tangents (ssa)

feeling like an old man
trying to teach kids about manners
kids who wanna fuck first
introduce themselves after
..finding it too hard to break their pattern
now all I hear is laughter
behind my back
stabbed by more students with no masters

..bastards!


nowadays
some may say
shit has changed
for the worse
attitudes are like
"yeaaaaa whatever anyways...
its the 21st century
so who gives a shit about tradition
its the age of ignorance
nobody wanna listen
missing points like airballs
hell they dont care at all
we're up on stage educating
while their drunk screaming "take it off!!!"
their brains are soft
caught up in the bs
wishing there was a way to hit reset

they say we dont like your music
because your music makes us think
ysee we'd rather act foul
buckwild off some drinks
and get stupid in the place
-shitfaced untill we vomit
then pass out in a crowd
full of candy addicts & alcholics

shit go ask common..
hell tell you
how he went from making 'sense'
to making dollars
bridging the GAP
between bronze coins
and heavy cash
authentic to silly fads
really dope to really bad
changing the face of pretty
like fake titties to mini racks
some may ask
what must one do to last
in this trash heap business
of music crap
music that makes me angrier than vinnie paz
tis why infact
I resist
from pushing too far
never will strange one submit
his skills to someone elses cue cards

K R U S H E D

In the middle of working on a painting of one of my favorites..I kinda like looking at it half done...maybe eye will leave it??? mmmmmmmmmmm.........

and on a related note..
My friend Yobikenobi put a mix together. Check it out..

Lost in a purple desert
http://www.mediafire.com/?rjjjjmy2bgm

dear eyeknot knowmust

Enter my home, take a round about, take a look at the walls and you will find pieces of paper taped onto them, all of which say "Mom is Hipocrite", and underneath those words "Mom is Hipokrita". You will also notice the phrase written along the sides of some of the garbages??

I myself was confused about the whole thing really. The handwriting looked familiar. As guessed correctly, it belonged to my mother. I asked her what this was all about, and she replied vaguely, that someone had called her a hipocrite, but refused to say who. I made a guess, and I was correct. She assumed a meaning for the word, but didn't quite understand it's proper meaning, all she knew was that it wasn't a word of praise, nor a word that expressed love, as it certainly was not received well. I explained to her the definition and warmed her with my views on the word hypocrite. I said at some point, we all are victims of our own procrastination, and we certainly all in this lifetime experienced wrongdoing, and continue for some of us, we continue to do what is deemed as wrong despite being well aware of the liklihood of arriving at the same shameful results that we swore never to revist again. I asked myself could this be true about my mother? It is possible, but in what context? I feel as though the act does not necessarily define that person, and so though she may have or may do hipocritical things, it is not a word that I would choose to describe her as a person. I also asked myself, could this be that my father is looking for someone to blame, could it be that because he seemingly refuses to reach deep into himself, that he is projecting his anguish and fears and spewing them out unto his surroundings, blaming others for his suffering. Who knows? Communication is key, yet we are all still walking passed each other in a tight conjested space wondering why the doors that may lead us to a larger room to breathe, are still locked.

Name calling seems to be a common act of expressing ones feelings this month..

Pumpernickel:

a coarse, dark, slightly sour bread made of unbolted rye.

Origin:
1750–60; < G Pumpernickel orig., an opprobrious name for anyone considered disagreeable, equiv. to pumper(n) to break wind + Nickel hypocoristic from of Nikolaus Nicholas (cf. nickel ); presumably applied to the bread from its effect on the digestive system

n. A dark, sourish bread made from whole, coarsely ground rye.

[German, probably from dialectal, term of abuse : obsolete Pumper, breaking wind (from dialectal pumpern, to break wind, from Middle High German, to knock, frequentative of pumpen, of imitative origin) + German Nickel, goblin; see nickel.]

"dark rye bread," 1756, from Ger. (Westphalian dialect) Pumpernickel (1663), originally an abusive nickname for a stupid person, from pumpern "to break wind" + Nickel "goblin, lout, rascal," from proper name Niklaus. An earlier Ger. name for it was krankbrot, lit. "sick-bread."

I asked myself, What does it mean? Like my mother, I didn't know the given definition, but intuition gave me a slight hint that it wasn't intended to be a compliment. The definition that sticks with me the most is: "originally an abusive nickname for a stupid person".

