Cincinnatti, Ohio is known for being super supportive for the arts. Wood carving, sculpting, painting, the works. Lots of people flock to become known, and to know the bright and beautiful.
Having been there twice now, The Cincinnatti Art Museum is home to three stories of famous art pieces.
I. Love. Going there. I get so inspired by looking at the paintings and seeing peoples and culture from long ago, and not so long ago. The sculptures are always a thrill to look at. It’s unbelievable how one person can perfectly mirror a real person out of rock.
So this will be a short post, because it’s going to contain some poor images from my phone’s camera. I hope you enjoy them!
As a short notice I want to say these are the ones I found inspiring for me, so they may not have an effect on you. I highly encourage you to go look through their halls if you can afford the trip. And if you’re in the area and haven’t gone… What’s wrong with you?
If you’ve been looking at my Instagram, I managed to drop a butt-load of photos of people in familiar looking outfits similar to TV shows, Video Games, and Comic Books. What’s the reason for this phenomenon?
The annual Lexington Comic and Toy Convention for Kentucky rolled around, and I was there, accompanied by my ever-cosplay-loving wife. This is my excuse for why my blog was silent for a couple of weeks. That and I have attained work! You are reading the words of the newest member of Pepsi!
With all of that out of the way, let’s go!
This year I wanted to do something special; spotlighting. There were a myriad of things to see; such is the nature of a convention. Comic books for sale, reasonably priced. Plushy toys, video games from the bygone era, special appearances of actors -on camera and of unique voice-, and independent artists from the area.
Naturally, I thought, “Hey, I’m a blogger, I should… do writer things!” ha ha ha, and I set out to ask some questions, to bring you, the reader, some of the rich ore the Kentucky art vein has to offer.
May I introduce, Ronald R. Van Stockum, Jr.
I had a wonderful chat with Mr. Stockum. He told me about his book, Xortal, a fantastic idea that compelled me to know more.
Afterwards I asked Mr. Stockum some questions:
“What is your favorite movie?” 7th Seal
“Where do you get your inspiration from?” It just happens. Your imagination compels to make you write.
“How long have you been writing?” For over 40 years.
“How did you get your start?” I was a Sentinel news article writer.
“What drives you to write?” I cannot not do it.
That last one had me thinking, so much so, I almost forgot to be professional and finish the conversation. I wasn’t thinking it was profound; there are many people who live on the right side of the brain. Some live so far right, they have no idea of left. And those people interest me, they live for art, breathe art, and stay in below human conditions while pursuing the genius behind the craft. And with that way of living, they sometimes say things like, “I cannot not write,” like they’re possessed. And that’s sort of how Mr. Stockum came across. And I must admit, I labelled him as such, a total right brained, seeking the art to the point of insanity. I don’t mean that as a bad thing either.
I began writing this article. I turned in my homework, gathered my materials, and reached for some websites to gain some finer details, when all of a sudden a hidden cache of information appeared. I forgot to add the ‘Jr’ to his title, and found a highly decorated military soldier with the same name. Naturally, I was wrong, but with the date of the man’s birth, and his career, something interesting was forming. Even further on, when I was looking for the right man, I was finding a completely different side to… Dr. Van Stockum.
Dr. Stockum has three degrees in biology, one degree in law, and is a practiced attorney (or former).
A man teetering on the edge of a sane mind, AND heavily practiced researcher of science and law? It became apparent that I was looking at an “Ambidextrous Mind”
I am using that title from an article he gave me to look at. With all the pieces together, I see now his love for science and fiction come to life. His series, “Markman’s” takes place in an apocalyptic Kentucky. He gave me a gander at the map for the story…
And now you have a gander!
It goes without saying he was a very talented writer, with much experience in art and logic to provide a unique storytelling few can offer. If you’re looking for some apocalypse writing, and need to know what it’s like to read from a local Kentucky artist, then I urge you to try this. I certainly am, and I can’t wait to get my copy.
I’m not a big poet guy, but every once in a while I get these urges and feelings, and only poetry can do it justice. This I understand.
So for viewing pleasure I’m exposing myself for a bit to give my audience a piece of junk. It’s been written, and edited and peer reviewed. Obviously, it’s far from great, but I like it. I feel like it captures me.
