Thursday, February 28, 2013

Happy 1st Birthday for Psychopathy: Another Life. My Brainchild.

                            Happy Birthday: Psychopathy: Another Life.
                                       By Mark William Darus.


Where do I begin? How does one describe in words a sense of gratitude for being able to continue something they have always wanted to do and never thought they possessed the ability to do? Whom do I thank for pushing me forward, never letting me stop no matter what obstacles rose before me?

Sure, I could thank the gods of psychopathic psychology: Dr’s Hervey Cleckley and Robert Hare (in all truth, I couldn‘t have started this without reading their works after the Chardon School shooting a year ago.) I could thank my psychiatrist, my closest friends, family and companions though very few of them understood my drive for continually writing about such a dark subject of the human condition and how some seemed concerned about the alleys I‘d venture down for it‘s sake. I could thank my god/higher power though they already know their place in my existence here. I could thank my dogs and cat (the looks they’d give me as I would sometimes cackle, jump up and down and dance around as I wrote each entry.

Music played a large part for me as I wrote these last twelve months. The songs I played while writing varied between each subject I worked on. I guess I could thank the following bands: The Birthday Massacre, Michael Card, Peter Gabriel, Frank Sinatra, Lady Antebellum, Garbage, Amy Grant, Celtic Women, Maire Brennan, Clannad, Enya, Tantric, Cocteau Twins, Elizabeth Frazier, The Icelandic National Anthem, Ukrainian National Anthen, Russian National Anthem, Jimi Hendrix’ American National Anthem, Prince, Wendy and Lisa, and a host of others.

Giving credit where credit is due, there were two songs that I would play at the beginning as I wrote each entry. These two songs put me in the right mode, if you will, to capture my thoughts, flesh them out and create. Todd Rundgren’s Utopia Mr. Triscuits which came from his Another Life live album. It was from that album title the Another Life part of the blog was born from. Yes, I said album as in LP. I have to thank my sister Holly for this: She got me hooked on Todd about the same time I started reading psychology books, also thanks to her great influence. My age: 12.

12?!?! Damn, that was 38 years ago. One year shy of meeting my greatest, longest lasting friend and brother of the purest sense, that not being of shared DNA but of choice, Dave R. This man is truly incredible, indeed. Thick skinned to the hilt. I’ve lost many a friend over the decades by me saying something or acting horrifically inappropriate and them creating distance in its wake. This man, and later his wife and children, never hesitate to take me into their lives with arms wide open. To Dave’s wife Cindy: I’d say I’m sorry for you trusting me with your Video Camera about 10+ years ago to film a childs birthday party. I inverted many minutes of footage, would occasionally spin the cam-corder to spiral the view and generally botch the whole damn thing because I thought it’d be funny, and in that respect, memorable? <yeah, how’s that for a cop-out? J That woman has the patience of Job, I swear she does! If there is such a thing as a souls True North <Northern Star reference for absolute guidance>, it is the R family I can thank for this. During my darkest times, worst living nightmares, doubts, fears and general self destructive behaviors, they never fail to grant me safe harbor. For ironies sake, I don’t think Dave has ever read a word of this Blog, if he has, he never let me know and I‘m okay with that. I know his wife has. In all honesty, I don’t think I have ever experienced more loyalty in this life than what I have known from this family. Undying, unwavering, pure loyalty. As solid as granite and never to be taken for granted by me.

Getting back to the two songs. The second song being Iron Maidens Can I Play With Madness. I had always liked the raw power behind this song and how it always picked me up when I had doubts. Truth be told, this is about the only song I liked by them. I’ve always had the type of mind that liked the fantastic, grossly ironic, and insane. For as long as I can remember, sneaking into hospitals to see my sick father in ICU’s (intensive care units) when they had age restrictions, having a friend at about 14 get chopped in half by a shotgun blast, to finding dead people while working as a delivery person for a drugstore in some of the seediest areas of Westside Cleveland’s early 1980’s CMHA (Cuyahoga Metropolitan Housing Authority) housing projects. I never really had to venture far to find insanity, it had a way of finding me. Over time, applying, working memory of aspects of psychology books read and understood, I developed coping mechanisms to handle virtually anything.

