Today, I present to you, three of my greatest hits. ^{Two short stories and one of my most popular works of art; all from my past.}

I've Been Around Awhile

^{Some of you weren't around to see these.}

I'll just jump right in.

Short Story #1_{Originally published on 12/11/2017.}

The Voices: When to Start Paying Attention

_{Seeking that moment of silence within the mind muscle made of meat.}

You Can't Hear Them^{If You Don't Listen}

 
How in the hell was I supposed to know?

     I hear mine all the time and know for a fact you're hearing yours right now at this very moment.  As I write this, I'm hearing it.  It seems to know what I'll write before I even write it.  How can this be?

     Sometimes I have to wait for it.  It's like my master presses the pause button to go make popcorn.  I sit, idle.  The vehicle is running, but no one is inside.  Nothing comes out of this mind and onto this screen made up of thousands of tiny, magic, flashing light beams from outer space, without hearing this strange voice first.

I Think It's Me

^{...but how can I ever be sure?}

     It's just chemicals and juices swirling around in meat.

     Some parts can go rancid.  We've all seen it happen.  So fragile.  Be careful.  Add a molecule or two, or maybe take one away for a few seconds.  Everything including the outlook on life changes.

     What would life be like if every time we stubbed a toe or sliced a finger, we started trippin' balls?  Hallucinations entering the eyes and ears and coming from every direction for hours, or until the bleeding stops.  A cabinet maker overdoses after getting a sliver on the job.  All he did was hurt his meat.

^{That's the third one this week!}

     Even without the help of a drug, your entire world can change the moment that voice goes away, or turns into someone else.  Too many natural illnesses out there to list now though.

One Day You're You

^{...the next, you're not.  Done.}

     If it's self inflicted, we have an advantage.  We saw it go in.  We wanted to meet that odd walking mind traveler from mushroom mountain.  If it's natural and sneaking in through the back door, we won't even notice how our little voice has a new accent and prefers to smoke with the left hand instead of the right.  It just moves right in and steals your part of the couch without asking first.  How rude.

---

Crazy Isn't So Bad Though

^{I certainly learned my lesson.}

     I was sitting down for a coffee the other day when I noticed my voice telling me to do some nasty stuff.

     At first I just thought it was my imagination running wild.  I have an entire herd of buffalo up there in brainland all stampeding around and eating the grass.  Tough to keep them inline and out of trouble.

“...should probably just kill that guy over there.”

     I heard me say that, then I paused.  I wasn't sure if I actually said it with my inside voice, or my outside voice.  I looked around the coffee shop.  Nobody was looking at me as if I were a crazy person as of yet.  Then I heard it again.

     I'm not a murderer.  I'll defend myself, even if that means throwing the first punch, but murder?  Since when?  And for what?

Only a crazy person would just stand up and kill someone for no reason.

     That's how I've thought for my entire life.  So what the hell is going on?  I sip my coffee.  The guy looks at me.  A brief lock of the eyes.  At that moment, I realized I had been staring at the man throughout this entire thought process.  I may have been focused on his chin though because of this massive, hairy brown spot that lived there.  Of course, him seeing me glaring at that mark probably wouldn't make things any better between the two of us.

     I thought it was over.  Was thinking about finishing up and taking off anyway.

“...watch him.  He's dangerous.  He'll get you if you don't get him first.”

     My voice won't shut up at this point.  One demented thought after another....

“...kill him.”

“...he's not actually reading that newspaper.”

“...get rid of him.  Don't just leave.  Take care of him.  Save these people.”

“...Swing swing swing!  Chop chop chop!”

“...can I get a double McMurder and a Coke to go?”

“...will somebody please take my order!”

“...Mahna Mahna
Do doo be-do-do
Mahna Mahna
Do do-do do
Mahna Mahna
Do doo de-do-do de-do-do de-do-do de-d.”

“...Chopper.  Sick balls!”

