A Babe of the Modern Age: The Children Of This Blue Marble R R Future.

                                         A Babe of the Modern Age.
                                                   Rhinobaby II.
                                    A short film with original music.

                                            A SlamTraktor Production.
                                          (all rights and lefts reserved.)

                                     I shot this footage November 2012 at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. Cleveland Ohio USA. In the last two days, I edited this, wiped out the background noise and synthesized music for it.

 

Thank you for watching the first production from SlamTraktor Productions.

SlamTraktor is the Multimedia division of Psychopathy: Another Life. Video freely used with simple permission. (just email).

 

              Authors note: I would like to thank Those that brought and continuously bring inspiration to me in word, sight and sound.

 

 

             My Higher Power: You got me back into photography but a year ago. I had no idea why you had me buy that Kodak Easyshare from Big Lots when I really didn't have to spare cash to do it. You made me go digital and fired my mind as you said to me in such a calm and even voice: "You write okay, M'boy, you are descriptive squared and all.  You do reach people of wide spectrum, putting them into scenarios unknown to them. I gave you a gift and you now run with it: Being able to express your mind without fear of rejection. You are a student of life, and from that, you respect how I touched your life at birth and share it with others being a teacher. You were given an eye to capture things  with a mind to describe thoughts sharply with written word. The grace to capture photographs and express about them. Be not afraid, I said to you over a year and half ago. So glad you listened and never wavered at any point."

 

Thanks to my Facebook Friends and their encouraging words. You all inspired me with your thoughts to go further with my photography.

 

Thank you to Ryn Cricket and Deborah Glaefke Gilbert! You placed my photographs as covers for your books.  Thanks most profoundly!

 

And BIGGEST/HUGEST thanks to momma and baby Rhino! Thank you most high for the chance to film you and your child as it runs about! You and your kind are endangered. You and your baby are amongst the slimmest of Minorities to merely walk with us as your Lands become nothing more than monetary gains to select humans.  May those of us enlightened do what we can to prevent your extinction.  

 

Personally speaking: I guess everything is a form of inspiration to me. Even in my psychopathic being, why is it I can find the so-called Silver-Lining in the darkness so many of the desolate angels, feeling their religions most highly cast blame to others casting off their own guilt for its making?

 

Answer:

"Because they can't dance like I can!" Dr Greg House, TV show: HOUSE.

 

Hoping you liked the video.

 

Mark William Darus

SlamTraktor Production LTD.

08082013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                       

Animals. A Video with original music. Blog Exclusive. and other things.

                                  Animals. A Video with original music.
                                               by Mark William Darus.

                    Filmed at Rolling Ridge Ranch: Millersburg Ohio USA. August 2013.

                     Yeah, amateurish. Still learning a new art. Pretty cool at 51 years old and still believe there is no box for us to think out of. I have so much to learn and love it!

                     I try to learn something each and every day. I freely admit to being ignorant when it comes to so many aspects of life: sewing, Physics, Brain surgery or a heart bypass surgery(though I think I could do this one).

                     This is my belief.  I think some of you might know this already and hold it high within your being.

                      The Secret to feeling young eludes  of you as you go toward tummy tucks, anorexia and or a belief in Infomercials in the wee hours broadcasting aimed directly at your temples. You so willingly forget the strength of your own will.

                      All you simply need to do is try something different and challenge yourself. Leave your comfort place for a few moments a day and learn things you didn't think yourself possible of.  Toss yourself into an unknown area and never, ever care of looking yourself a fool to others.

                       You were a baby once. You forgave yourself your failings then. Learning to crawl, bank off objects and learn to stand. Eventually to walk, perhaps even run and the fallings, tumblings and bashing face to pavement.

                       As a babe, you cried and screamed and wailed madly!

                       Why should this be any different as you became an adult? Granted, you don't always have a mother or father to hold you. They may not be around due to distance or death, so why not fall back on memories happy in your past. Go from tricycle to bicycle. From simple reading to sincere composition,  to gaining strength to differ from our parents views.

                             Life and Learning are NeverEnding stories with those of us with eyes vigilant. I guess the trick is to merely keep ones eyes open.

                       

                        You learned to crawl.

                         To mumble sounds into words.

                         Words, perhaps reaching growls.

                          Thoughts like jigsaw puzzles completed.

                          Personal Expression.




                     Enjoy and Thanks,
                     MWD08062013

                

              
             




                    

What Food is Your Life Worth?

                                                Muffins or Death!
                               Restructuring ones self for mere survival
                                          By Mark William Darus.

　

           She awakens beneath comfy blankets, mind drifting from dreamland to cold shadows dancing across her first floor bedroom apartments walls. Her eyes slowly open, attempting to adjust, give place, take in.

            Inhaling a huge amount of air, her large body’s muscles go to their limit. Heels, pressing firmly below them against cotton sheets,moving, strolling outward. Flabby arms reaching away from body, heavy shoulders constricting, lower back attempting to arch.

       The smell of blueberry muffins fills her nostrils.

        She begins to salivate, spit filling her mouth like that of Pavlov’s dogs. Fighting it, grabbing a towel, wiping it off.

              Finishing a painful stretch.

          A simple stretch most of us take for granted with each and every awakening we have.

       Yet for others, this brings a pain many of us will never know.