Going back to an earlier time of my sisters and I at my parents house for dinner, we were stressed to the hilt and dealt with it most positively (perhaps a result of one of my dads health issues) : We began to toss plastic cups above our heads and watch them get shot across the kitchen as they hit the moving ceiling fan above us. So absentmindedly they’d ascend from our tensed hands and so quickly they’d blast across the room and crash into the walls.

Wash, rinse and repeat…

Time has a way of marching on…

Sometimes with cups into overhead fans, Chinese Food fights leading to gardens hoses spraying cool summer hose water through a screen window into an open kitchen window. Hose water covering walls, the dog not to mention electrical appliances , my wonderful sisters and I found unique stress breakers, over and over again. One after another, we’d find a ’shut-off valve’ if you will, until we’d laugh ourselves so hard to cry openly at our absurdity. Venting things, frustrations, angers, sadness, emotions we either didn’t have the power, intellect or the skill to vocalize any other way, we had to release them one way or another. Thankfully none of us tortured animals, beat those smaller than us, or became homicidal maniacs. As a family, my sisters and I chose a way that worked for us.
Hell, my sisters and I were pioneers that lead to an area of psychological research that is most huge these days. It’s called: Children of Chronic Illness Environments. We can thank the help of Dr. Gerry Buckley for this. Back in the mid-late seventies, early eighties, an LISW (Lincensed In Social Work) he was so far ahead of the curve. I started with him one on one after my grandfathers death and my reactions to it. (I reversed my life schedule. Slept immediately after school, up all night, avoiding friends. Complete antisocial behavior.) He later believed that if I was so affected by my fathers chronic heart problems, perhaps the rest of the family could be affected as well. Thus becoming a new level of research that started back when. I’m glad I had Gerry in my corner, though the level of trust I found with him did not happen overnight. I was very closed back when, protective. Frightened.
I was 13-14 years old then. I remember getting a full physical exam about a week after my grandfathers burial. He died the first day of Christmas Vacation that year. The results, and I remember the doctors tone of voice, it‘s inflections: “Mr and Mrs Darus, there’s nothing ‘physically’ wrong with him.” And yes, in my young mind, those words echoed as if said loudly in a massive blimp hangover. “NOTHING PHYSICALLY WRONG-WRONGWRONGWRONGWRONG WITH HIM-HIM-HIM WRONG WITH HIM-PHYSICALLY-PHYSICALLY……….”

                  My mother and father chose to tell me their desire for me to talk to a counselor in the Frontier Room of the Glenn Restaurant that was on the corner of Pearl rd and Memphis avenue. I knew too well what that meant after reading psych books. They thought I was nuts, a trolley slightly off the tracks, bonkers, you name it. I still remember what I felt then: Blind fear like that of a cornered animal, losing the battle as my eyes began to weep against my strongest attemps otherwise, wanting to run. Run anywhere as fast as I could to get away from the eyes of the people at the tables around us. Men in dark suits and ties, women in floral dresses with so much hairspray they could deflect bullets.

             They stared at us, their pointed eyes darting from my mother and father and always landing on me like some insect under a microscope. I don’t fault my mom and dad for their place to deliver this message to me, they didn’t know any better and knew I liked this restaurant very much. I cannot imagine what they felt as I disintegrated before their eyes. I still try to place myself in their shoes at that moment in time. <I seem to have a talent to plant myself into the heads of others and gain a sense of what they went through, felt, anguished over, yet to this day, I still fail. I did learn from this and handled things a bit differently with my children during points of concerns I had for them.
                   My sisters and I, over time learned other coping mechanisms.

