As I think about these e-notes, they are like my diary/sketch book of ideas and sometimes items I’ve posted on a social media site or in the comments to a on-line post.

I like to own and keep my stuff so posting on a social media site is giving it away, unless I add it to my site and then it’s sharing.

I’m ok with sharing and not ok with giving it away… these are from Dec 2015. Looking back on my writings it seems I write a lot from my birthday into Jan… guess xmas stress is a real fire for emotions.



Engineers trying to predict human actions based on patterns of behavior only tells of their programming bias.


Politically correct is only correct depending on the politics you follow or worse, the politician who you believe is correct.

Correct is for those looking for control.

Respect or indifference and an effort at understanding is for the rest.


Never traveled to the holy lands and sands of other tribes…

My holy spots were that of my generation.

Cbgbs…the discord house.


It’s hard not to be typical when leaving the underground and entering society.


There is no such thing as politically correct in a true checks and balances, democratic society. Politically correct is a one way road… I will Go all ways, always.


I’ve had Lemmy Kilmiester shake my hand and thank me.

I’ve had Anton Lavey shake my hand and thank me.

I’ve had Seka shake my hand and thank me.

I’ve had Ian Mackaye shake my hand and thank me.

I’ve had Dennis Banks shake my and and thank me.

I’ve had John Sinclair shake my hand and thank me… And he called me a fucking PUNK!

True story.

Part of the story.

In need of a clap.

and a hug…

To be continued.


As far as cops killing black kids and the cries of white privilege, that privilege only goes as far as the color of the cop. The race divide is promoted and accepted because it’s easier than explaining the class issues and how the entirety of the working class are slaves to a system that expects 5 days of your life for 2 days of freedom and one of those free days will be used to do chores, not love family.

No time for love… No time for civility… No time to care for anyone but number one, and that number one is the one who signs your paycheck.

A living slave wage.


I’m always amazed how folks want to attach themselves to my history without giving credit to me or my wife for all we have done.

Many want to tell my story, Amy’s story, our story.

I guess it’s due to their lack of personal story.

It’s truly amazing to me.


Maybe art is the start of intelligence, it’s the start or the end.

Is it base intelligence or supreme intellect?


Ron Lerner, a kid I grew up with… Rumor has it he was chained to a bed and beaten for days… I knew he had cigarette burns on his chest as he’d show them off every once in a while… He made me feel better about my life, I remember thinking something like, my father only whips. Kicks and punches me, he’d never tie me to the bed or burn me.


Saying yes is more fun than saying no. My friend Kate gave me those words of wisdom. They are hard to argue.



You can not be a politician and be anything but politically “correct”… It’s what they do. Correct for them and not for you.

Correct in the mind of voters.

Politics as usual.

The greed leading the unwise.

Define correct…

Correct for who?

Correct for that bank account.

Define correct.

The bully is always correct.

It is the downtrodden who are known as incorrect.

Know your lot.

Your zipcode.

What the think about you.

How they treat you.

Politically incorrect is reserved for artists and authors and intellectuals

Inventors and Creatives look at things different.

They invent new.

Not more of the same.

Not catering the the factory brain.

Going back in time, acting the same, is nostalgia.

Not progress.


You can not be a politician and be anything but politically “correct”… It’s what they do. Correct for them and not for you.

politically incorrect is reserved for those with a creative mind… Not nostalgia, but progress.

You can’t be a politician and be anything but politically correct. It’s a numbers game yo!


I go for a lot of walks now… At nights owls fly by… The other night an owl stood at the side of the road… I’ve seen that owl there before… In the day I walk by sea lions and eagles… About a week ago, Amy and I stumbled upon a PAC of elk, they were eating and looked over stairing at us… I waved and kept walking… Yea, not going to stair back and a hored of elk. Not real sure what keeps me in the house, but this isn’t Chicago. I must fight. I like to fight… And will, thee will.


We have entered a new age, the age of excellence, where so much is possible. It really seems like all can contribute to the shaping of the future.

And the conversation has changed…

Words are scrutinized.

We live in a transparent world.

That is cool… If trust is the golden rule.

The technology is here.

The who, what, where and why are not.

It’s time to sculpt.

It’s a time of abstract and surreal.

I sometimes think that’s all the animal knows.

Abstract and surreal.


