Dear @Keiracrowther,
Your video about too much unicorn stuff inspired me to draw this. Hope you like it!
All the best, Mark
PS I like pictures of bears! Just gonna put that out there…
She could peer down from her perch above and see the essence of the galaxy. The milky way spilled out below her and held the color of a black honey caramel, light pale but still holding the deep dark amber of it’s true nature, swirled around and around a million times into a cosmic soufflé, stretched far and wide so that the light of the heavens glistened off the surface and sparkled like the million lamps high above the pale blue dot.
The bronze colored bell jingled as Dr. Jacob Pruett walked through the doorway into Al’s Auto Shop. It was a small one garage shop that had never seen much business, but just never seemed to not see enough. No body thought it would ever close, and honestly, it probably wouldn’t. Its one garage was made only of white unpainted cement block. The sliding garage door was a distinct white, but had cracked and peeled over years of exposure. The windows were hazy, almost opauge in a strong summer sun and the rubber sealant that bordered the windows was faded and on the verge of coming undone. The only distinguishing feature of the entire structure was a green lamp that was screwed above the door, right in the center. It was made of a long rod that jutted straight out of the cement blocks. A conical shade that didn’t extend downward but an inch or three from where it was attached to the rod. It looked almost like a hat that sat precariously on the light bulb. Seemingly balancing on the metal neck of the bulb. It had been painted the deepest shade of green. The color made one think of a deep forest. A forest who’s history had been lost to the books.
Dr. Pruett walked to the counter of the shop, his suit creasing ever so slightly as he crossed the room, and hit the bell deliberately four or five times. A grayed man in faded Levi’s that were cinched with a leather belt of the man’s own handiwork came in from the door that led from the garage. His red flannel shirt sagged on the pocket side where he kept a pocket protector with various small tools. A white hat sat steadly on his head.
“How’s it goin’ Doctor?” asked the grayed man.
“It was going well enough until that damn automobile broke down again. The engine light came on a couple miles ago, and I had to coast into your car park. I thought you said my car was fixed? It’s in here so much I would have thought you would have it figured out by now.” replied the Doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell ya Doc. I do what I can, and every time you drive away. It’s them new cars thats doin it to ya. They just ain’t reliable. Let’s go on and have a look though.” said the man as he walked from behind the counter. His walk was a methodical step after step. It was as if each of his footsteps had a purpose, a distinct reason for going where it was going, and doing what it was doing. This was the way of the man. Methodical, with a certain vector. The two walked to the long blue car that sat upon the dirt parking lot. The sun shined off the car’s cloak of luxury.
“Would ya mind starting the car for me?” asked the man as he rested his fingertips on the hood of the car.
“Well, I suppose. Can’t you just plug something up to tell what’s wrong with it?” asked the man in return.
“Naw. Ain’t got one of those machines. I just need to hear it.” said the man. Doctor Pruett stepped into his car and ignited the engine. As the key turned a smattering of lights blinked on the dashboard, the car’s climate control flicked on fighting the temperature down to a pleasant 68oF. A talk show host’s voice poured out of the car’s speakers discussing the distinct benefits of a new operating system that would revolutionize every aspect of modern culture. The car ran a start up diagnostic scan resulting in a “Check engine” message displayed on the dashboard screen. The doctor looked through the windshield and saw the swells of wind pass against the man. The man leaned his head towards the car and surveyed the sounds of the engine, picking up on anything that was out of line.
“Well, what is the problem?” asked the Doctor.
“Ain’t nothin much. These new cars got a whole lot of bells and whistles, and you’re engine just can’t keep up. You keep throwin new stuff into a car and expecting them to run the same, but it’s can’t help but break down. I’ll be able to fix it, but don’t expect to never see me again” said the man.
“I’ll just take it to another shop then. They will know how to make it the repair permanent.” said the Doctor.
“You could try, but if I know anything at all, they’ll just throw something more into the car. Some kind of chip or something.” said the man as he put his hands in his pockets, ”It’s in you’re engine. That’s what makes things work. Just because engines have been around for a while doesn’t mean they were built for forever. You’ve gotta work with it if you want it to work at all. You can’t put more music on a broken record.” said the man.
“Well alright then. I wouldn’t want to pay for towing anyways.” replied the man.
“Won’t take but a bit. You can wait inside if you like. There’s a pot of coffee on the table.” said the man. Dr. Pruett walked inside and waited for the man to fix his car.
Before long, the man was underneath the car adjusting different aspects of the car to make the engine run. It was a rough job. There wasn’t much room to work. All sorts of systems and additions had been crammed into the engine compartment which made the essential parts hard to get too. The sun was setting, and the light from the fixture above the garage was the only light to go by. Eventually, the engine ran. The man moved from underneath the car shaking of the dust with his greased hands. He walked back inside and moved behind the counter. The doctor removed the speakers from his ear, the talk show host’s voice continuing ever on.