　

         She greets her daughter who had made the muffins.

           “Go-ood, m-morning, Sh-Shauna,” she stammered, not fully awake, yet very hungry.

         “Good morning, Mum! You look well today!” the child of 17 said to her mother in clear voice.

        The two bedroom, 900 sq foot apartment was filled with the scent of blueberry muffins. Each and every crevice spoke of eating, flat white walls dripping blueberries like gore in a slasher film, perhaps with a circus clown adding some real butter across muffin peaks for fuller flavor.

　

            Torture filling every member, every muscle, every joint of her body as she takes every slow step further. Familiar longings tugging her in directions of a half century of memories of cooking.

            Her moms breakfast scents filling the upstairs hallway. Food being ready as she traveled down the stairway with its cigarette smoke stained walls. With each step down, her nose taking in if it be eggs and bacon, potatoes and eggs, pancakes, toast or French toast, oatmeal or Cream of Wheat. The stench of Maxim instant coffee and L&M cigarettes crushes her when entering the kitchen. This bothered her immensely, but didn’t curb other things.

          She devoured all that was before her. Sometimes reaching to others plates when they hesitated.

          Dinner time came to her not soon enough. She had accomplished her junior high school homework quickly and happily. Her mind, thinking of singing chorus and the joy that brought her, as well as her studies, wanting to be a history teacher.

            Dinner would come, either from her mother or grandmother, Jenny whom lived across the porch. Her father had heart disease and gone through countless heart attacks (losing track after his thirteenth one, two heart surgeries in the early to mid 1970’s) so cooking often was divided as families back when willingly/happily shared responsibilities of the simple human carings. >intrusion by the author here: Back when, people truly loved and cared for family. I have my doubts that this still exists today in White American Society<.

               Her grandmother, Jenny made huge meals. Jenny was a survivor of the American Great Depression, much like her fathers grandmother of Ukrainian descent, believing a simple truth of her life: Eat as much as you can when you can! You could be without for a long time in between.

                  In absence of her mom, Jenny stepped up to the mound, ready to throw fierce fast balls and mesmerizing curve balls to keep her family fed regardless of circumstance.

         Jenny Sturdivant was an amazing cook.

         Full course meals in fact. Salad, vegetables highly buttered, walking toward meat! Be it chicken, pork or cow, this lady did always heave her best out each and ever day. Mashed potatoes slathered in the thickest of butter. There were always some form of cookies or desert afterward. Always.

        “Eat! Eat! Eat up!” Jenny would say taking a swig of a liquid.

             Her other grandma (100 percent Ukrianian) would merely have her sons and grandchildren leave her home with pirogee well into 80 plus year of life. She made both potato and Sauer kraut. Creating them over her six day week endlessly She would also give them a quarter gallon of pure butter cooked with sweet onions, simmered slowly over an hour. Wanting, driven, she created culinary feats few could match with either both quantity nor quality. And to think she tossed her product into an old clawed porcelain bathtub for her children to dig in and share her creation with their families.

            I ask you.

               How fucking cool is that?

            So sad to think this type of thing has died over the decades in the United States.

           Nightmares now fill the mind with arteries clogging like that of kitchen basin overloaded with bacon grease. A once two inch span cut to a half inch width. Heart pumping, labored, chugging.

            Abrupt, harshest of roundabouts swings you sideways to thoughts beyond, yet backward further.

             Corrective surgery needed as knees lose ability, ankles give up and a life of more than 5 years seems impossible as her will turns sideways. Thinking of this 2 years ago, she entertained a journey into a mine field of her desires.

             Her personal darkest moments of what is important to her. Her son. Wanting to see him graduate high school, college. Fall in love and feel hurt. A parent like most: Want to see the best for their children,

　

          Mind scrambling too and fro, Fighting denial, struggling, sweating feverish apparitions, thirsty.

                                                          Thirsty!

                 Yes, she must be thirsty for water.

               The thirst for water is a given instinct with us.

                  We all spent the first nine months of our lives in water, didn’t most of us?

                   “are your friends going to over all daY” she asks, a voice now strong.

               “Yes, Mum.” he child said softly.

                She, a mere two weeks before had gastric bypass surgery, looks to her child.

                 She pauses for a moment to think on the coldness of her thoughts, reflects on her life, and asks: “are they going to stay til tomorrow?”

             Her cat cries about an empty water bowl behind her as she opens the drapes of her living room. Her dilated blue eyes cause a crashing of light as she takes in the splendor of another day.

              Reverse and set your mind at ease like an Orwellian story where time does what it does. Her mind smashes about violently from past things to her childhood, memory of being married, of still births and the triumph of her childs birth.



             “Count backward from 9. 8 , se------vin. si…” the surgical god of tranquility spoke to her as the music of the surgical theatre played out at the surgeons request while he performs his job. Asking a nurse for the proper tool….

            “9-8-sevvvvvvin……” dreamland awakens to her. Drug induced slumber create oher wondrous ties of possible futures as her physical body goes numb to the profoundest of intrusions bringing peace legally.

　

　

           Surgeons cut her belly from points A to B.

           Flesh opened. Masked eyes peering into her body as others looked at it in High

              Definition, latex covered blue fingers dig into her with surgical steel clamps, dividers and dive into like Greg Lugginis with precise precession mating.