While the humour may have entered on one end, confusion had entered on another. I asked myself what did I deserve to be called this? moreover, what did I not do?

Absence; it seems the more it carries on, the more the liklihood of assumptions to come in between, and that is not healthy. Perhaps this is why the bread has turned black for you?

If you recall our heart to heart talk that one night inside the bus stop, when you told me what you told your sister..it partly true, and partly unsure..that I was longing for a partner.. the partly unsure bit come from many places. it comes from my refusal to take away any other person's freedom. freedom to choose. freedom to travel. freedom to love whomever or whatever..the unsure bit also comes from my own freedom, it is with that, that I had said..."I understand you"

and as explained before..the partly true, comes from my dream. i like to think that it also comes from years and years of conditioning, of not only my parents era of traditional romance, but years and years before their time when honour and respect for a partner still existed. As dave chappelle said, chilvary is dead..but I ask who made dave chappelle god? and who is to say that that statement is true on all accounts, who is to say that is relevant and true for everyone.

In between one night stand fuckers, and bored couples who belong to crumbling marriages where divorce is considered a taboo, I find myself scratcing my head, (sometimes both) sorry bad joke..wondering what it is I am really looking for? What is definite here?

I met an interesting man who said that when we define something, it becomes the end of questioning. now what does that mean if we relate it to titles such as boyfriend, girlfiend. husband wife, married..blah blah..Maybe in some ways its saying there is no more need for questioning, no more need for looking, because we've found our definition of love?

But the reality that I like to believe in, sees that we are redefining ourselves everyday, as we grow, we change, and we take on these new findings that shape us a little bit differently than yesterdays mold. Maybe I am getting a little too deep into it, but that has always been me. I haven't lived enough to know what true love means, and maybe I will never..maybe it will always be a question for me. I can only define with what was and is exposed to me. Another thing that this man had said to me..is that because we will always question, and it is so difficult to find an ends to the means of mysterious things (like love) it is hard to determine what is logical...for all I know he could be incorrect..but I like to agree that intuition is a great thing, and I feel that listening and paying attention to inuition will communicate with our logic and thus...maybe not give us a clear definition of things, but come pretty damn close to making sense

she will always be wonderful, or always full of wonder..which means I can never have her..or own her? and that is perfectly fine, because I do not wish to carry any weight other than my own. Who knows..maybe one day...eye WILL stop questioning..but that will not mean that it will be the end of paying attention.

whatever the fuck that means!!

Happy Feet

Super Strange

Today a kid came into HMV today and asked me if we have any Dr. Strange. "Sowwie Kid, we don't have any in stock". I was the only one laughing. How sad. Haaaaaaaaah hah.

Basq in all its glory

First time me artwork be published ya see. I am quite ecstatic about it!

Positive Lifestyles

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zToHQ8oQvgA

So the court dropped the charges. Luck Strikes Again! My lawyer is no Jim the Hammer Shapiro, but he brought the good luck that I needed.

Nothing more than feelings

So Good

Young Kasparov

Vertical Adventure

This would be the first mural gig I have had without the 30 percent cut damn right sun damn right. It was truly a blessing to be back at the spot where I use to build myself up in one critical time of my life. $1500 for about 16 hours in total.. not bad, not bad at all but there is still much to improve on. Oh mighty universe please Give me another wall!!!



The quote is from one of the first rock climbing videos I have ever seen in my life (nearly five years ago). What I enjoyed most about it was putting the video on mute and listening to Wu-Tang's 36 chambers to switch up the dynamic of it. I found it fascinating...

Big Colorful Diaries from the Strange One

Don't Blame Me, Blame the Art

So I got a gig to paint half naked women at Vivid nightclub for 200 dollars one night for 4 hours. Does that make me a bad man? Of course not. It would be an awful lie if eye were to say that I didn't enjoy my time. I would certainly be down for another round.

I received word from the Gallery that my Basquait piece will be on the cover of the next Uniter issue. Finally, after one year of trying to get my shit together, it's going to happen. But it doesn't stop here.. Oh no folks, eye shall proceed

Wrong or Write?

Wrong or Write?

It was the fear of losing stability that kept that inborn beast within me, tamed, and timidly isolated in mother’s basement, over-analyzing the world, going mad, getting so afraid to take leaps and bounds into new territory. I was beginning to settle down, keeping a budget, guarding my fun with funds, playing the safe side, gracefully growing into the 25 year old man that I was ‘supposed’ to be; a mature, well-organized, self-sufficient contributor to society, who would diligently continue to uphold his responsibilities as a ‘real adult’.