                      Occasionally finding god, alcohol, other things to fight for, we developed other arenas to live outside the boundries of madness.  Unlike my sisters, I openly walked toward the insanity. You could say I embraced it like one might a new cultures culinary granduer. An avenue to explore where no hard and fast rules applied.

                  From there, I not only played with madness, I learned from it. After all, it had been my companion for a some time.
The second song:

Can I Play With Madness: Iron Maiden.

Give me the sense to wonder
To wonder if I'm free
Give me a sense of wonder
To know I can believe
Give me the strength to hold my head up
Spit back in their face
Don't need no key to unlock this door
Gonna break down the walls
Break out of this bad place

Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind too blind to see

I screamed aloud to the old man
I said don't lie don't say you don't know
I say you'll pay for (this) mischief
In this world or the next
Oh and then he fixed me with a freezing glance
And the hell fires raged in his eyes
He said do you want to know the truth son
- I'll tell you the truth
Your soul's gonna burn in the lake of fire

Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind too blind to see

Oooh, listen to me, listen the prophet...

Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind too blind to see

Can I play with madness

Iron Maiden.


I started this blog on Saturday March third 2012 at about 10:20 AM. I was employed by Progressive Insurance.

I have found myself when I started this and continue to learn more and more each and every day.

I have to thank all of you that have read Psychopathy: Another Life; to those of you that have sent contributions/life stories for submission for the benefit of others to learn from.

I humbly thank the people representing 70 plus Countries that have visited and read this blog repeatedly. I can find no words to express my gratitude for you taking the time to read my thoughts…
For those that likes Statistics:

Currently 15,800 reads/visits.
7,127 hits from the USA. Combined from Ukraine, Russia, Czech Republic: 5,249.
Smallest country reached: Malta with 195 hits.
Quickest country visiting: Spain nailing 1,100 hits in less than two months.
Most read Post: The Closing of Last Year. Published Jan 3 2013 with over 1,400 reads.
Least read: Abigails Story. Published 3/10/2012 with 51 reads.
Most commented on via emails: Where’s my fuckin’ pliers? Published 03/19/2012. I received over 3700 emails in reference to this entry.

I wish to thank every single one of you that is reading this. It is my sincere hope you can find something of value in my words and experiences as well as those from others shared here. It was my pleasure, anguish, sufferings and drive to place this out there.
Thank you for an amazing year!

Mark William Darus 02282013

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

My 2nd Book cover photo credit. A grammar book written by a psychopath

                                     My Second book cover.
                                          Mark William Darus.

                                        My Second book cover.
                                          Mark William Darus.

             I was asked some time ago for permission to use one of my shots for a book cover, that book being Ryn Crickets In Circles.
That cover for Ryn Cricket lead to my shot for Deborah Glaefke Gilbert's book.
Both books are vastly different from one another and most worthy of mention. Both are available on Amazon.
Thank you.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Prostitution: Chloe. A friend.

                                       Prostitution: Chloe.
                                  by Mark William Darus.



(continued from previous entry)

She then pulled out a .38 handgun, saying, “this makes them understand. I’d also tell them I have a friend that watches out. Most times that last was a bluff.”

“so even with oral sex you made them strap-on?”


“I have to ask if you do the ’condom mouth-trick’?”

Chloe smiled, displaying a perfect set of teeth as her body swayed from left to right. Her make up fitting her perfectly for streetlight work, accenting her strong cheekbones and beautiful green eyes. She had short, thick jet black hair that framed her face most grand. Her body, clad in a royal blue tank top tucked into tight fitting blue jeans displaying gorgeous angles of raw femininity. When this warm nights winds shifted her scent toward me, I caught a whiff of passions I’d known so long ago I was nearly startled by the rush of memory.

“Of course I do. It’s always a pleaser. My god! How their eyes always want to explode as I do it!” she said with enthusiasm.

“I’ve got to ask you this question, Chloe. It’s really no biggie, really. Just curious.”

“I do anal, but I’m selective on that one. Very cautious with reason.” she stated firmly.