“You’re ready to go.” said the man. The doctor managed to pay the man and moved to go to his car. The bronze bell jingled once more as he walked out of the garage.
“I’ll be seein ya.” said the man as he lifted his hand in a wave. The doctor paused in the doorway.
“Hopefully I won’t.” replied the Doctor and he stepped out of the door.
The man looked on as his work was ignited to run the speakers in the car.
“I suppose you’re right Doc.” He said as he turned, “Hopefully not.” The car pulled out of the dirt parking lot leaving a cloud of dust sparkling in the the rays from the light bulb as the car’s cloak billowed in the wind.
adam gnade - “the winter; their apartment”
“we’d be so much happier” she says, “could quit your jobs and run away like you used to. back when you did things, just because it felt good… to run away and because you didnt worry so much, like you do now. just because, and leave the assholes behind and fuck em anyway, they don’t mean shit…”
This is very meaningful to me.
(Source: heymikewaskom)
Hank looked up from his seated position and noticed the clouds sliding by as if on a reel. A beautiful cosmic moving picture. As he looked on, the scene changed in his mind. It looked as if the clouds weren’t moving at all, but the world that he sat on was rotating inside a circle of images. It was like some one had drawn out a long stream of clouds on a a roll of paper, rolled It, and attached one end to the other. Much like the the design of a lamp, the bulb being the world that is known, and the shade the ever moving clouds. Too long for anyone to remember one part of it, but on endless repeat, revolving eternally around this world. The longer He sat, the more he began to believe it to be true. Life seemed to come down to nothing but the presence or absence of clouds.
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
There was once a man named Time who owned a cattle farm. No, he was not father time, nor did he have anything to do with the long vast continuum of Time, that was just his name. He had many acres of rolling hills filled with deep green grass, bright orange Butterfly Weed Flowers, lilac Joe Pye Weed, and many other flowers and plants that made the most beautiful mosaic when you looked out from the kitchen window. His house was a fairly typical ranch style that looked like it had been around for a very long time. Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t run down by the best man’s standards. Time had been diligent when buying his house to make sure it had been kept in shape, and he had followed suit. His personal ‘Honey do list‘ never reached more than four items long. Leaky water pipes were fixed deftly, and the weather vane was oiled before it could quite finish it’s song. Again, don’t misunderstand, Time didn’t sit around waiting for something to break, he had many a head of cattle to care for and no help to do it for him.
Time also lived alone. He had a horse, a few chickens, and of course cattle, but those are a pale substitute for another person. No kids, no family, and especially no wife. After she had walked out with another man for the fifth time, Time’s heart had broken down and just couldn’t be started again. It wasn’t so bad anymore. Time barely even noticed being alone anymore. Well, that is before Wine.
Time had a dog named Wine. Wine had been with Time since he had stumbled onto the front porch, nothing but a small bundle of fur and despondent yips and coo’s. He had taken in the little pup, settled him down with some warm mash, and sat in the lone rocking chair on his wrap around porch, thinking about what he wanted to do next. Time let Wine inside, and the pup immediately bolted about the house getting into far too much far too quickly. A quick grimace stuck on Time’s face, but he ended it’s life with a chuckle. He picked up Wine with two hands, and held him to his face. Wine rubbed his small nose against Time’s cheek and, tickled by his beard, sneezed in the perfect puppy fashion. The bearded man smiled and carried Wine to the bedroom and set him down next to the bed on a blanket. The puppy ran about the room, tugging on Time’s pants and being a general nuisance as Time readied himself for bed. The man turned down the lights, and deliberately stroked Wine into a prone stance. After a while, the puppy had settled down and understood what Time wanted. So, he rolled on his side, squirming a bit, and settled down to sleep. The man lay down in bed and thought about what the rest of his life would hold. Sleep came slowly, but neither noticed, for both couldn’t stop thinking about their new companion
Things changed for Time, as did things for Wine. A dog door was installed into the two doors of the house. Wine got used to two square meals a day, and nothing to drink but water. The horse became accustomed to the dog accompanying them. The chickens never did get used to Wine, but thats just chickens for you. Above all, Time learned what it’s like to live with something that you love. Both the dog and the man grew into each other. There was no longer two entities. They had grown into one.
