New Years Resolution: Number 6

Learn how to juggle.

Turning Point

I've been thinking lately about the direction that The D.O.M. has been headed down. Once I was on the path of holy goodness and light, with a litle bit of rage thrown in once and a while for balance. But I've strayed from this path. I need to, once again, use my fists of purity to bring much need love and justice to this wonderful planet. I need to spend some time in the forest.

Sunday Morning

This morning I've been working(hiding from my family) on cutting some more pieces for the ballista I'm building. I downloaded the plans from "Ernest Borgnines Viking Toys for Men". An online site geared toward manliness. I'm making it out of mostly recycled oak that I pulled out of a dumpster. The lunatic ward at a drug rehab center was throwing away their oak beds, so I scored two of them. One went to my stepdaughter Taylor and I cut up the other one. I made the trebuchet out of some of the wood and the rest is going toward the ballista. I think it's quite fitting to use wood from a bed that mental people screamed themselves to sleep in for building medieval weapons. Too bad Taylor has to sleep in the other bed. She swears it's haunted.

They made me who I am, and Collectively They've Killed More Men Than Smallpox

Here is a photo taken at "The Rendezvous of Madmen", held every ten years on the Isle Of Malta. My Uncles Dick, George and John along with my late father Tony, were guest speakers. The finale was when my Dad beat to death a group of locals, with the arms he tore off their Chief.

Leo saw his shadow

You know it's spring when Leo, the turtle freak, gets to come out to graze.

The Warwolf

Today I dug out and dusted off the trebuchet I built a few years back. The old girl is in need of some repairs. Her counter weight broke last year so I made her a new one today. I'm going to clean her up and give her a fresh coat of poly. I'm also thinking about adding some wheels. I'll post some video when all the buffing up is done.

I Am One

Yesterday I was walking around Western Ave Studios, checking out all the artists, when I came to a peculiar looking studio. I happened to glance in at the artist, just as he was looking up from his holiest of holy torches, he fixed his gaze upon me and pulled me into his studio without saying a word. As I glided into his world, I had a feeling of being, not only light as a feather, but All Knowing as well. He got out of his chair and gestured for me to have a seat at the "Torch of Goodness". His movements were not unlike a zen tea master from a distant past. He handed me what I needed and in seconds I was staring into a glowing glob of molten glass. The more I looked into the glass the clearer my mind became. All the stress and turmoil, all my past sins, I could see clearly in the glass. They were melting away. When the last of my madness was gone, he spoke to me in a language I'd never heard before but somehow understood. I wept freely. I was overcome with this new sense of joy and wonder, like a newborn baby drawing his first breath. The next thing I knew, I was back in Vicki's studio, on the couch, waking from a nap. It was all a dream, or so I thought..... until I opened my hand!

Spring!

Its here. By the smell outside I know my skunk friend has risen from his wintey slumber. He's been living under the chicken shed for a couple of years now. I can see a set of tracks coming out from under there from my deck. I also think he has developed a fondness for chicken eggs. I don't think they'll eat a chicken though.

I'm The D.O.M. God Damn It!

Why am I playing a game of Kerplunk with two imaginary people, trying to entertain two surly 6 1/2 year old girls(who refuse to play with me). I should be out there, on the perimeter, stoned immaculate, trying to pull my fist out of somebodies chest. I'm stuck here in this useless existence, all my talents wasted. I use to belly flop off of tall buildings onto the homeless. Now look at me, a balding, bifocaled, scatterbrained freak. Maybe building this ballista is just what I need to get out of this rut. It has to be big enough to destroy my barn, or my workshop. Some senseless act of destrucive foolishness is what I need to get myself grounded back in the now. Its been a long winter, my stupid riding lawnmower has come into view, peaking its naughty little head out of the snowbank its been hibernating in. Maybe I can shoot some kind of explosive, excrement filled projectile at it when all the snow melts. As a kind of celebration of spring, and the arrival of all my bird friends.