bobot eyes

people talk of paying attention to the little things, or how its the little things in life that matter.
as my lady mentioned in her blog, everything is a first to the belly monster.
and its true, so i thought id just take a second to really thank the little man for re-introducing me to those things, and giving me the chance to really appreciate all that is itty bitty, the way that he might .
i feel an odd sense of selfishness (having an opportunity to live as a child,a three month old baby is giving something to me that in thirty three years my parents never could) if that makes any sense, i just hope that i give to him even even a fraction of what he has given to me. i have never seen turtles the way i did that day.....
i have butterflies just thinking about tomorrow , and what we might discover, what he might teach me.
babies have robot eyes, i imagine those big round beauties just scanning every dimension of our little cosmos, absorbing,filing, control alt delete, and repeat.
i dont know if he has a system down yet, but his jawns are in order. the dome has come equipped with all the latest womb approved technology. little does he know now that by the time he hits thirty, hell need an external storage unit for all those 1's and 0's he picked up, thats where i come in.
and explain to him that my answer to this issue, was his mother she is my external hard drive,
so now, with her help, and some sort of cosmic ,karma, i might actually have the opportunity to recall each and every one of these memories of turtles.
my inspiration for today is the mrs to my immediate right, (that puts up with me doing this night after night, scooping her leftover rice, asking me if id want some,) and the fact that she cares enough to think that i might possibly want some

of time and wax

with as hectic as my life has been in the days of late, ive taken to my dear friend photography for a bit of conversation. i write about my child, the belly monster, my mrs, sugar, and the general state of affairs in my little cosmos. but its what i dont write that is the mass of my being.
its all been peachy.
i can bitch about the mighty dollar, and how mine are rather weak. ive always said i have deep pockets and short arms.
the general state of affairs has me in a whirlwind of love and kindness,whole hearts,and happy minds, i must say though, limited to he confines of my family. the rest of the state takes me dry and deep. yes, i take refuge in my work, and the rare acquaintance, but they are brief.
usually i type of some other other type shit, and a general mumble of the day to express the respect and gratitude i find in my partner and child, i am thankful for what i have been given, and i promise myself daily that i will remain an active participant, for i have created something larger than myself ,for which i now am responsible.
during this conversation with photography, i must say the fellow went for a gut shot.
i took to chronological order with the backlog, and came across what you see below.
five days after the birth of my son, he was admitted to dell childrens hospital. by my own admission, one of the most overwhelming trials of my life.

crying alone in an elevator ,having three floors to compose yourself, when youre going to get snacks, can be a rather humbling experience.
i took care in editing this photo, to make sure that most every time i view it, i will remember that elevator. i lived a lifetime in the illumination of each numbered button, bringing me closer and closer to the present tense, waiting in the east wing, in a plastic box, filled with tears and hope to only be held.
the days pass, without question. some slow, others just blinks.
that day will remain suspended in time, with the touch of every elevator button, the ring of every floor, the weight of a plastic bag in my hand, the scent of filtered oxygen,faux wood paneling,fresh wax,vitamin water,tooth brushes, and every tear that might roll down my cheek.

those three floors told me of the future,my resolve as a father and lover,and the insignificance of time
this so happens to be the image that accompanies them.
i would say to take from it what you will, but to be honest.... there is nothing to take.
be well,
my inspiration for today is photoshop, and gramatical errors due to rushing to bed

my day

new machine, i sent out last week to my dear friend steven huie , out of fly-rite in brooklyn , NY. i found it to be a great compliment that one of the greatest influences on me as a fledgling tattooist has bought a machine i built. i dont often stroke myself (well my ego at least), but ive got to say, i felt damned accomplished the day he ordered a machine from me.
so here it is,
it is the "J" machine in the paul rogers tribute series that i am working on (they are A through Z).
if you have any interest in ordering one, or might know a friend with some interest in a machine built by a misanthrope with hate in his heart, hey send me a message. they run for the same price that paul sold them for, so that should say alot given the change in the economy from when he was selling them in the eighties.
but yeah, im proud of the machines i build, i dont use any mass produced shit, my main tools are a dremel,a screwdriver, and a lot of love.
the love really tends to get things running smooth.
that is a rather nice segway into the usual mush i put here about my life, my love, and my general pursuit of happiness.
it would be redundant to create another entry about the fabulous woman that is my partner, and the righteous belly monster that is my child, but hey, it works for advertising. so ill send it home once more.
mrs, you are my heart,my salt, and my every ounce of joy, for you, i will not move my arm(if you know what that means, you really know of love)
belly monster, you are the googling,gurgling, grimey little ball of smiles and spit, around which i orbit, you are my sun. without your warmth and light i would simply return to ash.
if you follow me here with any regularity, or are the occasional passer by, know that i write these things not only for my partner, my child, and my peace of mind, but i write them equally so for you,
so that you may one day be able to recognize the love that i know , as your own.
it is there, in the cosmos,
for me, it is sitting in a chair with a puppy in its lap, telling me about how tired she is, and that is why my words will end.
my inspiration for the day is that i have found patience in a woman, and a toothache that is not my won

im pretty pumped about my life right now, as in the immediate ... right now,
and the hour that will follow. i will finish this post, and my cigarette, wash my hands, pick up my little monster of the belly sort, bring him to the bedroom, and then create a row of spoons, me being the biggest,
my lady in the middle, and then the little man on the end,
somewhere im sure , hunny bear will enter the equation.
at this point, a festival of the cuddle variety will begin.
this is how i end each and every day,
there is surely an argument for this making me the luckiest man on the face of the planet.
each morning i rise to the sight of this woman and child, they make my life whole,
rather than burden the reader with details of my gratitude, i will simply state that i am blessed,
i am aware of this.....
i contend that there is no epic tale of passion and love that may emulate this gift. if it is to come, i am to be its author.
with the does and donts of my morning there is a simple activity i complete without fail, and will ask you the reader to follow suit.....
somewhere between brushing my teeth, watering the plants, and looking for my keys i find a piece of paper, whether it be the back of an envelope, or a paper towel,
and i write,
i write a note to my mrs, and to my child,
i write a note thanking them for their love,
i write a note to remind them that i appreciate each and every smile they bring to my day,
i write a note to let them know that no matter how late i will get home,no matter how terrible the day,no matter what obstacles it may bring, i will return to them .