“...Uh-oh!  Here he comes!  Made you look!  Ha!”

“...Gimme a K!
K!
...Gimme an I!
I!
...Gimme an L!
L!
...Gimme another L!”

^{This is the part where I finally snap.}

One Public Meltdown

^{Coming up!}

     Clearly, I was losing my mind and the control was soon to follow.  I got up from my chair with the force of three G's, knocked the table with my knee which in turn sent the rest of my coffee and a few bagel chunks flying through the air, all while firing out with the full extent of my final breath...

L!

     It was too late.  Three shots already rang out.  Two hit me, I was fading fast and all I could think about was how I was the guy who got shot and yelled, “L,” instead of something normal like, “No” in slow motion.

     I'm a statistic now, I suppose.  Number one of eleven that day.  Twelve if you include the coward.  Add me to the pile and sweep it under the rug like the rest.

So What Happened Next?

 
     I rode the elevator all the way to the top floor, if you know what I mean.  What were my options?  Listen to the voices?  Make the news as the most recent nutcase who up and kills someone for no reason other than, "The voices told me to..."?

Yeah.  I'm sure they'd throw me a parade for that one.

     The thing is, I wasn't going crazy on my final day.  That wasn't a demon taking residence inside my brain.  It was my hunter.  My intuition.  My human nature.  That's why the buffalo got spooked.  I was trying to tell me something, but forgot how to read the signs.

     In the days of fast food at the local wifi hotspot, who has time to listen to their obsolete, stone wielding, old fashioned self?

     Not me, not the other eleven.  The manager was nowhere in sight.  Employees were focused on their tasks.  Everyone inside their own little bubbles.  Car after car whipping by.  Nobody stopped that day.

     The road is paved now.  You can walk it barefoot.  There's no need to pay attention to anything.  Life will do it for you.  Fully automatic.  Just keep waiting for it to happen.

Anyway

     This place never sleeps.  I think I'll head out there, do some mingling.  There are so many interesting people here.  I'll introduce you all someday, but until then...

TTFN^{Ta Ta For Now}

Short Story #2_{Originally published on 7/9/2017.}

No Choice: She Had to Die

I guess that makes it official. This is my first day waking up as a murderer.

A Confession

 
Yesterday evening was nice.

     No wind, so calm.  I sat outside, alone, working on my art for the next big show.  Not a care in the world.

     The moon appeared to be full.  Just hanging out in the sky, alone.  So quiet, peaceful.  If there's a heaven, that was it, floating by.  I thought about going there, someday.

Then She Came to Join Me

^{I wasn't bothered at first, but this quickly turned into an interruption.}

     I'm not sure if she knew, but I needed to stay focused.  I have a lot on my plate.  So much to do and a twenty-four hour day isn't long enough.  I tried to tell her with my body language, now isn't a good time.  She didn't pick up on it.

I hate it when I lose my cool.

     She knew I was busy, she had to know.  There's no way she couldn't know.

     I should have turned the computer off.  It's strange.  She knows I'm working, but every time I turn it on and especially at night, she's suddenly drawn to me.  Just hangs out.  It's fine when she's there, busy, doing her thing, keeping quiet, keeping her distance, leaving me be.

     I guess she didn't like my attitude last night.  I didn't feel like dealing with drama and I was far too busy.  I just got up, left without a word, went inside the house, settled in at the desk.

Finally

     I could think again.  Must stay focused at all times.  Have to remain in the zone or the results end up being sloppy.  Started to have fun again, but it didn't last.

     I had about thirty minutes.  One half of an hour.  I just don't get it.  I thought the message was clear. I'm busy.  I need to finish this.  Stop bothering me.

     I have bills to pay.  Don't start giving me shit because I'm spending time doing the things I do so I'm able to pay the bills.