　

　

                 She is smiling sincerely. She has lost 18 lbs in two weeks according to her doctor in his stuffy office space and the antiseptic smelly corridor of its scale.

             “Your friends being over is fine.” she says.

              I can take it. I really can with what they want to eat and I can’t.

              I have no other purpose for food but to simply keep me alive.

Looking at her child, cat and thinking of family and friends, she thinks of a song her brother told her about.
There’s a time and a place to die, and this ain’t!

                  She struggles onward. No good things comes without pain. Think me wrong, as a woman about childbirth!


                   A better song springs to her mind.
                   She runs with it...

                    as her mind and body....

                     begin to sing and dance as she grows and grows.

                    Being reborn.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dWQEUzOACm4

                     Mark William Darus. 07302013

                      Thanks to a strong individual that granted me the right to write this.

                      I was the sad idiot that pissed off many and didn't eat more. Mother, grandmothers, friends parents. It didn't bother me in the slightest as I offended then as they heaped food to plate and me telling them no. Needless to say, I was not popular at many homes, yet found this amusing over decades.










 

Give me not for my Birthday. Speak praise of my parents. They made me.

              How does one thank their mother and father for making them?

              Where does one dive into their murky depths as well as the most brilliant points of existence? An existence based on two people mating and creating you?

             Sex is such a violent act in itself.

            The penetration of a female from a male.

             Blood pressure goes berserk as if climbs human Alps, heart rate rises rapidly, muscles expand and constrict quickly. Increased respiration. Involuntary movements and vocal response. Reaching male orgasm, sometimes his messengers hit the mailbox, other times, not.

           Swimming in pitch darkness, trying to find a ladder for lifes sake, one half of what will become YOU splashes about madly as time is of the essence. Mere flashes of electricity give this half of you a chance for sight.

            Upstream, downstream and rogue waves toss about viciously.

             At this point, you’re nothing more than a mailed letter amongst millions.

          In a different place, another land, a village adjacent,  lies an egg. Lonely and waiting to embrace the vigilant  voyager that truly has traveled quite far as an intruder.

         Secondary penetration occurs. Explosive, yet shielding at the same time.

            A mans seed crashes the shell of a woman’s egg.

             From this set of things, we are made. Truly blind chance.

            My birthday is July 26 1962.

             My parents created me some nine months before that date as they connected themselves with love and passion. Knowing my late parents as well I think I did, I can imagine their movements, hear their panting tones, quivering voices, their eyes locked supremely to one another.

         My father fired a fastball, mom caught it.

         And I started from there.

          I, oddly, some might say, sickly, can see this as plainly as the screen before me.

          Yeah, I don’t view things like others do. For that I am grateful and proud to be that way.

           I really don’t care if others don’t give me things on my birthday. It matters not to me in the slightest on this.

          On my birthday, I can only thank my parents for having really good sex to make me happen.

        Thank you Mom and Dad! This is your day of celebration, not mine. To me, as you both created me, a sublime team effort amazing!

         I miss you both so very much. Mom: the touch of your fingers coming or going away from you even if only for a few hours. Dad, the brush of your arm, elbow, shoulders much the same as moms. Seeing your eyes as parted, the smell of instance Coffee and L&M cigarettes lingering in the air like warm sunlight, the tones of your voices. 

My Father. Many times a Santa at many places. Mid 80's with a Pentax SLR.

My mother and eldest daughter Rachel as a baby. Mid 80's SLR.

 

        I have little clue how you view my life since your passings, but that's okay. I get inklings now and again as my mind does mental calisthenics. I have no doubt you will kick my ass when I see you both again. I have this coming as it's well earned on my part.  You never asked for perfection, and I really have that covered!

totdat wir зустрічатися again!

Mark William Darus: Proud son of Marion F and Ted Darus. 07252013

A Dismal Future Unless We Are Very Careful. Dwink of Water.

                                Water: Mommy, can I have another 'dwink' of water?
                                              by Mark William Darus.

                                  Part One. A start on a Mothers fight.

                    
                         A small daughter of our Tiny Blue Marble lovingly looks up at its mother. Mother and daughter, eyes locked in complete serenity, the childs peaceful voice asks, "mummy, can I have another dwink of water?"

                         The dirtied haired mother looks down at her child, startled, somewhat frightened. Mothers face muscles tighten fast.  Her mind is shooting like a freight train without functioning brakes, scrambling, tortured, hurting. She looks around their flat and  its barren, crumbling walls, broken screen windows allowing flies to soar in. She thinks quickly, as fast as she can, milliseconds elapsing. Thinking: I can do this for her! I just have to cut 10 volts of electricity over the next ten days. Yeah! I can do this. Her face loosened to more calm continence.

                     "Excuse me a moment, my darling," She turned her back to a daughters loving eyes looking toward her.

                     The child, sleepy after a great day of adventure. Memories of breakfast with mum giving her cereal and fatty bacon. Getting dressed.  Mother pointing out bird songs from the forest, they sounded so sweet to me,  as we walked to Kinder School. Running freely about the neighborhood with friends after school before seeing Mum after she returns from work for hugs and gentle kisses to me.

