I like linebackers. I collect ’em. You can’t have too many good ones.
-Bill Parcells
-Bill Parcells
Friday, March 30, 2007
Resplendent tragedy…
I don’t deserve any credit for turning the other cheek as my tongue is always in it.
-Flannery O’Connor
-Flannery O’Connor
Tin Roof… Rusted!
Most people are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand.
- Mark Twain
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Real Dark Side of the Moon...
Once lead this people into war and they will forget there ever was such a thing as tolerance.
-Woodrow Wilson
I have measured out my
life with coffee spoons ...
I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a God-damn cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you are dead? Nobody.
- J.D. Salinger
- J.D. Salinger
A Note from Joe, and Questions
They number 14, in all. Fourteen spiral bound notebooks, full of pictures and drawings, marked simply in Magic Marker on the front: BOB'S WORLD.
Welcome to Bob's World. I am not its creator, only its facilitator, who met this odd human in a coffee shop five years ago last February.
So far, this uncomfortable man has felt comfortable only to post three drawings on this blog. Three drawings from the perhaps 1400 pages that comprise the Bob's World diaries.
Will Bob open up and let us in? Will he let us see the rest? Will he post more pictures?
Why is he driven to draw, to empty his soul onto 1400 spiral bound notebook pages, as he sips his coffee so deliberately, and chases away the curious?
Welcome to Bob's World. I am not its creator, only its facilitator, who met this odd human in a coffee shop five years ago last February.
So far, this uncomfortable man has felt comfortable only to post three drawings on this blog. Three drawings from the perhaps 1400 pages that comprise the Bob's World diaries.
Will Bob open up and let us in? Will he let us see the rest? Will he post more pictures?
Why is he driven to draw, to empty his soul onto 1400 spiral bound notebook pages, as he sips his coffee so deliberately, and chases away the curious?
Monday, March 26, 2007
Welcome to the working weak
The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk ... they are sober.
- William Butler Yeats
Joe Discovers Genius
It must have been five years ago when we met. He was bearded and was
mumbling something to himself. He had been drinking the same cup of
coffee for what I could only imagine had been hours. Before him sat a
pile of neatly stacked spiral bound notebooks. On the cover of each,
written in Magic Marker, were the simple words: "Bob's World."
But what was inside?
I tried to get a glimpse, but it was hard. The man, whose name I would later learn was indeed Bob, was scribbling something, but what? His free hand covered the frantic hand that was scribbling and drawing ... something.
I finished my coffee. But I waited there. I had to find out what was in
the notebooks! What mysteries did they reveal? What insight or glimpse
would they give me into this strange man's soul?
Coffee shops all around the world are full of people like Bob, who sit drinking the
same cup of coffee for hours on end, mumbling to themselves, throwing an occasional odd glance at a fellow customer, a glance that sometimes would send a smile, and sometimes (more often than not) a chill.
For now, this is all I will say about Bob, and Bob's world, and how we came
to meet. In the coming weeks, you the reader will be getting a glimpse
of just what his odd man was scribbling in those notebooks.
I only ask you one favor: Please do not ever ask me what his drawings mean. I ask this in part (and mostly because) I truly fear the answer.
mumbling something to himself. He had been drinking the same cup of
coffee for what I could only imagine had been hours. Before him sat a
pile of neatly stacked spiral bound notebooks. On the cover of each,
written in Magic Marker, were the simple words: "Bob's World."
But what was inside?
I tried to get a glimpse, but it was hard. The man, whose name I would later learn was indeed Bob, was scribbling something, but what? His free hand covered the frantic hand that was scribbling and drawing ... something.
I finished my coffee. But I waited there. I had to find out what was in
the notebooks! What mysteries did they reveal? What insight or glimpse
would they give me into this strange man's soul?
Coffee shops all around the world are full of people like Bob, who sit drinking the
same cup of coffee for hours on end, mumbling to themselves, throwing an occasional odd glance at a fellow customer, a glance that sometimes would send a smile, and sometimes (more often than not) a chill.
For now, this is all I will say about Bob, and Bob's world, and how we came
to meet. In the coming weeks, you the reader will be getting a glimpse
of just what his odd man was scribbling in those notebooks.
I only ask you one favor: Please do not ever ask me what his drawings mean. I ask this in part (and mostly because) I truly fear the answer.