I Now Put a Roof Over Your Head

     A shared space.  Respect goes a long way.  You wanted my attention now you have my attention.  Why are you bothering me here, now.  I need to get this done.  First you're in my ear outside, breaking the silence, now you're here in my ear and getting all up in my face!  What is the point of all this?

     My thoughts raced like that, but I said nothing.  I didn't want to fight, but now she seemed like she was out for blood.  No point in arguing.  How do you even argue with that?  They can't seem to understand anything and win by default, every time.

     Again, I walked away.  This time, to give up on my entire day.

Time to Go to Sleep

     I nicely got comfortable.  Started to relax.  Time to unwind.  Time to lose touch with this reality and wander into the next, for a few hours.

     Probably for the best.  Sleep early, wake up early, finish when it's quiet again.  Nothing wrong with that.

She then entered the room.

     I probably slept for ten minutes, if that.  She didn't make any effort to be quiet, no.  She got right back up in my face and in my ear.  Flying around the room, having a mental fit.  Poking at me, screaming at me!

Finally I had enough!

Open hand slaps!

As hard as I could!

Repeatedly!

Until she was...

dead.
 
 
 

I Hate Mosquitoes!

Next up: Classic art post with commentary._{Originally published on 6/4/2017. This post magically hit the trending page, organically.(I remember being really happy that day, after everything was said and done.)}

It's A Bird Within the Mind of a Thinker Flying By

@NoNamesLeftToUse The Writer/Artist Himself has produced another masterpiece of simplicity.

I Wish I Could Fly

Intentionally Vague Description:
     To some, the image looks like nothing but black, white and a few shades in between.  Others will see the side profile of a face looking to the left, and nothing more.  Those who can see within will find a black bird flying towards what the face sees.

     Something like that.  You can decide why this all occurred, on your own.

---

Sundays

^{A Little Bit About Me}

     My dedication to this platform and my art is what brings me here today.  I should probably start taking weekends off though.  Summer is important to most Canadians.  I literally froze for six months.  It's hot out today and I love the outdoors.  That's where I should be.

     I'm not your typical artist.  I'm far away from the big city pompous prick artist stereotype.

     Not much of a nerd either.  Sure, I'm addicted to PC's and even play a few video games, but that's as far as that goes.

     I played hockey when I was kid, but I was never a jock.  I listened to punk and rap music, but I was never a punk or gangsta.

     I never cared about these costumes, never needed a uniform to fit in.  Can't understand why so many think a mask and how you wear pants proves what we are on the inside.  Even those who think they're unique seem to look like all of those other ones who think the same way.

     I used to consider myself to be a free thinker, until I noticed an entire group of those, all thinking the same way.

     My world is strange and I try not to think about it much.  I have better things to do than waste my time trying to solve puzzles not meant to have solutions.  Things are there, they exist, good enough.  I can't write about solving the world's problems.  I don't wear those clothes either.  It's all talk and no action anyway.

     Up there, I made a wish.  It's time to hop on the Honda, find a nice steep incline, hit it at speed, and turn that wish into a reality.

_{That's enough rambling.}Have a good day.^{Enjoy the art.}

And now it's today...

It's hard to believe...

^{This is my 665th published post.}

     So much blood, sweat; and even though I'm a grown-ass man, I'll admit to a few tears.

     That's what went into this blog.  There's so much there that even I can't remember it all.  I can go back, read, and leave wondering, who wrote that? Me? How? When?

     I'm regretting not going to the big party known as Steemfest.  I probably could have pulled it off but instead I decided to shoot for next year.  It would have been nice to meet some of you folks.  I'm sure some out there are curious to see who and what I'm all about.  I could have sat and drank by myself, too.  Even that would have been cool, I guess, because I haven't done that in Europe before.

Anyway

I have some new art for you look at today as well:

^{Wrapped Up In Fear}

Have a nice day.

Credits:All art and images seen here were produced digitally, by me.
^{"Hopefully there is a next year."}

^{© 2018 @NoNamesLeftToUse.  All rights reserved.}