There is a secret appointment tonight, Between a boy and the moon. Unbeknownst to others, He runs away from home at the splash of darkness. The seasons may determine how much they meet. Bravery doth it take to challenge the nights of winters bite; in the Summers warmth, the heart takes ease. What is the purpose of this meeting? So the moon can bestow the muse of art. There, in it’s rays, the boy, open arms, Shouts hidden verses: “Come beauty! Come magic! Come lost song!” Visions of astral houses are revealed. Walls of shimmering energy, Roofs of dragon scales. Roads of cloud, beings of light. The splendor of cosmic powers unveil Themselves. Those light beings, raising their hands, jump from place to place. Some of them hold hands together, Holes of strange dimensions surround them. With a wave, stars sail across the sky, carrying their commanding hosts, With clenched fist the ocean of dark carries the vessels closer to heaven. Oh, the desire! He stretches out his hands to grab hold And climb the sky between he and his destination. The moon says “not yet.”
***Okay, that’s my stuff. What do you think about it? I’m happy to hear your slander, comments, critiques. I can always use the refinement.***
Every once in a while the planets align, a blue moon rises, gas goes on sale for no reason, and you win that one giveaway you were sure to not win.
And that’s when the purest of shenanigans grace the world.
Chengdu, China! A typical ceremony, one that was sure to be yet another humdrum of a time for the Municipal Bureau of Planning and Natural Resources. Don’t know what that is? Take watching grass grow, add some paint drying segments, followed by an intimate match of old people playing Dark Souls, and that’s almost the excitement level of that branch of government.
So lucky them, to receive this honorary moment! Surely, they are being smiled upon. They probably needed it! The ceremony is so boring I can’t find any information on it. Not that many people are going to report on this kind of news anyway; I’m limited.
A long while back, during the novel’s development, I thought my pirate should have some songs to sing. I got to work, struggling through the amateur challenges of song writing, and a piece of slop came out. I put it up on other sites, but for some reason never thought about letting this blog and its followers experience the process of my terrible writing skill.
Well, here goes.
Verse 1: A pirate, so stout, Big as five barrels of ale. Stole the pants off from folk, So he covered his tail!
He never could find, a pant that would fit. but he never stopped taking, no he never could quit.
Chorus: The pants thief they called him, The pants thief they cried! The pants thief will take All your trousers and pride!
Verse 2: He stole from the men He stole from the lass. He stole from the king But he had too much mass.
Bridge: It was a quest for the pants he could wear It was a journey he had to take bare!
And at last he came, *pause* ‘cross a giant the same, *pause* size as his waist *pause*
And he almost acquired The massive attire but he fell to a sharp blade And cooked o’er a fire
Chorus: The pants thief they called him, No pants ne’er he wore! Smelled delicious and sav’ry as a great roasted boar.
“Primo Shenanigan, why are you posting a picture of a beached whale?”
…you might be asking. If you’re not caught up on bizarre, wacky news, this was widely reported a couple days ago. But I’m here to let you in on the things you’re missing.
Brazil, that one country that appeared in the Mr. Magoo movie, found a beached whale. Scientists are dumbfounded. Why would they be, though?
Well maybe it’s because the whale showed up 50 feet away from shore? Also, it’s a humpback whale, which are rarely, rarely, RARELY seen so far north.
It’s also dead, but they concluded that it died at sea. So it didn’t suffer so harshly when thrown out of the water. The poor thing was young; measured between 26-36 feet. The saddest thing is a bulldozer can’t get into the swamp surrounding the corpse to take it out.
But how did it get there? Did the tides truly get so great as to throw a hefty baby whale so far from shore?
Okay, my turn! I just finished looking at Florida, and now from the East coast to the West coast, we see another moment of pure Chronic Shenanigan Sickness. This car becomes the walking billboard for illegal parking consequences. The person owning the car will look to be facing fees and citations.
Sucks to be that person! I can only imagine how this could be: You’re coming over to a friends house for an important visit… Or you live there, and some newcomer comes into town for your neighbor, and you think, “what could be the harm for one night?’
On the other hand, can you imagine being a new firefighter on that day? Chief: “Get this hose to the fire hydrant!” You: “Sir, there’s a car in front of it!” *Chief looks at car* “Smash the windows.” You: “You want me to what!?” Chief: We don’t have time to discuss this; he’s parking illegal, we need water, smash ’em up!” You: “Yessir, you’re the boss!”
This is the second post in a row I’ve just noticed where a car was a major part of the news. Both results ended in getting into them. Wow, the world is so small. And yet… the shenanigans brings us all together.
Author: The Timbre of Sand, Still Dandelions, A Ranch Bordering the Salty River. Alum: Palomar College, Columbia University, Bennington College. Follow on twitter @SmpageSteve on Instagram @smpagemoria on Facebook @steven.page.1481