“Okay, “ I said, taken aback by her statement based so far away from my thoughts at that time, “please continue. Why is that?”

“The only times I’ve had men beat me was when I turned my back to them. Couldn’t see their eyes…” She looked away for a moment. Her eyes getting glassy, perhaps her mind going back to memories she’d wish permanently forgotten. “…couldn’t read them, you know? Granted, I deal with either Pervs or men in frustrating marriages where I will do what their wives will no longer do, but gladly did years ago to catch them.”

“How’s about a refill on those coffees?” the Denny’s waitress asked, quickly snapping Chloe back.

“Oh, yes. Please, thank you.” she said with an even tone and a grateful glance.

“Me, too. Please. ” I added with a smile, taking my eyes away from Chloe briefly.

“Uh, Mark, sorry. Where was I?” she said, her unguarded eyes mating with mine, causing them see what lay beneath her appearance. At that moment I saw something deeper with this woman of the night than I’ve encountered with 99% of those I meet that never drop their guard. The set of her face was calm, yet her voice was shaky, a bit uncertain like that of a young child awaking suddenly from a not so tranquil sleep. “I h-hate it when that happens. It’s like I’m driving forward and realize I’m in reverse. Ya know? Shit, I‘m rambling, aren’t I?” She adds cream and sugar to her coffee, looking down toward it, yet not focusing on it. She is going away again.

“Chloe, it’s no big deal. We all get Amtrak’d from time to time. Here, make my coffee for me. Add the cream and sugar. Please.”

“Amtrak’d?!?! You really are sick, aren’t you?” she laughs as she works my coffee. Slender, delicate fingers rip off the tops of creamers and cuts sugar packets. Her hands working for me for no reason, perhaps her wondering why I’d ask her to do this. Gentle hands gracefully leading to strong arms leading to proud shoulders.

Looking away from as I answer her question, “I suppose I am compared to many. I can face that about myself. For decades I have been told I am different in relation to most have met. I don’t know, I’m just grateful I found out what really made me that way.”

She cocks her head as she leans back against the cushions of the booth. Her blazing green eyes, her mouth curling to a smile most captivating, “A predator, may hap?”

“You’re good. In fact, very good. You deserve a fuckin’ medal.”

“C’mon, Mark. It takes-” she starts.

“one to know one, right?” I cut her off with

“Exactly so!”

Chloe and I were dancing. Our minds connected on wavelengths that went beyond sight and sound, maybe into Rod Serlings Twilight Zone, where the abstract and subconscious are as hard as steel or as soft as the gentle caressing of nude bodies lightly touching for the first time while standing, eventually diving toward full embrace.

“Okay, fine, Chloe. You were answering a question I didn’t ask.”

“come again? Question you didn’t ask?” I caught her off base. Her head raised slightly as her eyes peered at me. She slowly crossed her legs under the table between us, her left foot running across my calf.

“Come again? Hmmm, does a guy pay double for that event?” I had to ask her with a maniacal expression. Anyone that knows me knows full well that some things said must be pounced on instantly.

She bursts into loud laughter, causing many patrons in the Denny’s on Brookpark Rd to stare at us. “Men experiencing multiples… Never thought about it.” Shaking her head, still laughing as she reaches into her purse.

I stopped her hand before she pulled it out. “I wanted to ask you what perfume you were wearing. It hit an olfactory memory is all.” I felt my ability to hold my armor fully slip away as I said that to her. Her hand drew from the purse,, empty.

“Ahhhhh,” she purred, soft lips curling slowly as she began to move to the isle. Standing, she reached for my hand.

A friction arc sparked between our fingers like exiting a car during winter, only more intense as the single blue fire joined her and I differently.

Facing Chloe as she looked at me. It was as if her and I were totally alone in the world. I was holding her hand in mine, the two foot distance apart decreased slowly at first. I felt as if I were melting into her as she liquefied into me. I inhaled deeply with every moment drawing her closer.