and most importantly ,that this is my one and only desire...that i do return to them, bringing every ounce of gratitude and thanks that left with me in the morning.
i sign it with my love, and leave to meet the day.

find yourself a pen, it is capable of many things.
mine captures moments i might not ever meet again, but most importantly it lets my love know that out of sight is not out of mind


my inspiration for today is eleven pounds thirteen ounces, and making a queen size bed feel like a twin

this domepiece comes with optics. fluid lenses,constantly collecting data of the dope that is my sapling. the seed has been spread, on your face?, not this time nukkas. the seed has fashioned itself a swaddling little monster of the belly style.

boobie milk has reached the belly, and finally found its home in my beard, via the righteous workings of the little wonder i call a son. thats right son, a son

my bundle of cosmic karma expresses himself with the spit stylings of raucous rabble-rousers, way deep into westward expansion,

some cosmic gold seekers, they inhabit my child and cause him to use my face as a spittoon. (google didnt even correct that shit)

i make sure to keep my head up when its time for the nappy swap, the little dude has some range when it comes to number two time. and that he do do.

yeah cosmic, do dah dipity, and real damned intense if you ask me. entering the ranks of beard wielding super troopers called dad has done me quite well these past months.

we call him eight weeks now.

little me is super official, his shit is trill, and by shit, i mean his scene, and by scene, i mean his surroundings of the immediate style. momma has some ever expanding glands of the mammary fashion. poppa is trim slim, and looking to battle down some serious cuddle monsters.

like never ever (yes in the outkast sense) before, my way of the milky variety has a center, he calls himself llewellyn, and he doesnt take kindly to lew.

whether im serenading him with a cappella metallica, or deep diving in the do do buttery goodness that inhabits his lower abdominal area,

i must be true, the little man is a life changing,

everyday,

whether text,or mail,or call,or knock... to contact me of the tech type is second seat to the fresh hype.

little man rules the roost, class is in session and soapy spongepiece in my sapling is soaking it up.

love life my duders, it will most certainly not be there forever, start your affair now

i am without question ,in love.

now, i will speak to the people of the year 2000...

to you, my mister.(and any fellow with a bit of sense ).. if you come across a woman with even half the strength and beauty of your mother.... hold her tight, treat her right, and remind her each and every day that she is the reason the sun rises for you.

to my mrs... it would take a lifetime of hallmark moments to even begin to parallel that really squishy ,gay feeling you put in my heart. i will thank you , now, and every day i am able to rise by your side

my inspiration for today is the smile on my face, made possible in part by the aforementioned seed, and surprise visits from eastern friends.

word, p.s. i also gripped and ripped a bike, its a fixie, and will soon be fixed

a whole day at the compound with the mrs, and little mister.

looking forward to a time when were a little further outside of society, having conversations about moving slowly off the grid. a little land, a little man, and a big future. i cant say were asking for much. we want to teach our little boy the right way to do things.... and even the basic idea of doing things. i think its fucking sad that something as simple as changing your own oil,or mowing your own lawn has been completely wiped away in almost a single generation. all lost to convenience.

theres a bit to be said for the convenience of modern living, but i do believe theres far more to be said for self sufficiency. theres a great satisfaction that comes with knowing you are capable of providing for your family.

i am finding that task rather difficult at the moment, ive been a bit duped by the promise of comfort and luxury, at the cost of knowledge. this is something that will most assuredly change drastically over the next couple years. it is a horrible ,suffocating feeling, thinking that you cannot provide the type of life that you wish for your child.

and im not talking about anything lavish here, im talking about necessities. i cannot remember a time in my adult life that i have been this poor. as well, i cannot think of a time that i have ever been happier. sacrifices i suppose.

there is nothing worth more to me than the welfare of my mrs and child. this will continue to remain my focus in the coming months. i suppose im just pondering the difficulty of possession. and im making conscious efforts to possess less tangible items. this is something i will surely stress to my little boy, or as i like to call him, "the belly monster", or the "be ba", or "baby man"

and to my mrs, to whom i am reading this aloud, you are my life,my love, the reason i rise and fall with every day, it is to you that i owe a debt , the debt of gratitude for bringing to my life the wonder of my little boy.

and to you the reader, hold precious the love in your life, it is something of incalculable value, that i do hope you realize a lot earlier in life than i have.

my inspiration for today is wasted time, and the butterflies that come with the kiss of a beautiful woman

this will never pass

you think somewhere, somehow, that its possible.... but it will undoubtedly never happen to you. well it has indeed happened to me. i know a love so strong, for a woman, and my child, that it will most certainly never see a rival. for this, all my gratitude, and all my thanks.

today my inspiration is late night infomercials from horrible local tattoo studios, and knowing that i am capable of far more than i have ever given myself credit for.