıɹp I ɹǝʌıɹ ʍollɐɥs ɐ uı ʇuǝɹɹnɔ ǝɥʇ ǝʞıl 'ʇı uı ƃuıʎɐʇs puɐ ǝuɐl ǝuo ƃuıʞɔıԀ  ˙ǝɯoɥ ǝʌıɹp ǝɥʇ uo ʎɐp ǝɥʇ ɟo sʇɥƃnoɥʇ ʎɯ ƃuılǝʌɐɹun oʇ pǝsn uǝʇʇoƃ pɐɥ I


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I had gotten used to unraveling my thoughts of the day on the drive home.  Picking one lane and staying in it, like the current in a shallow river I drift along.  I notice myself qualifying my day as good, bad or strange.  I suppose it is similar to digesting a meal the way the brain functions. Recalling memories to find nourishment.  Isolating toxic input to purge or neutralize.  Generating growth.  Collecting used up residue to be discarded.  Setting aside the dream time energy surplus.

Some memories get created and they are vivid.   The sensory arousal becomes part of the memory.  The colors, the sounds, the smells all get saved.  No one prepares you for moments like this they happen.  The process takes over the soul is fed.  

Something is draped over the fence rail.  The fence parallel to the road.  Defining the easement that is part of the Highway system.  The place where pedestrians are not allowed.  Looks like a long leather coat.  The air current created by the vehicles zooming by seems like a plausible reason for the coat to move.  Once my mind is convinced it is a clothing article it doesn't seem strange.  It looks like a billow of air up drafted under the coat and causes it to fill like a balloon.  In a quick and odd movement, the shape appears to be a person slumped over with it's back to the roadway.  No justifiable reason to stop and investigate.  I'm startled by its human like shape.  It quickly deflates.  My mind wondered about the chances of a direct forceful gust of air to cause what appeared to be a heavy leather jacket to inflate.  My next thought is jarred away from invisible air currents.  The heaviness in my chest, I grow completely aware of my breathing.  Like my lungs could stop working.   The concentration it takes to remind my body to breathe. Before I have the chance to panic.  My mind is overwhelmed with the thought it isn't air that filled the coat.  It is rage.  It is hatred.  The lifeless coat comes to life.  It is filled by the rage, the hatred, the anger the human traits it feeds on for energy.  It is waiting to victimize the unused energy that dwells in all human beings.  To guard your thoughts and keep them sweet doesn't dissipate the energy created by hatred.  A seductive influence not easy to distinguish.  Who gives any thought to the internal working of the body, the blood moving through the system while it is contained under the skin. It's a primitive part in the brain that is activated when blood flows red for our eyes to see.


Take pity on the one who desperately wants to be accepted.  The deception is beautiful.  The lies guard the truth.  The truth reveals the lie.  





4/06/2016

Alligator Lizard in the Alligator Plant


He hung out for quite awhile today in the alligator plant Bryophyllum daigremontianum



mental illness on a Sunday morning

I was chased by a crazy guy.  He chased me 30 miles on the 215 Freeway.  When the CHP finally caught him to find out why he chased me he told them he thought his girlfriend was in my car.  I don't know him or his girlfriend.  All you need is a reason.  The reason doesn't have to make sense the facts don't have line up either.  You can go berserk and as long as you have a reason everything you did during that time doesn't matter. As for me I'm thankful for my life after this incident. I'm supposed to be forgiving.

4/02/2016

Divine Word Retreat Center in the La Sierra Hills area *vandalized*

http://www.pe.com/articles/cross-798674-center-james.html


About 1:30 p.m. Wednesday, March 30, a neighbor called the Divine Word Retreat Center, near La Sierra and Cypress avenues, wondering if gusting winds and rain the night before had unearthed a 20-foot cross long perched on a hill behind the Catholic-run center.