“We’re being looked at.” she quipped, uninhibited by it

“Yeah. And how cool is that?” I said honestly.

Tasmin Archer’s Sleeping Satellite fades into Rush’s Time Stands Still descending from the overhead speakers, I move my glance from Chloe and cast a look at a waitress as I extended my left index finger upward. The music volume soon increased.

Feet between us went to inches as Rush played, leading to inches as we threw are arms around each other and hugged.

“Freeze this moment a little bit longer, make each sensation a little strong. Experience slips away….” Geddy Lee sang as a hug turned to slow gyrations of our joined hips and peaceful heads resting on each others shoulders.

“Time stands still, “ Chloe sang to me, somewhat off key, though heart felt.

“I’m not looking back,” I add.

As our voices join: “ See more of the people, and the places that surround me now.”

“The innocents slips away…” the band plays on as we dance in this most unusual place. Her arms thrown upward wildly, unbridled as I do the same as is reaching to grasp and capture air with our fingers.

As the song ends, we stop and look into each others eyes. She and I laugh as our heads look about the restaurant, caring not about the spectacle we created. I believe we both knew we gave these people a memory they will never forget.

As we sat across from each other, me feeling colder than I have ever physically felt in decades, the waitress said desert was on the house. I cannot remember what we ordered, but it was good.

“I’m wearing Ariane-”

“By Avon!” I cut her off with.

“That must go deep with you, Mark.” she said looking almost sad asked it.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been asked to do?”

“Subtle as a chainsaw, there. I was asked to shit on a guys face. Do you have any idea how hard that is to do? Was the longest Johns I’ve had to date. I mean, it took about two hours to make this happen. I did though. Filthy. I felt rotten right up to when he gave me 500 for it. Still, not as easy as a ‘golden shower.”

“how long have you been a Pro?”

“Just over twenty years. Sorry, but it’s an easier and faster way to make money than any other. You just have to be careful and I don’t just mean with clients. Treat it as a job, ya know. A single martini is okay at the end of a day, just don’t let it lead to a bottle of Jack Daniels, endless joints or drugs. It’s a job, you do your best to please the boss.”

“Sounds like what most of us do for a living.”

“True, but most of you make way less then I do per hour.”

“No doubt, Chloe.”


As her and I left Denny’s, she stopped me and smashed her right into her purse once again. I lit a L&M 100 and she asked me to light her one as she fumbled her fingers about, trying to capture something.

“Here you go,” I placed the cigarette between her lips as her hand came out.

“Take this.” she said as she held out a twenty dollar bill. The same one I had given her a few hours earlier.

“I can’t. Sorry. No.” I fumbled like the Cleveland Browns as I searched for words and like the Browns, failing.

“Hmmmm, then the next breakfast or lunch is on me.” she said, adding; “would you kindly drive a woman home?”

“Not back to where I got you from?”

“Nah. I want home. Kind of tired now. I want you to take me there, Mark.” She inhaled deeply on her cig.

“I can do that. Beautiful night, isn’t?” I asked her looking at a full moon as crickets chirped and cars drove by.

We climbed into my Trailblazer and I took her to her place in Parma Hts.

“Walk a lady to the door,” she’d said as I opened my trucks door for her.

“of course! Got coffee?” I asked.

Entering her private world of MC Escher prints displayed on the walls, cinnamon bisquit Yankee Candles and general comfy-ness, I was transported somewhere else. Her calico kitty, Sam meowed to let us know she’d found us.

“make yourself at home,” she said as she exited from the living room to somewhere else.

I dropped to my left knee and rubbed the kitty. Being a Leo and a Tiger in the Chinese calendar, they somehow flock to me even though I am allergic to them. I get congested and sneeze. So fucking what is that minor problem? I’d rather be congested and connect than fall to weakness and miss out on something.

Chloe draws my attention from her cat as she, standing in a long white cotton robe, says, “Would you like to spend the night with me?”

