Womb portal welcome, little man, to 3-D classroom. Earth version.
The portal openers, they named you Rick. Get your LEARN on, make it quick.
Time is going to grow wings. Your flight will gain momentum and altitude. By the time you are able to see truths and live feelings free of words,
the teaching will move you elsewhere. It isn't for you to know. Not the reason nor the schedule. Just be. To the fullest. Rock on, put yourself out
there, reach somebody, speak your piece, your peace. Give love. Break your mind open. Do as little harm as possible. Others, yourself. Be the
channel, conduit, sponge, romantic, idealist, fool, anti-conformist conformer. Embrace irony. Accept disappointment with resolve. Place a high
value on your dignity. Give silent thanks, every day blessed by lessons, for your mind.
Later, well along the graduation arc, trust your instincts. Be kind to yourself. Give to the pursuit of joy. Time is the mathematical invention of
fear through ignorance. Don't make a god of the indifferent decay. Don't bow before the power of inevitability. Make it yours. Be the channel.
I was MySpace born three years ago. It has been a most interesting ride. Rollercoasters come to mind. Ice skating on a pond in Spring where holes open
up and swallow people at random. A vast public square filled with performers vying for each others attention. Starved for validation, connection, meaning.
Sometimes on a high, increasingly an act of attrition, but always worth the price of admission.
I went to tweak city with a few photographs, some back in the rocker days of pure belief, the bloom of youth. Others during the erosion process that could
never reach my love for music. My awe of its power. Some from a place of experience scarring wisdom, where a strange peace resides. Getting ready now
for another curve ahead. The trees are tall and many. Nightfall comes with a vengeance. A fox looks into my eyes and knows me better than most of you...
and of all the whispering voices lost amid the increasing clamor, crescendoing illusions, I hear my own.
"No regret."
Some Carcass makeovers by the incomparable Bloumeister:
- the "Kill" toque is from the comically Neanderthalian metal band, Cannibal Corpse... not ideal foreplay music, dig?
Two Carcai tweaks from my cherished 'space sister, Gandalfina:
One of me and my beloved Ella, courtesy another cherished friend, Misha:
Of course, Planet Jeff is no slouch in the makeover department. A great guy, too, but not on my buggery list:
One from Carol Hiller, who has left this book for one with more face, and three from Lola:
When my Queen, Kim of KTPP fame, called upon her friends for butt shots, I had no choice but to drop trou.
I got downright cheeky with it. The pose, the guitar, the all-in-one summation of perfect universe irony humor.
I came through the portal head first and I'm going out like an ass!
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