                     This child and her friends held many things in common. Filthy hair and faces hugely pimpled far beyond their years. All of them under the age of 9, living not in some third world country. They were new kids in America.

                      Reaching the kitchen, the mother looks at her Nestlaide 2100 Water Carrying Device, service number N2100WCD07261962, and slowly lowers a decades old Dixie Cup to its nipple. Looking at its display, she presses the 2oz send button to fill it.

             A raspy, electrically crackling female voice speaks from the unit: "Tha-ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-TEE-nk your for choosing Nestle!" As warm as a Siberian Winter in February.

             Precious cup filled, the mother walks tenderly to the closet that is her childs bedroom . Never wanting to spill the tiniest of drops from its vastly over used frame, she moves ever so cautiously with purpose. Her mind meanders to better times, simpler times, when all she had to do was put her nipple to her babies mouth to sustain it. She blows that off and concentrates on the task at hand.

             Taking the battered Dixie Cup, gently lowering it to her childs tender pink lips, mating rim to mouth, its small quantity runs.

             As its aqua  volume ceases, the childs mouth is opened wide, like that of a baby bird expecting more worm food. Mother taps her slender finger on the cups rim repeatedly til every drop to reach her childs tongue.

             Mother thinks, how did we come to this?

             >Author Intrusion< Considering these things in history: When I was a high school student, I knew many grocery store workers that made over 10 dollars an hour. Granted, the Reagan administration killed them at around the same time as the Air Traffic Controllers Union. Interesting point in history.  Capitalism is a plague across our globe. It is also a failed system, and if it were not so, why did the American people have to bail out the, errr, our own, banks?  Come on! How fucked up is that? Yeah, let's each and every one of us give our tax dollars for these pricks to raise our interest rates.

                    This is merely part one of a mother trying to keep her daughter alive in a world we WILL see sooner than we think.


                               My film: Water.

Thank you for taking the time.

 

The only dead soul is one that stops learning.

MWD07222013

 

based on the heels of this post:

http://psychopathyanotherlife.blogspot.com/2013/07/who-owns-our-earths-waters-nestle-corp.html

 

 

          
                 

Who Owns Our Earths Waters? Nestle Corp would like to. Stand against them!

 

                             

 

                                   Corporate Pyschopathy: Part II: Nestle Corp.
                          "Water is not a Human Right and should be privatized"


                                      I am sharing with you a video interview with the CEO  of Nestle Corp. He thinks water should be owned and traded like, say, oil. He believes the benefit of water is not a human right.

                               Ladies and Gentleman, Children both young and old! Please acquaint yourself with  Peter Brabeck: Chief Executive Office (CEO)Nestle Corporation and his views on something none of us can live without.

                             Sure, we can survive without oil if needs be. History and basic human survival   have taught us this over the centuries. The struggles and prosperities are a mere memory away if we can simply remember the stories shared by our ancestors of their hardships. For my Lands: United States of America, I remember my grandfathers words of our Great Depression and how his countries existence shifted, contorted, strived for keeping loved ones fed and covered in shelter. Poverty hit most high here in the 1930's, as well as the world.

                          "Mark, those few of us that worked during the Great Depression, had the glory of still having a job to work. We worked as much and as hard as we could! We did this not for egos sake, prestige nor gain. We did this to keep our wives and children alive. Our families alive. Many of us had parents still alive and they needed to be tended to. My grandson, never forget my words to you..."

                          I was like 12 or so years old when he passed. His thoughts, tone and expression whilst we talked as he made me pancakes have NEVER left my memory. When it came to World War Two and Japan, he told me in the early Seventies: "Yeah, we won a battle. The Victor in this war will be determined by time itself over generations to follow."

                         C'mon,  you must  know Nestle well growing up in many countries on our shrinking Blue Marble: Nestles Crunch Breakfast Cereals: Cheerios, Cini Mini's, (United States of America).

                             The World of the Nestle Corporation:

                          Other things:  Toll House Cookies, Carnation, Coffee-Mate. Moca (Brazil). Bear Brand Probiotic (Philippines). Hirz (Switzerland). Sveltesse (France). Munch Brunch (United Kingdom).

                          Ice Cream known across the globe: : Camy (Spain). Δέλτα (Greece). Делта (Bulgaria). Frigor (Argentina). Hjem-IS (Denmark & Sweden). Kotijäätelö (Finland). Motta (Italy). Kimo (Egypt). Oreo (Canada). Nestlé Princessa (Poland). And others hosting countless flags via generic shadows.
                      
                          Infant, Baby Foods:  Gerber (USA). Farinha Láctea (Brazil). Nestum (Portugal). Cérélac (no specific country). FM 85 (sorry, but this smacks so hard of a Stephen King story of a US bio-experiment gone sideways...)  Good Start (no specific country). Nan Ha (no specific country). Lactogen (no specific country). Piltti (Finland). Guigoz (no specific country. NanSoy (no specific country. Bona (Finland).

                        Okay, forget baking, cereals and infant food products created by this company. Let's stroll a moment down other avenues, shall we?

                         Performance Products: These are the types of items you'd consume to either enhance muscle growth to helping encourage weight loss or build muscle mass after shedding weight.

                          No countries given on these items. Nestiva. Pria, Supligen, Mushachi, Neston and my personal favorite in the USA, PowerBar.