“Well,, honestly. No. I, uh-”

“That’s okay. I, hmmm, understand-”

“shut up! You didn’t let me finish. I don’t usually wake up until the afternoon. Have you got another robe for me to change into?”

Smiling, she pointed to her bathroom.

I walked into it. It smelled of fresh roses and lilacs, its floored grey ceramic tiled, it‘s walls floral water resistant vinyl. As I closed its door, I saw a black robe. I took it into my hands and ran it across my nose inch by inch. I found it nothing less than that of the Snuggle Bear fragrance. I got nude and covered myself with it. I pulled its waist draw tight. The physical sensations her robe created was vast across my body. I felt vibrations run from my ankles to my shoulders as I felt Chloe’s bathrobe meet my flesh.

“Glad to see you, Mark.” she said. I saw a single tear falling from her right eye, resting on her cheek.

Feeling drunk without a drop, I told her we needed to dance. “Nice to be with you, darling.” I added.

She nodded and pulled me to her cabinet of CD’s.

I found one In her collection. We danced this album fully robed. It was the

Cocteau Twins Milk and Kisses album/CD. We sang to one another as we held. As we shared of things never said to others close to us. Our tears had intercourse against our faces while our innocent eyes met.

As the song Seekers Who are Lovers began to play, we undressed each other.

Naked before one another, her and I smiled as we danced to it.


Hours later after talking, laughing, sharing being completely naked, we fell asleep in each others arms as we were brought into this world. We did not have intercourse, sex or any exchange beyond a fond kiss and sincere embrace nude.

Chloe and I became the closest of friends. We often spent naked hours as we talked in her kitchen or watching bad movies in her living room.

Chloe died the following fall of small cell lung cancer. I was with her as much as I could. I was unemployed for the most of it, so I gave her my best.

Her last words: “I’ll be here for you. Somewhere in the night, Don’t be sad, you’re not alone. I will be your shelter. There’s nothing to fear.” And she died before me. And I felt so physically disconnected with everything.

I wanted too rip my teeth out. I wanted to let my hands be run over by a truck. I wanted to cry, but couldn’t. I desired an embrace of Satan to bring her gentle soul back to me. I would have done anything.

Chloe was a whore. A Sinner. A prostitute. A lesser form of being than others.

She was my friend, loyal and true for the time I was blessed to have with her in my life.

She made her way in this life, trading hours for life-support.

In my way of thinking, she is no different than any of us doing the same. I have logged decades of hours as a call center Rep at both ERC (alarm monitoring or Progressive Insurance telling people what they wanted to hear.

Like Chloe telling men they had a huge dick and so forth, I’d tell customers how valued they were to us so we could meet a quota to please our pimps, <my last two years at Progressive MGR’s. I was a whore like Chloe. I didn’t swallow sperm filled latex condoms, yet I let myself be shredded as I stretched the truth like an Olympic gymnast contorting her body to the extreme as I spread white-lies.
I was unemployed for the time I knew her. Knowing her gave me a further ability to sense a life not so different than my own.
Thank you, Chloe.
I miss you.

Mark William Darus. 02252013

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

A photo apology.... I am sorry.

         Dear reader,
          I am having system issues.
          I am having issues transferring entries from Microsoft Word to this blog. When I first attempted to transfer it, all the text was backward.
          That is why yesterdays entry was so short and why it just stopped the way it did. 
           Currently trying to get this corrected.
Please accept these photos taken over the last few months as a form of apology.

Listen to this song as you review these photos. Having heard this song the first time last weekend, falling for its beauty, I thought of my photography as I listened to it.

Taken 11-15-2012
Taken 10-22-2012 Cleveland Ohio, USA from Edgewater park
Taken 10-22-2012 Bear cub resting on it's mom. Cleveland Zoo.
9-15-2012 Edgewater park.
08-17-2012 Edgewater

                                                         The two shots above taken 02-09-2013. Cleveland Botanical Gardens.

