Blendo's blog

(Tears across a horizontal face--
Silver streaks, expired stars,
like lightning in the sky).
There’s a floe we share adrift somewhere
Dear One and I, we fly
Once an age, then say goodbye.
Hearts attracted by a star,
We speak in tongues, I speak in tones--
We have no need for telephones.
Sending out signals; somewhere in time we laugh,
Making love with bare legs in the dim and lamp light.
Both Sides Now, we share the glow,
Go with the floe.
¶

Beneath her plain clothes, beneath her Navajo blanket
Flows auspicious blood of Ancients
Synchronicity & signs, Romance & remembrance.

The Spirits guard her door, the animals speak below her window.
The trees above, the Earth below;
She walks in stillness like the Clouds.

Abashed expression on the wall,
A clouded face of doubt, a primitive heart of joy.
She waits to do battle.
Give me back my book, my silver band,
my Solitude.

Trust not the White Man nor the camera.
Count hearts; collect poems.
Let the people in the street pass by without seeing
The goddess who moves among them,
like the Clouds. ¶

(Topless Love)
Love is an avocado,
Fat, Ripe, Sweet;
We cut it apart and
Scoop out half.
(We leave half to grow
Soft and black).
True Love is a tree
Full of fat avocados in season
Never expecting to empty.
(We can make each other empty).
My heart in the Winter
Is a Cadillac in the rain
Waiting for a rider.

(Bottomless Love)
Fire flames a path out of your words
Through my window,
Through my eyes, my weeks, my music;
You shoot me in the imagination.
Where is my only friend
Now, when I’m burning alive?

My feelings Hully Gully
Like lumps of lead thru my head.
My hair streams with lines I’d love to deliver
Like Coltrane on speed.
My face a ballet of zombietude.
Behind these eyes
Flash the turn signals
Of a wrecked DeSoto;
I sizzle like a logarithm
In heat!

My art is not a concise, linear experience. It involves various levels of perception and consciousness, and creates a more-or-less defined space for viewer to contemplate, explore and map (as in the tableaus of Breughel or Bosch). It can be seen as a suggestion, a question, or a group of questions, to be answered or ignored. A collage of photo images is a kind of alchemy; There is a chemical reaction which occurs turning everything into something else, greater than the sum of parts, something beyond. Ideally, each picture has varying degrees of depth, which extends in all directions, within and without, and can be visual, psychological, and emotional. They all contain a thought and a feeling (or a complex of thoughts and feelings). Sometimes the thought can't be put precisely into words ... but the feeling is always there. Art without feeling is empty; "Emotionally, Art is always true." My pictures are sometimes embellished by words or lines of text, not always apparently or directly relevant. Sometimes they seem to be only design elements, sometimes they seem to be labels or to comment on the image, sometimes in a disjointed way. Language is a fun game; but truth is ultimately betrayed and sold short by it. Life isn’t really in words -- they’re a string of misconceptions, prejudices, presumptions, posturing & posing. Reality or life changes as we speak. Or before we can speak. Leaving words as ironic empty signposts like those in a ghost town, directions to something that may have once existed. I'm interested in sketching the coordinates of a person moving about in inner reality and cultural reality, which gives everything a name and a value (which we can accept or not). The coordinates are not beautiful; we bring the beauty. Or we find the beauty. Life is always beautiful. Even though it will kill us.

What Is Science? •Perhaps you think it is a glowing mineral substance discovered by Madam Curie in 1909. But isn't that Radium or something? •Perhaps, as described by Madam Curie a few years later, "Science is What Things Will Be Like In The Future." The good Madam went on to suggest "...Flying horse-carriages, Wireless in the bathroom, and Mental Telemetry!" Well, we may laugh today at her incorrectness, for we can see into the present with 20/20 vision, and know that mankind still hasn't come close to achieving Mental Telemetry. But was Madam Curie really as clueless as she seems today? Let's take the core of her description of Science as a beta: "Science is What Stuff Is Like." •This gives us a much more flexible and universally applicable description which may better stand the test of time, for isn't Science, indeed, "What Stuff Is Like?" So our examination of the work and/or intelligence of Madam Curie may lead us perhaps to question ourselves thusly: "If Science is What Stuff Is Like, then what is Science (and/or Intelligence) like?" •It is the Old Professor's theory that Intelligence is like the Gluteus Maximus, in that everybody has one (or more)! This is because there are many types of intelligence in addition to the intellectual, rational type we commonly think of and try to measure by so-called "I.Q." tests. •As we see from Madam Curie's embarrasingly inaccurate guesswork about the Future, one may have a high degree of intelligence in a specific subject or aspect of a subject, and yet be laughably inept in other areas of Life and Human Activity. •Witness the well-known behavior of a man like Albert Einstein, widely percieved as the Smartest Guy Ever, who was known to walk into doors and leave the house without combing his hair. And can you imagine Einstein trying to play Michael Jordan one-on-one in basketball? There's not much doubt Mike could take him easily, but then again, could Mike have come up with the Unified Field Theory while practicing his Reverse Slam? I think not! •And look at Leonardo DaVinci. He didn't even have any hair, at least on top. So we see that there are many types of intelligence, and some fool who couldn't paint the Mona Lisa or invent the helicopter in a million years could have an extremely high degree of Hair Intelligence, and chicks will dig him. And what better use could there be for Science?

-- Born to a poor itinerant Navy family shortly after WWII, George Warren Hughey played as a child in a secret Nuclear Waste Dump, which stimulated his overactive brain to develop many more than the normal number of neurons & neural connections, enhancing not only the obvious aspects of what we commonly call 'smarts', but in fact, all of the four areas of Human Intelligence which determine our natures-- the Intellectual, the Physical, the Emotional, and the Spiritual. This development naturally led him to become an amazingly unique and disturbingly out-of-step child and a source of constant chagrin to his parents, family, and friends. -- In the Classic tradition, the ideal he pursues is Truth, as opposed to money, fame, or wordly accomplishments. This, of course, is highly irritating to everyone, along with George's unfortunate habit of constantly borrowing money from those he loves, or needing a ride somewhere. Nevertheless, he stubbornly asserts that "Truth = Beauty, and Beauty = Truth, and this is all I know, or need to know!" (What a Pill!) -- Among the other exasperating maxims followed by this ne'er-do-well are such as: "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff", "Money Is the Root of All Evil", "Rules Are Made To Be Broken", and "Danger Is My Business". -- It goes without saying, therefore, that such a misguided societal misfit is extremely lucky to have been associated with a Media Midas like the great JACK 9000, who is adept at turning the most casual passing idea into a culture-bending Masterpiece. -- This enables GW to get by on his single apparent skill, the uncanny drawing ability he gained when his irradiated right hand was removed as a child, and he was provided with an experimental bionic appendage programmed to draw with great precision in the style of MAD magazine, which was his favotite source of inspiration at the time (1954). -- GW's stated ambition is to remain as free of gainful employment as he can manage, given his wife and eleven children, in accordance with his belief that, as spoken by the great Bambino, "No man who works for another man is ever overpaid!"