Fortunately, months and months of untiring curiosity had eventually overthrown my fears, when finally, I decided that putting security on the back burner, and buying a plane ticket to Montreal would be well worth the experience. So off I went, feeding my inquiring mind what it was longing for, a breath of ‘French air’. I was riding the waves, instinctively seeing where life would take me next.

Among the many beautiful places that I had stumbled upon during my trip, there was a small bookstore called “Coup de Coeur”. It was there where I came across “The biography of Hunter S. Thompson”, a man who I had heard so much about, yet knew very little of, thus, engulfing myself once again in my curiosity. Thirteen days of roaming around the city as a free soul, while getting acquainted with the Wild Man of American Journalism, downright did it for me. The combination of my gullible mind, along with Hunter’s crazy life stories, was all that was needed to restore the youthful vigour back into my inner beast.

I returned home to Winnipeg feeling invincible again, double daring myself to do the unthinkable; taking a stolen wheelchair for a spin, smoking cigarettes, drinking profusely, and getting back into the reckless habits that I once had when I was a teen. I was once again, a rebel on the edge, and in all honesty, it felt amazing! I understood the psychology behind it, or at least had a grasp on the idea of why I was so drawn to the edge of my existence, and why I felt so compelled to do such outrageous things, yet despite knowing all of this, I still continued to feed my ignorance.

September 7, 2009 – Breakfast at the Nook (Labour Day Drama)

The small talk between Gumshoe and I was interrupted by a freshly served Spanish omelet served right under my nose. While digging into my flavorful meal, I continued reading on about Mr. Hunter S. Thompson, chuckling away at his barbaric and crazy life stories, slowly growing spellbound, to the point that I could imagine myself, as him. I would read, drink my coffee, and lean back against my chair, as I would imagine him doing it in the same fashion.

It was like a classic tale of Irony in the making, as half way through my book; four police officers walked into the Nook and sat down directly at the table across from me. Every once in a while, in between chomping on some eggs, and entertaining myself with Hunter’s stories of encounters with the police, I would observe the officers in front of me, taking mental notes of their mannerisms, while on and off, redirecting myself back to Hunter’s biography. There they all were, talking amongst themselves, waiting for their grub, enjoying their Labour Day morning, while I, alone in my zone, sat quietly, picking bones from my plate.

When my meal was all done and paid for, I walked out the restaurant with a bittersweet taste in my mouth, and a few planned activities for the afternoon in mind, but as I proceeded to the back parking lot, my afternoon agenda soon became tainted with an abrupt, and beastly idea. In my wicked imagination, I began to make the connection between the colorful painting materials sitting in the back trunk of my car, and the plain white police cruiser that had been parked directly right beside it. In that blood-rushing moment of time, all I could picture in my head were the facial expressions that the officers would make, when they would come back to their beloved car only to realize that it had been decorated in pretty pink colors. Unfortunately for me, my idea of hilarity had been poorly supported by carelessness, which later resulted in the officers having the last laugh, as they tracked me down 2 hours after my daring move.

No matter how you flip the coin, in this society, painting the words “OINK OINK!” in pretty pink along both sides of a Police cruiser is deemed as “Wrong!”

It was the second time I felt that cold steel wrapped around my wrists. They don’t give you much leg room in that car of theirs. It was the most awkward elevator ride that I had experienced in my life. Not even the memories of the mysterious homeless man with the brown stains, and bad odour in his pants could rival this story. There they all were, crowded around me, like a big group of angry fathers, raising their voices, pulling the intimidation card on me. “You must think it’s pretty funny writing ‘Oink Oink” on the car don’t you!? Are you calling us pigs?” Why did you do it!!?? I responded with the word “Ignorance”, which contrarily lessened the amount of intimidation casted upon me.

Room number four, nothing to look at but white walls, a sprinkler, and yourself from the neck down. You notice the simple things, like the little specs on your skin, or how long your toe nails are. I sang and recited poetry, and free styled about how stupid it was to spray paint a cop car, hoping that maybe if they could hear me, they would bless me with the same luck as my first arrest, when I was granted a discharge for reciting a poem for the judge, and a court room full of convicts. Maybe luck would indeed strike twice? Perhaps they too, would wonder what the hell on earth possessed such a brilliant kid to do such a thing.