01-26-2012 Conneaut Lake Park, PA, USA.
09-24-2012 Taken from my backyard with a Fujifilm S4200.
                                              09-21-2012: Cleveland MetroParks.

10-28-2012 Edgewater Park.
9-17-2012 Riverside Cemetary, Cleveland Ohio, USA.
9-11-2012. Cleveland Metroparks.

9-06-2012 First time I caught lightening.

                                                9-3-2012 Zoar Ohio, USA.
7-13-2012. One of the first digital shots I took. Taken in my cubicle from a former life gladly not missed.
08-27-2012. Mr. Squirrel says: WTF?!?!?!
9-1-2012 Mittal Steel: Cleveland Ohio. Made me think of the intro to Blade Runner.
9-1-2012. taken from Clark Field, Cleveland. Cleveland Airshow: Blue Angels.
9-1-2012. Clark Field: Cleveland Ohio. This little bugger was growing from a crack in the asphalt. How cool is that?
9-1-2012. Garbage Can Colours. Clark Field.
9-1-2012. Clark Field. This guy was amazing to watch!
8-29-2012 That's right, the Moon is Private Property. As if! lol
8-29-2012. On the wasted lands of a polluted steel plant, tell me how this isn't beautiful. Sure, it's a weed, but no different than the rest of us, does it not wish to live and reach the warmth of sunlight?
9-9-2012 Aurora Premium Outlet; Aurora Ohio.
The above and several below were from a clambake: Fall 2012. I find it odd how I didn't make a Facebook album of these people shots.
The host: Dave P. I know about 7 Daves very well and all of them are great men.

Smiles, laughter, hope for humanity.
The two men in the center are father and son. Nice.
The Captain (host in yellow and the DJ in grey: Rockin' the outdoor kitchen and doin' it grand!
I think this the luckiest shot I got that night. There is something about this one that I felt so lucky to have captured of this man.

Such a great woman. So full of energy and life. I'm blessed to know her and her eager hugs when she sees me.
Totally out of focus, yes, yet this childs smile beams so innocently and sincere.
Night time Corh Hole Tourney wind-down. Ass's to the camera idiot! lol

9-30-2012 My bestest friend and his wife: 25 years of marriage renewing thier vows. They are execeptional. First time married's and renewing.
The next shots came from this event.
Their daughter. Double Major in college, currently a senior with honors. My friend and his good lady gave me the chance to watch their children grow over the years.
Their son. Fearless, enthusiastic and a roller coaster fanatic.

                                                            My bestest friend, David R.  I have no clue why you put up with me and my bizare ways. Yet you do and I am profoundly grateful for this.

                                           Cleveland Zoo and several below this.
Baby and mom Rhino's snuggling.  Loving this endangered animal, I am glad the Cleveland Zoo keeps having these babes born here.
Mentor Headlands Ohio.
Mentor Headlands Ohio.

Akron Zoo, Akron Ohio, USA.

Taken 9-28-2012. I consider this to be one of the best shots I have taken to date. A friend of my eldest daughter. She calls me dad after knowing her for some 16 plus years.
The lyrics to Stars. <the song link I posted at the beginning of the photos.
It's funny when you find
What you want was by your side
The whole time

I couldn't quite believe it
But suddenly I see it
And you saw me

I saw stars
I saw sky
I saw everything inside
You saw me

Now I am not afraid
You can't make me turn away
This time
I couldn't quite believe it
But suddenly I see it
And you saw me

I saw stars
I saw sky
I saw everything inside
You saw me
Light from dark
Shine on night
Solar-systems open wide
You saw me

And you're opening my eyes
And you're leading me on
And I'm following the light
That you shone on me

I saw stars
I saw sky
I saw everything inside
You saw me
Light from dark
Shine on night
Solar-systems open wide
You saw me
As I write this, rain is turning to snowflakes.
The song Stars fits me. Something causes me to write and photograph what I do. My higher power, perhaps. I have no complaints.
Mark William Darus 02192012