                         Perhaps I am writing far too heartless about a global corporation that so deeply cares about us. Maybe I should take a step back for a moment, express their endeavors for us to be healthier and more fulfilled.

                  Nestle Corporation Healthcare and Nutrition products:

                     Compleat. Fibersource. Glytol. Diabitisource. Crucial. Nutren. Optifast. Peptamen. Boost.


                 Okay, their seasonings can make our meagerness in cooking taste a tad better in day to day life after a days/nights of sweating to sustain/ or perhaps apologizing to others we've done no wrong to.  Granted, they mostly carry an unhealthy sodium content and most Americans care little about this. >>>I care little about health over taste. I have a scapegoat though: I keep losing weight in this life of my last eleven months and no longer need blood pressure meds. I guess I'm either blessed or cursed. You decide.<<<

                     Their seasonings: Winiary. Thomy. CHEF. MAggi.

                     Frozen Foods: >I'd subtitle this: immediate need to satisfy hunger as there are no longer enough hours in a 24 hour day to sustain to feed my family.< Nestle Corp is not solely responsible for this. They do however  hold a lions share of a market that fuels these thoughts. This company carries brand names known to most of this globe:

                      Tombstone Pizza. Papa Guiseppi,  Lean Cuisine, Hot Pockets, Stouffer's.

                       Hmmm, think of our pets~!  Yeah, they got it covered.

                        Alpo. Friskies, Mighty Dog. Purina. Dog chow. Cat chow. Felix. Beneful. Beggin' Strips.

                         Candy Products sold: Baby Ruth. Bon Pari ( Slovakia, Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary.) Big Turk (Canada). Goobers (Polo). Chips Ahoy (USA and Canada). After Eight (Australia). Bertie Beetle (Ukraine). Sweet Tarts (global).

                            Like me, I am sure you have enjoyed this company over the decades.

                           Watch this video and I am sure your spending viewpoint will change.

                             You've gone this far...
                              What's your opinion?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4C29_U0Ksao
                                

                                Does the word boycott cross your mind?

                               Imagine a day we would say to our children: NO! run away from the open fire hydrant less we get charged for it on a very hot sunny day. How many glasses have you had.

                               Close your eyes and look back on this...

                               A time when you were your young.

                                Asking simply.

                                Can I have another drink of water?

        Mark William Darus 07202013

                Thank you for reading.

Mark William Darus 07202013





                       

                       

Beauty.

                                               Something I did today.
                                                          MWD

                                              Share peace and turmoil. \

                                                     Fight or flight.

                                               It really is your choice.

Seeing and catching: Wanting going backward in time.

                                          

                     Seeing and catching: Wanting going backward in time.      

                               My wishes for the Gettyburg PA, USA trip.

                                             by Mark William Darus

           

                                        Part of a letter sent to several.

 I hope you can use what I will be taking as a teaching tool as you are a history teacher.

 

I'm heading to Gettysburg next week for the 150th anniversary. I will be camping there on the 1st thru 3rd. You being a history teacher: Is there anything you would like me to shoot while I am there?

 

(I plan on heavy shooting on the 2nd from Little Round Top <Chamberlain of the 20th Maine looking down as well as the Souths futile attempt to take that high ground.> I plan on shooting from Devils Den as well. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, as well as Robert E. Lee, was my greatest hero of our Amerikan  Civil War. His sheer audacity and leadership saved the day. I am getting goosebumps writing this: Heidi: I will be on the same ground, same place one hundred and fifty years later at the same time! HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT? I can't wait to photo it as my mind wanders to areas of what it must have been like for both sides during this battle.

 

My higher power/god, just think about it: Chamberlains men, out of ammo as the South keeps trying, bloody attempt after another to take the hill. Chamberlain gathers his officers together, coldly gives them orders on how to do a Closing Door maneuver and crush the Southern attempts. His officers look at him as if insane as he states, 'we're out of ammunition, what else can we do?' He then screams in desparation: "FIX BAYONETS!"

 

Imagine being a southern soldier, fighting for air as you climb the same hill for the third, perhaps fifth time after being repulsed  and see several hundred men coming at you with bayonets aimed straight at you.

 

Fight or flight?

 

At that point, undoubtedly due to exhaustion, gave up on the South on the 2nd day of this battle. Keep in mind: The temps were in the 90's, humidity very high. They wore wool uniforms and clothing underneath it. Their body temps had to be near heatstroke. These were men 150 years ago that body-proud humans of today would have a hard meagerly mirroring for a single hour before keeling over.

 

I wish to shoot from Buford's view on day one of the conflict. He knew he couldn't hold this ground, advised his officers of this and they followed him nonetheless. He was horrifically under-manned. (ironically speaking: The South usually were the same in the first two years of this war, and they won battle after battle.) I want to photo the Souths angle going toward Buford in an attempt to see how they took Day One.

 

Day Three? I plan on photographing from the South Artillery placement, General James Longstreet order, via Robert E. Lee, to have General Pickets army as they left the relative safety of the wooded area to the North's cutting them to bits with cannon, muskets and canister fire in a field of over a mile in both length and width.

 

I also plan on getting Culps Hill, pEACH oRCHERD, (sorry about the Capslock shit) and Wheatfield.