After one phone call, and about three hours of sitting around, getting threatened to be taken to remand, they finally moved me into the interrogation room, where they showed me photos of my latest ‘art piece’. “Did you do this?” they asked. I was a mute, mentally wrestling with one of two options; the advice from legal aid, which was not to say a word until a visit from a real judge, and; the curiosity behind whether or not I would be granted a quick release if I were to plead guilty.

After about twenty minutes of doing the mime routine, I finally gave in, admitting to my wrongs, taking responsibility for my actions. It was quite obvious who the vandal was; red Honda Civic with matching license plate numbers, a tool shed painted from top to bottom, a pink can in the passenger seat. In contrast, I suppose one could say that I was caught ‘pink handed’.

One of the officers, who studied my demeanor throughout my moment of silence, spoke on my behalf, voicing his speculations, assuming that it was just a lapse in judgment on my part. When asked, “What compelled you to do such a foolish thing? I wanted to tell them that it was Hunter’s fault for being so damn inspiring! But I had the hint that they wouldn’t really take that as a rational answer. Instead, I told them that it was simply a wrong move on my part, and that in the moment of my wrongdoing, I had lost all logic. Before calling it a wrap, they left me with an opportunity to share whatever was on my mind, clearly stating: “now is your chance to say whatever you need to say”. Their offer had only sparked one thought, and that was to show them who I was, by sharing what I do, and so I spoke...

I use to say “Forget the money!”, with a passion
Back when there was nothing but drinking, smoking, and rapping
Laughing life away like there was no price to pay
for staying out late writing my name up on the trains
Never played the game, instead, I went against it
Raised fist and all, splashing war paint on walls
Breaking laws with a smile, momma’s lost child
Who use to run wild with a low profile
Playing at my own risk, paying no mind to the mileage,
Living like I was next on Gods’ soon-to-die list
But oh how it changes, how life rearranges
How clear and present dangers suddenly seem safer
Forced into a corner, taking orders, chasing paper,
Thinking to myself how much I really hate to
Go to school, getting so confused about what to do
Its like you go to class, kiss a$$, or say forget the rules

But son, it’s easier said than done
when we live within a system that runs on funds
It is the reason why those stuck up kids deal drugs
And the reason why sometimes we have got to leave the ones we love
Work hard, get rewarded, that’s just the way that some jobs are kid
You can’t be an artist if you don’t know how to market
Pardon me, for telling you all these bits,
But you can’t discard the facts, because that’s just the way it is

Do not enter, do not cross, do not disturb
If you know the truth and got the proof, do not say a word
Go to work, get paid, lace your shoes, run the race,
Put a mask on your face, just to make the next day
You hate this place, but you can’t escape it,
Infinite like figure 8’s you were born into the matrix
With not enough guts to do anything about it
So it’s best you just shut your mouth and bow down kid
I will not allow this unjust matter to continue
I will strip you of your ability to let loose
I’ve got strict rules, and you have got to follow it
I don’t care if you’re sick, you still got to work tomorrows shift
The hunt for the dividends will never end
You will forever spend money on food and medicine
Regardless of culture, religion or gender,
I’ve got your whole world affected by afluenza
You’re the renter, well I’m the owner,
The poker faced money motor joker/ game controller
Holding your diploma
So show up, but don’t forget who feeds you,
the root of all evil that makes us unequal
You’re crawling on all fours of this monopoly board
With your shopping sprees helping my economy soar
Take the house, take the cigarettes, take the corvette,
Take the 4 year art course even if you can’t afford it
It goes eat, sleep, work, stress,
go to school, go in debt pay it off until you’re dead”
Get up, get busy, get going, go hustle,
do anything you can do to get through the struggle.
Cash rules everything around me
C.R.E.A.M
Get the money

The officer leaned forward, up from his seat, took a closer look at me, and asked: “was that improvised?” I replied, “No officer, it was written about a year ago when I felt a lot more grounded with my life”. He said “I don’t know what the hell you call what you just did right now, but take my advice son, and stick to doing that, not spray painting cop cars. You have a better chance of doing something good with your life if you stick to that”. Suddenly, I could feel a sense of respect coming over me. The tone of their voice, and their actions toward me had changed.

