Aquarelle (Watercolours) has been updated in the Left Bank section, these modern works are now online.

I've made substantial updates to the "UnCanvassed" section, including the addition of 13 previously unreleased works.

Some concatenation of environments that have such harmonious interplay that one's senses are whelmed by the balance of it all.

Here we live in the arrogance of our time. We are neither victims, nor drivers of our Zeitgeist

How the imperative of communion impels me along pathways abhorrent to my otherwise individual nature--the shocks to my egotism and the abuses of my narcissism do me damage that makes me stronger.

Perhaps happiness is not so incompatible with the insecurities that cause my envy, my materialism, my vanity--seeing that I am so completely subsumed in each and simultaneously able to enjoy the pleasures of sharing. So what then am I sharing? Do I find a community in the lesser 'sins' or have I transcended, in small and piecemeal part, each selfish motivator.

In my dream, it was some 10,000 years from now, and I was peering out of the window of a craft making its orbital descent into Titan--a colonized planet and moderately terraformed, but still greenish yellow and cold, its cities barely glimmering in the permanent dusk of midday sunshine.

Perhaps because I do nothing, or what I do has no tangible value, or even that I may an impediment to some other being's 'doing.'

Perhaps it is what I see, or notice:

Though your plains are so great and so plain, devoid of ought but snow, promises of some sprouting staple remain in an unforeseen future, even sustaining those scintillating cities we require to not have our civitas be as empty as our persona--even a purpose derived from sustaining communitas by virtue of individual action.

Perhaps it is a feeling, maybe it is even shared (provided I am not a psychopath)...Something identifiable in myself even though I observe it manifested in some other being.

Back to empty, am I empty and fulfilling myself through sought-after stimuli, or am I osmotically empathizing with emptiness I perceive in the world around me? Or am I still too narcissistic to philosophize on the concept without burdening the truth with need?

Standing bashful So unerotic, yet entirely sexy

Whose face I recall in all detail
But whose name recedes into sounds

A grevious pull into an unfelt desire
Some compulsion created a serious soul

You might respond differently if you know both how little and how much I care.

I might respond differently to you, if only by being surprised, that you choose such a springboard to launch a dislocated sense of self. What placid psyche seems to inflame you to a hysteria, what calm persona will drive you to action where none is indicated, if only to retain a sense of purpose where there is a dubious one anyway...

Those garments you use, they cover you well. Each flashier detail a better speaker for the wearer, each divergent tailoring a better indicator of how you wish to be seen. But then, when crumpled finally at the foot of any sexual encounter, your successful garments have done what? Shown the parallel between pet and wild animal?

In some perverse way there's a sense of asceticism in indulging in privations, even when a choice? If you need to know, look at any road that runs straight, rather than curving around any tree now long since dead.

I walked into a bookstore, and saw Danielle Steele's books in the "classics" section.

Taking things for granted: That a drivers knows where he is going; that formality in one place carries over to its proximal neighbors; that routine for one is routine for all. And finally, that one's speech indicates one's thoughts.

Something new in an old vernacular: It doesn't take talent to be attractive, but I still have no idea what it takes to stay that way.

Is the beginning where I'd like to end? Or can I affect it, and by doing so, do I only point-up the obvious?

Can I artfully enhance the tangential to keep the obvious from being the end, or the beginning?

And suddenly the world moves again, as if it was stopped.