 

What, as a teacher of history, would you like me to catch? Let me know before Saturday June 29th 2013. You may think yourself not a teacher of such, yet you truly are.  

 

I so cannot wait for this chance! My cameras batteries at the ready, memory cards giving me over 2200 shots to take in the three days. My mind, well? I may not be like most of you, but so help me, I will make my words empathetic as I write about this walk into history and those affected as my thoughts catch glimpses of things. Be them glimmers of an onlooker and their thoughts to thinking of what it must have been like for those that fought the 3 days. I wish to be taken into the mind of a child that has fled his parents security to see this fighting first hand and the brutality of mankind. I wish to find myself looking down on it from the eyes of a bird, perhaps and Eagle, and wonder why. Think of the viewpoint of the civilian men and woman that buried the thousands upon thousands of dead that were never really written about.

 

      You all know I am  NOT NORMAL nor traditional in any respect. I hope to create something this trip better than any other thing I have ever done on this earth. With photos and writings based on inspiration alone, make something historically meaningful for my readers on the blog, facebook friends and anyone else that happens to wander in for whatever reason.

 

       On the other hand, maybe I am doing this selfishly. Maybe I just wish to 'feel' something, anything not sexuality related once again as I did many, many decades ago. I'm blind walking a desert on this plain with myself. Granted, I am comfortable with this place, yet I wonder if there isn't something more. I hear others exclaim to the wonders of love and happiness, to later hear them talk words of hate and wanting pain for those they spoke of love about within three months to 15 years of separation or divorcing them from their lives.

 

        Granted, being human, each situation for separation is unique, though I'd argue this as, for the most part, the song remains the same on most occasions. Allow me to say this though: You have to feel hurt when a loved one goes sideways on you, departs themselves from you, basically looks at you and says: I DON'T WANT YOU IN MY LIFE ANY FURTHER.  Been there, it sucked to some extent.

 

        Sorry for my ramblings, I do so go that way though, don't I?

 

        The 1st thru 3rd of July 2013 will be my greatest challenge to date with photography and writing ability. I cannot wait to walk and talk with strangers for their input around Gettysburg PA, USA as they view its sights and its things as it may take them elsewhere.

 

        I may be damned for my myriad of sins, but I am blessed as well. I this awesome!

 

        Mark William Darus, your brother, comrade, lover, writing, fly on the wall, and friend. You all rock in my mind!

 

 

Mark William Darus 06282013

Help Calgary: (no photos). People are going homeless in a peaceful place.

C'mon America! Dig into your pockets and help the Homeless evacuees of Calgary! Yeah, why should we do this? Well, how about the fact they sheltered and sent several Americans back to their families during the 1979 Iranian Hostage crisis. T...hat lasting 444 days for most of the hostages.

Another point: Have they ever threatened us in any way? Want another reason? Did any time in history did we ever ARM them against another and have it blast back on us? Sure, it would be the right and good thing to do. Damn, sorry for my ignorance: They are our friends already, so I guess we don't need to buy them in a crisis, right? We thanked them with increasing import taxes on pine products and cut their US tourism there with us needing passports. If you wish to help, and I urge you to do so, get info here: https://www.facebook.com/neighbourlinkcalgary

As You Exhale Freely…

                                      As You Exhale Freely…
                              Should I get a degree in Psychology?
                                      By Mark William Darus

           Imagine your words and thoughts like your escaping breath on chilly morning, taking cloudy forms, sometimes going into circles and other times into other shapes, like clouds. Yet, unlike clouds to most, carrying meaningful things you share with me as I see them.


              The sky above you goes from black to the West toward blues reaching lighter hues of orange to pinks finally splashing toward raging fiery reds to the East. Another days sun awakens as you speak to me both verbally and physically. Your tonal qualities greet my ears, your movements create pictures to my eyes as my mind mates them.

              I see what I see. I hear the things I do. I take the time to try to live in ‘your shoes’ as I process different than most of you. I believe that makes the difference with me. I’m not afraid to dive into the minds of others and toss things about. I have a strong enough sense of self that I fully know I will never lose myself again as I go toward others journeys of exploration.

              I don’t feel like most of you, but I sense things clearly, perhaps on an altered way of viewing. I know the difference between right and wrong. With myself, it is all black and white, though I understand with others this is not the case. I believe this is where I was given a gift at birth. That gift being: Seeing things from others views, taking their emotions in consideration while being honest with them and cold in that process.

             I don’t experience pain, but I know others do and it affects them profoundly. Be it the death of loved one, a coworker, and lifelong pet, I understand how people hurt when these things occur. Their lives take on a change with a passing of a close one, more often than not, going introspective. They view their time with them, how it was spent, and your god forbid: slaving endlessly over the last argument you had with them. Would you dwell on every wrong thing you said to them? Do you really wish to think of how you could have done things differently in your time with them?

                Sure, you could learn from these areas. But take that in perspective as days walk to weeks, stroll into months, and waste to years. There’s always something to learn in each moment of our lives. If you have an open mind, great.