After all the paper work, the photo taking, and fingerprint documenting, it was finally time to leave. While being escorted out, he uttered his last words to me, saying: “You’re really interesting you know that. I wish we could have met somewhere else” But in my mind, I questioned the likelihood of us meeting without the paint sprayed in between our worlds, and thought that it would never have happened otherwise.

Apart from being scheduled for a court date, and dreadfully worrying about how I would break the news to my poor mother about what had just happened, I was somewhat grateful for the experience, as it brought my feet back to the ground, and redirected my focus to more important matters in my life. It was with this indebtedness, that I shook the officers’ hand, thanked him, and took his advice into account. I went home, I picked up my pen, and I did what I do best…

Write!

Unhealthy Shmuck

Note to Self. Excercise. Get back into shape.

Deadication 808 word count

“Deadication”

This poem is ‘deadicated’ to YOU
To the one who told me that
it was game over
before I even had a chance
To insert my very last quarter
Into the slot and press start
To the ones who placed
All their bets against me
And relied on nothing but luck
To prevent me From pulling out a wild card
To the big muscle bound bullies,
The non believers
The judges,
The ‘Siskel & Eberts’
(Those prejudice bastards!)
And the never ending questions
That I always tried to answer
To the best of my ability,
But was never quite good enough
Because it wasn’t quite exactly
What you wanted to hear
This poem right here
Is ‘deadicated’ to every stuck up girl
in my grade 10 school year
who called me ugly,
and made me feel like
I would never have a beautiful lady
By my side whom I truly could say
“I love to you too”
This is ‘Deadicated’ to every direction
That told me to go left
When I chose to go right instead
Because I wanted to prove THEM wrong
And…to every time limit that spoke,
As if it were saying that
“That half-Japanese,
Half-Chinese looking Filipino kid
Speaking to me right now is
taking way too long to get his point across!”
This one is deadicated to my Father,
Whom at first, Failed to see the
true beauty of hip hop culture
Labeling it as nothing but a gateway
To drugs, sex, and gang related violence
And…to my high school math teacher,
who pushed me to do my assignments,
only because the answer key
In the back of his textbook
Showed me that success,
Was merely just a product of the focus,
multiplied by the x number of times
That one follows the rules,
And Failure, was simply just a sum
Of the fight plus the freedom
To do whatever you wanted to do
“You want to be a poet!?
You want to be an artist!!??
No, no, no…
You mean that you want to be a broke ass bum
Begging for change on stage
Because that will not support you through life
And while most of my colleagues
Took what he said for granted
I took it to the heart
Started to think of all the possibilities
Of getting off to a fresh start
I thought of everything you saw as unrealistic
And then I thought about packing my bags
And leaving when you said,
Uh uh, no way, it is not going to happen
No return of the dragon,
No second try,
Just one long hard cry,
Followed by one sad goodbye,

Goodbye!!!

…But…but…but
As time flied by,
and I grew wise
I began to realize
How easy it would be
To just; throw in the towel
Raise the white flag,
And utter the simple words
“I Quit”
..and yes, for a while there
I must admit that you did have my King in check
Stole my queen right before my eyes
And broke my heart
Quicker than I could ever break a sweat
But just like any bet
Placed against a one to five odd,
Just like any kid whose had his ass whooped
So bad to the point that
He has decided that he’s going to do more
Than just dodge that much the next time around
Just like any dead tree,
That should not be considered dead at all
For as long as there is still
blood pumping from the pen,
those who believe those who suck
will eventually suck on those who suck,
because you better believe
that those who suck
will ‘suck-ceed!’…in the end
what does not kill me will only make me stronger
but you see strength is not measured
by the amount of muscle mass in the body
Strength is measured by that heart-filled, mindful will
that carries you through that long impossible journey
Therefore, before a classroom full of clenched fists
gets dismissed from class
I will race you to the flagpole
At the sound of the 3:30 school bell,
And I will beat you to the punch
Yes I will beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat,
beat myself to death nine times
And resurrect ten times afterwards,
Before you could lay one hand on me
For every time I fall, I will rise
With the hopes of you forgetting my name
So that I could have the joy of re-introducing you
…My name is poetry,
Embodied by both Gods and Goddesses
Who will live my life for as long as you will listen
And will continue to believe
that for as long as there is a will
There WILL be a way,
To weight out the probability with the possibility
Of having one
Brand new,
Beautiful day
So please…
Get out Of my way

Life Path Soul Urge N S N

With a number 6 Soul Urge, you would like to be appreciated for your ability to handle responsibility. Your home and family are likely to be a strong focus for you, perhaps the strongest focus of your life. Friendship, love, and affection are high on your list of priorities for a happy life. You have a lot of diplomatic tendencies in your makeup, as you a able to rectify and balance situations with an innate skill. You like working with people rather than by yourself. It is extremely important for you to have harmony in your environment at all times.

