I never considered myself an artist until recent years. Then suddenly it was Epiphany time,everything I do is art. Coarsely blended with equal parts public therapist, and public nuisance, a pinch of salt, a half cup of drugs, a dog that is convinced he talks through me like a.......... Epiphany time again! His name shan't be spoken. Equipped with "Marlon Brandolin" a broken record of songs that no one knows playing inside. I'm a messenger, agent of chaos, public servant dealing in urban survival/ random actions of kindness/ and instructor for late night "your not alone out here" introduction to a life on the fringes of human perception of reality.

Did you know that a healthy bit of the population actually believe that everyone is/can/will/do ,go to sleep every single night?

We are on the brink of greatness or possibly the brink of accidental enslavement by the self inflicted, alien invasion of artificial intelligence.

P.t. Barnum, was my great,, great, great, great,uncle. Apples don't have wings and as long as gravity keeps everyone under the impression that it is not going anywhere, I have no choice but to rot under the same strange tree.... I'm going to just blame Newton and his "laws" mostly because he's not here to to defend his Theory.

I'm all ears,. What are your thoughts?