I wanted to do a few things today. For one inform the general public that I plan on posting art here more often starting later this week in fact. With this I will now go on to my second matter of business witch is babble on about anything I care to. I think this time I will simply pour out some of this gook in my head....






Don't explain the unknown its more beautiful that way. I had a dream two children walking as they chatter but talk like old men going on about the greatest of philosophical matters. One brother values money above all else wealth is power to this young mind. The other disagrees however he believes in ammunition as these two boys travel by foot threw the china of old no one pays them heed. They are part of every story there ever was but never involved they drift threw others like smoke always to deeply immersed in there own discussions to even notice the things that occur around them. Because of there pure lack of notice to the entire world the world gives them the same treatment. Without even noticing they become like gods or spirits heedless of all the worlds suffering but engrossed in a never ending discussion on the very people the talk about. They are known as the brother of wealth and the brother of the gun seen every day but unapproachable not that they don't talk to people simply when they do the person never thinks of asking any questions even if they know who they are. The story of a thief girl who becomes empress she pushes past the brothers while running from the royal guards. Like this they touch the storys of every age but are never quite in them. One day they boys are starving this is before they had become immortal a rice maker on the street hands a spoon of rice to the brother of wealth. The brother turns and asks his sibling why he would need anything other than the rice he has in his hand. The brother of the gun responds that force would be needed to defend the rice and demonstrates by snatching the rice away. The brother of wealth snatches it back haughtily saying that it wouldn't exist to begin with if not for the wealthy driving the peasants to grow it. the brother of the gun laughs and with a toss of a hand knocks the rice from the brother of wealth's hand to the ground strength decides who eats the rice. The two brothers walk slowly away the rice scatted and forgotten and heads pressed close the argue the world amongst each other. the world splits apart and regrows the man old and withered jump into the corner of the room and is where he was not before another corner far away across reality. The corner man a yellow sky at a glimpse clouds of and always the smile big and friendly small and sneaky wide and dangerous short and vivid ten billion stars of bright the feeling of your heart the sounds unknown the seen true beauty something only we preceve humans nothing more great fast slow small long sad and there always proof. A small hat and a burst of electricity.