           Most fail to look back on the happy times shared and the stupid laughter created from falling off barstools to getting seriously splashed by a car in the curb lane after a heavy rain as they walk down the street. A belch or fart at a wrong moment, heard by many. The blush after saying the word “shit” in front of others at an undesirable and corporately inappropriate moment during a speech. Saying something they found funny and watching them blow Pepsi out their nostrils as caught off guard. The best moments to look back on besides the secret connections you had with them. Gain strength in this: Yes, you miss them. Yes, right now you hurt. Right now, they are not hurting. And this is my personal favorite: If you believe in a here-after/otherness, you will be with them again. Granted, this time they’ll have the drinks waiting for you… J

            I am perceptive. I read things very well in regards to others as they talk and move about. I can tell a genuine smile from a faker at 50 to 100 feet away. (and yeah, I tested this at several venues for personal calibration: sporting events, bars, street corners and funeral homes. I simply walked up to the smiler’s and asked them a single question or said they were faking, after angling them aside: From their answers, and their stances changing, I gauged from that. Keep in mind, I’ve been doing this for decades.)

            The best part of this perceptive ability/gift is how it gives me an ability to be truthful to others without the politically correct bullshit that seems to run like a plague in the United States. Clearly, soundly and as subtle as a chainsaw performing an abortion, I do something different for others when they ask me questions about their life and how to get over or cope with certain areas they continuously suffer with/from.

           In the last nine months I have attempted to be a therapist for over 39 people across our climatically morphing blue marble. Chatted with when available, emailing firmly, phoning when workable. Granted, one augured in and killed themselves after I tried for them to seek help locally (Ukraine). People will die no matter how hard we try. Seriously, think about this: Every surgeon knows how to cut, remove, splice and save, yet survival does not always happen. That’s life, or perhaps better said, death? In that span of time, you’ve read, or maybe you haven’t, reader comments listed here.

       I try with little hope to find what makes us human, yet with each of you that send me your thoughts and desires I gain further ideas.

       I will go on.

          Should I get a worthless degree in Psychology or just keep doing as I do? There’s a time and a place to die and this ain’t it.

Mark William Darus 06262013

Blackmail: International Internet Psychopaths.

                   
                             Forgetting your instincts yet again.
                                         By Mark William Darus.

Hasn’t the internet made connecting with one another a few simple keystrokes away in virtual real time versus the old time newspaper personals with voice ads, and the cumbersome ways of simply saying ‘hello’ to a stranger to me them?

Haven’t we grown amazingly great in areas of connections with others?

Nowadays we can even do this a half planet away with our cell phones. A few told me ten years ago we’d be doing this, and I’d thought them off their rocker.

I wish I had believed them. Had I, I have little doubt I’d be rich from the stock market by now as it technology exploded toward a communication age a mere ten to fifteen years. At that point, Pagers lost their foothold to birth of cell phones.

These days, friends sit in restaurants together, yet not totally so as they all clutch smart phones in hands and blindly text others not in personal audience instead of appreciating a moment together physically with others within inches of them. I see this a great deal and am approaching a point I wish to verbally cut them in half with my tongue.

How far have we gone when reaching others?

Have we gone to areas reaching intimacy without face to face encounters?

How far has our trust in technology caused us to disregard our instincts?

How vulnerable are you as you give yourself to others so ignorantly?

Did you ever think you’d be blackmailed by trusted internet gathered others as you shared yourself with them?

　

Did they suck you into their trusting vortex to make you go naked with them online? Masturbation to climax, filming your gasps, desires and moans for more as they fueled this on with such things said as: “Oh baby! Squeeze your nipples, suck your tit, dig deeper into your cunt! You know I love you, baby!! <And that should be the catch-phrase: you know I love you, baby. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! YOU HAVE NEVER MET THEM FIRST HAND! Why should you trust them?

Apparently many do and fall victim to Western Union blackmail scams.

Granted these scams are based in the USA, as the men and women more at prey in other countries fall ‘innocent victims’ than those here in the USA with our own. Citizens of the USA are far more cynical yet oddly just as vulnerable and let allow themselves to be devoured in other ways.

Human desires without logic are based solely on emotion. Emotion makes for bad decisions.



How does this occur?

Look at your life and what you want to make happen in it.



Rule one: and I did state this over a year ago here: Predators will find you and your weaknesses and you should only trust as it is deserved and observed over time: weeks/months/years. Sorry to say this: Most emotional humans are weak and will dive toward any stranger when wanting a gap to fill in their life and thus make them vulnerable.

Rule two: listen to your closest friends and family. They have been with you a great span of time. You’ve known them decades of your life. You’ve shared with them your deepest and most coveted secrets. Yet you dismiss their words of warnings as you swim deeper into a pool without Life-rings to save you as you drown. Go ahead and let yourself drown. If they are good friends, they’ll take you back and aid in your recreation.

Rule Three: At least 4% of our population will use and eat the 96% of you as we see fit to reach our gains. How many times can I say this? I so hope you not only read the words on my blog and dig into to words/thoughts between the lines.

Humanity itself, as if through evolution, created something far variant than the difference between tadpoles and frogs, those like myself exist in your world. We appear physically like you. We can smile, laugh, mimic your frowns and sadness, yet your emotion touches nothing with us.

Yet, I can say this.

　

Ladies and gentleman: When growing in an internet relationship, and perhaps the desperate loneliness of your existence propels you to such doldrums, reconsider going naked and masterbating on a cam for someone you have never met.

.

