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