In this process, Wine was to be taught to be a working dog. He was to learn how to herd the cattle from the outer pastures to the barn. It was slow going. Time first walked,well dragged, the dog on a rope, talking to Wine constantly, always petting him and coaxing him with treats and kind words, trying to cure him of his distinct fear of cows. As things usually do, Wine got better. He no longer had to be dragged, and would often run to end of the rope,which really was only about eight feet, and when he knew it was safe, bark at the cows. As things went on Wine learned more and more. Time put away the rope, but would still walk with Wine every evening. It came to the point where Time only had to call once or twice, depending on the mood of the cattle, and Wine would really do all the work. Time would eventually walk less and less. First he walked to the fence posts, then he would lean against the gate with one foot on the bottom rung and his two hands interlaced on the top rung. Eventually, Time only had to open the door and walk to the rocking chair, and then it was no longer needed for him to do anything. Time would just look at Wine with his glassy astro blue eyes and click his tongue. Wine would zip out into the field and round up the cattle. Things went like this for a very long time. Both parties continued on doing their part about the ranch, still growing into each other. Time became an old man and Wine became an old dog. Time was coming back from oiling that songbird of a weather vane, and paused. Posing like he used to when they were both still young for just a moment, his faded long-sleeve flannel murmered in the fresh wind, his white hair wavered, his eyes closed ever so gently for just a moment, and he took in deep fulfilling breath of the air he had come to love. He opened his eyes, swept them across his land and accepted the things that were. He walked back to his old porch and sat down in his old rocking chair. His old companion walked over and put his old head on Time’s old knee. Time looked at Wine with his eyes and Wine looked back. Time looked at the only thing that he was sure had loved him and said,
“Listen Old Boy, you don’t need to fetch the cattle today. Let’s just sit a while. It’s pretty tonight isn’t it? Yes, yes it sure is.” pausing here, Time scratched behind Wine’s ear, his favorite spot. Wine tilted his head a bit to one side and closed one eye, getting the full scratch.
“The sunsets were the only thing that kept me going before you came around. They’re nice. They don’t have any reason to be beautiful, they just are.” Time again paused. He put his hand under Wine’s jaw and squeezed gently. Time looked up and out across the plains. The cattle dotting the hills, grazing on the flowers. The milky blend of the colors of the sunset simmered in Time’s eyes.
“You know Wine, I just wanna say something without you gettin all up on me. Just take it as it is, and let that be enough. Can I do that? Ok, well here it is. You’re the best kind of friend an Old Boy like me could ask for. Aw, stop with that. Just sit here a while with me. Even you gotta agree it’s nice tonight.” Time paused one last time. He held his dogs head in his hand and drank in this moment. He remembered everything that life had dealt him. His whole hand was on the table. All the time he had walked home to a empty lifeless house, his wife gone again. He remembered the color of the pen and the taste of a tear as he signed the divorce papers. He remembered selling everything and moving away from anyone. He remembered shutting down his heart. He remembered everything life had given him. He looked at Wine and smiled.
“You don’t need to get the cattle anymore. It’s enough. Were both tired and were surely old. I know that’s all you think you can do for me and I know you want to, but you’ve done enough. If it was any other time, I’d let you go get ‘em, but not tonight. There we go, thats a good man. Just sit a while.” And sit they did, the colors splashed across the sky draining out. Time’s old eyes slowly closed, the sun was setting on his old heart. The rocking chair stopped, and Wine looked up at his old friend. He stood up, walked to the edge of the porch, took a long look back, and went to fetch the cattle once more.
I’m just so darn sick of being every one elses crutch. Tonight, a kid threw up in my apartment. There was four people on the couch, and a total of 6 people in the room, not including me. Post throw up, there were two, and they were my roomate and his girlfriend. My other roommate, dipped out in nearly half a second. He just walked into my room and “apologized”. Basically he offered me some sorry ass excuse and expected me to buy into it. It went like this
“Hey, thanks for cleaning that up” he said.
“Yeah, thanks for dipping out” I said.
“Well, I’m sick so I would have thrown up too and just made it worse.”
Before I say anything else, I just wanna say that on Tuesday, after he had already skipped a day of class and stayed at home, he said he was totally fine and wasn’t sick anymore. Well, you’re lying one of those times, so which one is it? I just wanna walk up to him and tell him all the reasons I know he’s wrong. I also want to tell him how many mistakes he’s making, and how he’s wasting this beautiful gift God gave us on stupid earthly pleasures like drugs and getting drunk. I want to tell him to just be REAL for two seconds. Just for one second stop and think. Just take a step back and look at your life. You say you’re a Christian, like me, but how, if at all, is it exemplified in your life? When was the last time you talked to God? When was the last time you did something out of love? When was the last time you held women with respect? Heck, when was the last time you went to church? I know what all the answers would be. I could go on forever. This guy isn’t the only one. Seems like there’s a whole school of people just like him, aside from a handful or two. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Helplessness, Lost, Hurt, and above all Tired. Of everything. I just want to be away for a day or two. Just recoup. This is gonna be disjointed, but I gotta end here. Good night.