If you have fallen to such schemes and blackmail, at least here in the USA, contact the USA CIA/FBI or Homeland Security or even the IRS for that matter as they always wish for gaining other cash flows.

Simplest way to prevent being blackmailed by American internet Blackmailers: A line said the movie The Lost Boys (about vampires). Never invite vampires into your house, silly boy! It renders you powerless!

Trust your instincts!

Mark William Darus 06222013

　

I would humbly like to thank Yvette (the Netherlands) for its inspiration. Thanks, Yvette.

Gettysburg PA, It 150th anniversary coming close.

                                           Walking into death: Gettysburg PA.
                                                 by Mark William Darus

                         Historical Note: The One hundredth fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg PA is coming up close.

 

                 I am so glad my shop will be closed this week to give me the opportunity to photograph this event.

 

                I plan on walking Pickets charge: a mile of open ground between them (the South and the North Cannons sights.) Imagine being in their shoes, each step you take getting you closer to the last step you will ever take on this Earth. And Knowing this!)

 

               Think of a different time in our countries life, where men would do such acts of gallantry and their wives and mothers dealt with their deaths and deformities seldom written by anyone.

 

                Talk about mass suicides like Guyana and Jimmy Jones, yet these men, most hardened fighters knew too well and General Longstreet did: It would be a long and slow walk to their deaths.

 

               Close your eyes for a moment and think of you and your loved ones if they met an event such as this head-on.

 

               America is such a young country in the history of the world. We don't learn from our mistakes very well, like some stubborn child. I think Gettysburg will happen again in our history as this really needs to occur to create a change for the better for all Americans lives.

 

 

    Mark William Darus 06152012

                                

Arabian Knights start: One thousand Reads in Six day.

Ember,

Not sure how this week unfolded, yet it did.

 

You told me approximately when I broke 20,000 hits this last weekend and I thank you and your gentle kiss on my cheek when this occurred. This, thru your enthusiastic tone gave me such a mental hard-on, yet only sleep would yield an appropriate orgasm of mental satisfaction.  

 

I am an idiot. I am pleased by my minds creations thru my thoughts and photos and how its greeted by the world.

 

You are an idiot for believing in me as I can offer you no safe harbor. No sense of stability profound, little sense of your belief in your dreams of a better life. I can only give you what I am and what I do at any given point. Curve balls, sliders and my worst trait: Honesty.

 

1001 Arabian Nights, though I only have about 200 nights stories to cast this direction, I yet think it kind of cool to have created them. I have a lot to write to hit 1001 entries. At the rate I currently write, I've got about 5 more years left. Given reader desires and self thoughts, I can do this and am driving toward this challenge.

 

Tell me: Where are all the thoughts shared not deserving of my thought and publishing on my blog? Many hundreds have sent me email with comments and stories. If there were but a hundred hours in a day...

 

I love to write the ugly and disgusting of humanity. I think eventually my photography will find a ghastly point of depression.  I love to write what I believe to be the truth. I photograph as I do, write about it giving me balance, equilibrium.  Sorry, sounds like bullshit to me...

 

I write and keep pushing. I don't give two shits what anyone thinks about me as I do what I do. I do this simply because I hear a calling different from others. I am guilty of sedition on our country and let them lock me up for it.

 

Seriously: When we cast off as the bible suggest about vanity, self absorbance, and pride, (and granted on this I have two out of three strikes against me)  people should do what they can for one another.

 

I'd like to think with my blog I have been the best man that I can. With its words and stories I have tried to teach others things of life, perhaps from an odd viewpoint, yet I have tried to reach out with the help of others to teach.

 

You should do the same in your life.

 

Ember: Everyone Else on Here: Search your heart: would this hurt you so much? Would you trust me so much to toss your ass into a world so far away from you, surrendering your control to the unknown  for a single night/day? Would you do this to find something else about yourself to give to others.

 

      Ember Have an idea for you, my cherished one. You'll hate it if I can make it happen. I'm such a prick. I cause pain in others with my honesty and hurt you.   So  tell me how the earth likes to the poundings of the rain to make plants and vegetables grow from it? Water torture sucks. Chinese water torture and so forth.

 

Ember: and others:  You so desperately think as you become scared, your stomach begins to plunge to your pit. THUD, as it hits bottom with you. Experiencing panic wishing to engulf you fully, running blindly. That this is the End of you. Surely, there is only so much a life can withstand before auguring in and diving down.

 

Yet, only a fraction of you go fully and mate their earthly beings with that of the pavement.

 

 

Learn from me. I have been without a great deal in the United States Of America.

 

 I have been beaten down so much in the last year and a half as you have seen. Lack of cash, tossing an arm toward plasma money,  living a winter without gas heat, eventually having my electricity shut off for the last one and half months of winter. The gas got shut off in November of 2012. HEAP told me I did not qualify even though when I applied there I was denied unemployment from the State Of Ohio and Progressive Insurance. Progressive, via the State of Ohio called me a thief. 

 

                     I have had help from others. I did not ask for this. I think it is from this that is the true description of a friend.

 

     I got a job from my youngest daughter to gain coin.

 

                Yet I, when able, still kept posting my thoughts.

 

            If I were capable of what you call love, I might look at you this way,

Mark,

Mark William Darus. 06072013