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Usually the first robin of spring shows up in our ash tree sometime in March.  Today we were astonished to see a huge flock of red breasts resting after their long migration.  Approximately 20 or 30 robins were consuming the bright red ash berries and leaving ruddy poops on the patio.  Is this natural or another illustration of global warming?

Speaking of, yesterday on Facebook, I tried to share a friend’s photo of a banner proclaiming

However, Facebook would not allow me to share the image unless it was on my own wall.  Such censorship truly disturbs my faith in social media, NOT!  I must admit, I am probably as addicted to Facebook as anyone else, although I do not share my physical and mental ailments, my familial discords or triumphs or even my political views (other than general nausea) with my FB friends, whether close or mere acquaintances.  The distinction of nearness or shadow friends is requested by Facebook, but I always ignore the plea.  The majority of people or pages liked or befriended are merely cyberworld contacts, bands or artists, writers or philosophers.  How do you measure closeness on the web?

What seems to draw me to certain people or their blogs is what they say or the images they post.  Very few display true self portraits in their albums.  Many collect iconic photos of celebrities and infamous serial killers which they use for their profile pictures.  The ability to hide behind someone’s mugshot is a benefit available to anyone who so chooses.  I show my own face, but it is not labeled with my true name.  Names have always been considered powerful and magical secrets, a greater truth now in the era of identity theft and character assassination.   Profile information has been hijacked in the past, and Facebook users should always be alert to phishing and ill considered clicking.

Robins should be wary of unseasonal southern breezes.  They’ve arrived in the Idaho panhandle too early this year, and I hope they know what they are doing.

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It’s raining on my snow covered yard, and the glug of the gutters  is a pleasant soundtrack as I attempt to navigate through nonsense.   There are places I have found where I cannot enter, comments I could add, if I but knew who I am.

Granted, I am a neophyte blogger.  True, I’ve only posted one entry before, but I have successfully added my thoughts to other people’s journals here in WordPress land.  Today I remain unrecognized with every attempt to log in and comment.  Is it because I foolishly added a “Gravitar” to my WordPress profile?

Perhaps the reason is more sinister.  The blog I wanted to access is another collection of conspiracy theorists, specifically L.O.W.F.I. or the League Of Western Fortean Intermediasts.  There is even a place for my thinly populated state, the Great State of Idaho, although no one has contributed any anecdotal weirdness that I can see.

So why do I keep getting the message that I am invalid?  I’ve changed my password twice, verified my user name on my “dashboard”, all to no avail.  Will I be forced to abandon my attempt to blog?  Was the blank  journal book my friend Calleen sent me yesterday an omen?  Is paper my only means left?

Let’s try and publish this, and we’ll see.   This is your 3rd published post. Dope!  That last sentence was a copy and paste from WordPress.  It just called me a DOPE.  Believe.

Grim Realities of Progress

After spending some time and effort typing my first Quick Post and being told to be sure I’d filled in all the required content (guess I hadn’t), I really don’t know if I can regurgitate that train of thought.  There was mention of art, Atari 1040st computers from the mid 1980s, pigment and paper.  My digital art was done back in the day on a program called Spectrum 512 and saved on slides taken with my Minolta XG7.

The only constant in my artistic output has been paint, pencils and paper.  The Atari is in a landfill somewhere and was not replaced until 2003 by a Dell desktop PC, which now languishes in the basement.  It now has two siblings, a laptop and a notebook.  Computer art is now done rarely but elegantly using Twisted Brush by Pixara, a powerful program that has been improved and expanded so much I get lost when I fire it up.  I’m still haven’t mastered layers.

Perhaps this blog will inspire me to share some of my art, now shoved in the closet and under the bed.  Hope so.

 

 

trying to master layers

Somewhere in time we were living.  Remember us then.

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