Artwork is personal, much like voting… In a social situation I take offense to having to defend, describe or explain my art and personal expression.

The personality shouldn’t be held and judged at a whim by those looking to compete in the petite at of ways.


I’ll tell ya something.

It was my mother that killed me.

My father, he hurt me…

But it was my mother that killed me.


The culling of the lower class.

Sadistic and to some a joyful cleansing. Only thru history do we animals feel pain… Present day we wipe it away, nostalgia gives distance for righteous indignation, sympathy and compassion… For who, only those who guard the stories know.

Let’s talk terror. Please, let’s talk terror… And boarders and gun control too.


Bob Rudnick

An old guy.

He was a white panther

Like a black panther, but white.

Bob was a lot of things.

We hung out a lot.

He was on the nod a lot too.

His history, as he told it, was no big deal to me.

I was living mine.

driving him to score all the time.

Bob was cool.

And smart.

He really got it.

And shot it…

in his arm and to his brain.

Bob schooled me.

I remember the kiddie porn playing cards.

They came from underground cartoonist Skip Williamson from the playboy mansion via the L.A. Police…

Or vice versa.

Those cards had an EVIDENCE tape seal

that was unsealed.

Wild how kiddie porn was sold in porn shops in the mid seventies.

Wild how Bob reacted to my discovery.

I know at some point we stopped hanging out.

I probably ran out of use.

I have fond memories of stories

And history from the horses mouth

Of a Fred Hampton education

With first hand accounts

And photos from the day,

From the trusted of the panthers.

I learned a lot in those days.

I met a lot of history, in the flesh.


The holidays with Amy bring joy and despair.

How I long for the days before ely

And the days of ely.

When we had a naive bliss.

And our time was ours.

To share with no one.

No mater who.

Or what.

No matter

But for self.

The self of knowing

Two makes one.

A nap a day.

Time to play.

And we worked all night.

Our work was our life.

So we lived all night too.

Late night burritos.


Afternoon delight.

More naps.

Baking for no reason other than taste.

Inventing a soda company

Listening to iron maiden

Owning one of the first internet radio stations.

Listening to slayer

Johnny and jane apple seeds of podcasting.

Listening to the crucifucks

Publishing obscene books

Listening to possessed

Putting on three day music and art expositions

With no help

With hundreds of acts and artists

Listening to venom

“I gave the audience too much.”

I heard in an interview

The guy was a promoter

He’d just put on an amazing concert

It traveled across Canada on a train.

Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix among the acts.

I relate with the idea of “giving too much”.

I think I did.

I think we did.

In the context of a moment.

Of an ego.

As far as reaching and climbing as high as you can.

That is every beings duty.

It’s an evolutionary empirical truth.

You must try and as hard as you can.

It can be fun within the struggle of life.


The personality, the mind…. Freedom of thought


hey,.. Important news flash. Businesses make decisions based in numbers… Politicos use business decisions as a soap box to sell their decissions. Interesting, but I’ll go with numbers over emotion as far as plastic shit goes.


Hitler was politically correct.

All politicians are.


Silly to illustrate the end of culture with film, A medium that has seldom been about art or culture. The death of culture was the loss of time square sleaze to Disney, and that set off the trend that, eventually, museums followed, now, 89% of the museums program for the child’s whims and wants over challenging, threatening or intellectually stimulating the youth and their captors. The decline in thought, I’d bet, has a direct tie in with how much folks work, how meaningless the work is and how much they just need a fucking break and escape vs. another challenge.



Religion is where philosophy goes to die.

In the thoughtful society, we should, at the very least mock thoughtlessness.

Religion is where thought goes to die.

Their clock exists to break the magic.

10 day cycle is what I’ve found.

It the 10 days you need to manifest your will.

The clock of today.

Breaks all magic.

Breaks the will

The heart

The mind.

Five days then break.

Breaks the will.

Breaks the stream

Breaks the thought.

Breaks the twig and the back.

Brakes over.

Back to work.


I sometime think I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone.

What I think I might mean is, I wouldn’t wish my death on anyone.

My life, the one I chose, is amazing and exciting.

It is my life side I love and would wish on everyone.

My death side is my nostalgia.

My past.

My death.

My murderous stalker.

I wouldn’t wish my death side on anyone!

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