Sunflowers in the Fall

I just finally got around to taking some pictures of this, and it came out nicely.

heartbreaker

El Capitano!

Shopper

I wish I could have asked him who he was waiting for.

Aleja in draft

My draft of a painting of SuperAelja that I’m working on. She looks wonderful,and will be moreso when I get it right.

vietnam war

draft of a digi-painting I’ve been working on.

vulcan in repose

This is a shot of a work in progress.

The Hybrid Vampire Handbook

The Hybrid Vampire Handbook has been produced by Sappho Wolf

“Vampires are real!

“Impossible? Not at all. In fact more and more seekers are finding
the vampire within and looking into the wisdom and the way of the real
vampire community.

“The Hybrid Vampire Handbook has been written with you in mind. It is
a guide for the curious, for the exploring, for the novice and
experienced vampire, and for anyone who just can’t quite understand
how vampires can be real.

“By “hybrid” we are talking about how vampires “feed” on life force
from many different sources. No blood-letting, which has gotten
increasingly dangerous, is required for the real vampire experience.”

By vampires, for vampires, about vampires!

Now, I have my own opinions on this whole notion of vampireness and its performance in post-victorian contexts, but we should still applaud anyone who gets a book out the door!

I’m sorry, but I’m not real

What better mentor for a 10-year-old than Charles Manson? Little Billy seeks life advice, and America’s most notorious killers are happy to oblige

people believe anything! Just cause you’re a killer and you get email from a child don’t mean it is real!

on the edge, poem 31

At the border, on the waterfront, on the beach,
a calm salt surf kisses our slippers
of brocade and gold thread slightly
damp from the cool moist sand.
We stand together, three of us, looking
out across the water towards a far
shore that is without more than
an image in our memories of two,
and a storied fantasy for the third
sister, conceived at home but born
after our journey had begun.
We hold her between us,
our youngest, our sweetness,
our treasured hope and worry.
The sisters, we three,
muse to our own survival, stalk
these shores in the evening
and again in the hours before dawn,
searching in those magic moments
for a way across to take our child home.