The Lexicon Artists

Fav Film: UP Fav On-Going TV Show: Flashfoward Fav TV Mini-Series: Torchwood-Children of Earth Fav. Helene Quote: "Dad, you so silly!" Fav. Martha Quote: "..." with raised eyebrow over beautiful blue eyes Fav Book: The Road by Cormac McCarthy Fav. Late Night Snack: Spoonful of Peanut Butter Fav. On-Going Comic Series: The Walking Dead Fav. Comic Mini-Series: Blackest Night Fav Song: You're Ex-Lover is Dead by Star Fav PS3 Game: Uncharted 2 Fav PSP Game: Final Fantasy Dissidia Fav DS Game: Retro Game Challenge Fav PC Game: Captain Forever Fav Ipod Touch App: Spider Fav. Thing to Watch at 5AM: The Prisoner (1960) Fav Family Event: NC trip in the summer Fav Tech Development: The Dawn of the Net-Lets (netbooks meet tablets) Fav Starbucks: 49th street and 16th in Hialeah Fav Online Troup: Mega64 Fav Podcast: Tie - 1UP Yours and Rebel FM Fav Late-to-the-Party Moment: Discovering how great Fallout 3 is... Fav ...

Seven Stages of Man according to Shakespeare All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players, They have their exits and entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws, and modern instances, And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side, His youthful hose well sav'd, a w...

This is a confession of sorts. My daughter Helene loves Ice Age. She watches it repeatedly, ad infinitum, without any indication of ever tiring. All of this is fine, a whim that most parents indulge, but the problem is that she hasn't really seen Ice Age...well, not completely. What she has seen is our abridged, edited version. If you're familiar with the movie, there is a scene where the saber-toothed tigers attack the village, and the mother flees with the baby, eventually sacrificing herself for the baby. This scene, which is a critical plot point that illuminates one of the main characters, is conveniently, repeatedly, ad infinitum, without hesitation omitted. As parents, we have decided that it is too much, that she doesn't need to know yet that parents can, and eventually will, die. So whenever we get to that scene, we skip to a more appropriate part. I could easily hide behind the shield of trying to be a good father, one that protects his child from the h...

Cut-Up of MySpace Bio from fortunately all openly on printed self life no longer able to be himself. Cats, silly, are the same for many posts in all think for a lifetime consider that he doesn't Insert years from cats mainly the words are mainly all he has life doesn't think about lives doesn’t think about written words that are fond of life bonded, focused on miscommunication lives in too many words Numena Theory = himself communication blessed all studied, printed lifetimes written on this paper he loved blessed words that fortunately encountered him for real

you are my Kara Thrace every time i turn around , you always ( disappear ) .

July 2009 - Chapel Hill, NC While wifey was snapping pictures away during our trip to see some friends, I tried to do the same with some words. A spattered rust pattern at a suspicous distance from a urinal in Wilson Library CH Two individuals talking; one versed in conversation, the other socially awkward. A sign that mocks the title Speed Bump, defiantly renaming itself a Speed Table. An alley that screams allusions to Thermopyle, the hot gates. A street infected by the plague of consumerism. An art exhibit that reminds me that the parting gift from the Industrial Revolution is that all Art can only be -from here on out- collage, a permutation of objects, repeating itself over and over, ad infinitum...ad nauseam...leaving us completely, eternally -from here on out- and utterly fucked... An 18th century Mater Dolorosa, wood and fabric, whose pained expression is more than I can bear, more alive than I will ever be. An early sketch of Hercules Strangling Cerberus by G...

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