Positive Traits : The positive side of the 6 Soul Urge produces a huge capacity for responsibility; you are always there and ready to assume more than your share of the load. If you possess positive 6 Soul Urges and express them, you are known for your generosity, understanding and deep sympathetic attitude. Strong 6 energy is very giving of love, affection, and emotional support. You may have the inclination to teach or serve your community in other idealistic ways. You have natural abilities to help people. You are also likely to have artistic and creative leanings.

Negative Traits : If you have an over-supply of 6 energy in your makeup, you may express some of the negative traits common to this number. With such a strong sympathetic attitude, it is easy to become too emotional. Sometimes the desires to render help can be over done, and it can become interfering and an attitude that is too protective, rather than helpful. The person with too much 6 energy often finds that people tend to take advantage of this very giving spirit. You may tend to repress your own needs so that you can cater to the demands from others. At times, there may be a tendency in this, for becoming over-loaded with such demands, and as a result become resentful.


A Life Path 5 person is usually very versatile, adventurous, and progressive. With a 5 life path, you are one of those people who is always striving to find answers to the many questions that life poses. You want to be totally unrestrained, as this is the sign of freedom and independence. You abhor routine and boring work, and you are not very good at staying with everyday tasks that must be finished on time. You are, however, a good communicator, and you know how to motivate people around you, perhaps inclining you to be a teacher of some sort. A love of adventure may dominate your life. This may take the form of mental or physical manifestation, but in either case, you thrill to the chance for exploration and blazing new trails. You are apt to be multi-talented, but just as likely to suffer from some lack of direction, and there is often some confusion surrounding your ambition.

Positive Traits : The number 5 personality is rather happy-go-lucky; living for today, and not worrying too much about tomorrow. It is important for you to mix with people of a like mind, and try to avoid those that are too serious and demanding. It is also important for you to find a job that provides thought-provoking tasks rather than routine and redundant responsibilities. You do best dealing with people, but the important thing is that you have the freedom to express yourself at all times. You have an innate ability to think through complex matters and analyze them quickly, but then be off to something new.

Negative Traits : In the most negative application or use of the 5 energies, you could become very irresponsible in tasks and decisions concerning your home and business life. The total pursuit of sensation and adventure can result in your becoming self-indulgent and totally unaware of the feelings of those around you. In the worse case situations negative 5's are very undependable and self-serving.


The number 11 Life Path has the connotation of illumination describing its general focus. This is the number associated with spiritual awareness. As one of the two master numbers, the 11 yields understanding and knowledge beyond the grasp of others. The attitude toward life of those possessing this Life Path is somewhat extreme; extremely intuitive, avant-garde, idealistic, visionary, and cultured. These extremes make you an interesting, if unusual person, with much to offer society.

Positive Traits : The Life Path 11 person is deep-thinking, and you are no doubt interested in understanding many of life's mysteries and more intriguing facets. Your inventive mind and broad-minded views will permit you to succeed in life in any number of ventures. You can best serve society, however, in those endeavors utilizing your skills of counseling and guidance. Much of your idealism is people oriented and quite humanitarian in nature. You expect a great deal of yourself and of those to whom you are close.

Negative Traits : This is a Life Path that seems to feature broad mood swings between the elation and depression. You are likely to have trouble making decisions and getting your life in gear, so to speak. There is a tendency for the 11 to harbor feelings of uneasiness, and dissatisfaction with accomplishments and personal progress in life. Your grandiose schemes usually make sense, but you can get off the track and they can be very impractical. You have a very distinct side that lacks common sense, and you are quite often unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality. In this regard, you are perhaps more of a dreamer than a doer. When you do get on target, your ideas seem to have been inspired on high. Perhaps you are not a leader, but you are a visionary and a very talented idea person.

Pogs On my Mind

"my mother observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my disposition and habits, endevaored by arguments deduced from the feelings of her serene conscience and guiltless life, to inspire me with fortitude and awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud which brooded over me"