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BREYEN

Don't Mind Me, Just Parroting Some Timeworn Axiom To Appease Your Fucking Sloth.

About Me



About me:
read my blog(HERE).

INTERMISSION

My Interests

I'd like to meet:


.view more pics.

A ZEN STORY by Camden Benares, The Count of Five, Headmaster, Camp Meeker CabalA serious young man found the conflicts of mid 20th Century America confusing. He went to many people seeking a way of resolving within himself the discords that troubled him, but he remained troubled. One night in a coffee house, a self-ordained Zen Master said to him, "go to the dilapidated mansion you will find at this address which I have written down for you. Do not speak to those who live there; you must remain silent until the moon rises tomorrow night. Go to the large room on the right of the main hallway, sit in the lotus position on top of the rubble in the northeast corner, face the corner, and meditate." He did just as the Zen Master instructed. His meditation was frequently interrupted by worries. He worried whether or not the rest of the plumbing fixtures would fall from the second floor bathroom to join the pipes and other trash he was sitting on. He worried how would he know when the moon rose on the next night. He worried about what the people who walked through the room said about him.His worrying and meditation were disturbed when, as if in a test of his faith, ordure fell from the second floor onto him. At that time two people walked into the room. The first asked the second who the man sitting there was. The second replied "Some say he is a holy man. Others say he is a shithead."Hearing this, the man was enlightened.
EVERYBODY'S GOT PERSONAL HEROS. PHOTOGRAPHERS, PORNSTARS, AND NE'ERDOWELLS ARE MINE.

ARTIST'S STATEMENT: A ThoughtDo you really put that much faith into simple glances, or is it just a habit? [faith and simple glances-they are near equals]It's true, that art gets people to pay attention-lures them in so to speak-but in some instances they are often disappointed that the artist is not the Great and Powerful Oz he may boast him/herself into being- i would offer this in response to such an out cry of disappointment: "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"I'm grateful my art allows a connection between us to arise, but doesn't it make sense now, that a connection has been established, that we not continually refer to the initial interest as the only topic of mutual involvement in our progression through this life, our relating to it, and each other? [i don't know, maybe that's contrived. We're still talking about it or still making art in one form or another.]ha! =)I'm also grateful for all the people i've met because of my work-even if we are essentially opposites in our interests-i think an homogenous social base would be unbearably lame. You see, i'm interested in information, but that isn't why i want to know you. i understand that i can't "know" you without your interests, and vice versa; but i also understand it would be ignorant to assume you were nothing more than a collection of interests. Just as it would be folly to assume i was merely the work that i produce. They are only projections of a deeper truth about existence [that truth you will have to investigate on your own], as anyone's work is only an example of who they are, not the total sum.Maybe you'll enjoy the fleeting dreams that i capture and project back to your eyes, and know that you see a glimpse into my soul, or maybe your own. i offer it freely, but do not get caught in your own illusions about me, or yourself for that matter, we all wake up eventually.Everyone you meet is a mirror of yourself. Those qualities they posess that you like or dislike are the same qualities you like or dislike within yourself.Can you separate the art from the artist? Can you separate the dream from the dreamer? Can you separate the love from the beloved?i don't know.

but it might be worth it to find out. .


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My Blog

Simon Says

Simon sat at the table with mehe said nothinghe refused to eatrefused to sleepwould've refused to breathe if it were up to himhe sat across from mea cross given to signal coming lightilluminating the ...
Posted by BREYEN on Mon, 14 Jul 2008 12:09:00 PST

Mother Tongue

1Spoon fed on Sigmund Freud's toxic shockOedipus animus muscled through doorways Breaking my knuckles in the door jamsPensive tensions ring inevitable alarmsFather, Fenrisulfr grows larger by the day ...
Posted by BREYEN on Sun, 13 Jul 2008 02:32:00 PST

constance marie

we hold the lumps in our throatslike nervous childrenteachers bending neck less headsmagnetic coronas infrared zodiacal surfacesrapture shrapnel propellantsdirected toward eyelidsgesture momentarily b...
Posted by BREYEN on Mon, 07 Jul 2008 04:36:00 PST

the flavor of irony

HAPPY 4th of JULY...
Posted by BREYEN on Fri, 04 Jul 2008 03:20:00 PST

*__*

...
Posted by BREYEN on Mon, 16 Jun 2008 01:55:00 PST

Let er to Mr Seve obs

iDontcare
Posted by BREYEN on Mon, 16 Jun 2008 11:36:00 PST

...and a little less pride

the horizon whispers a sense of determination to a lot of people. The generational aspect involves a sense of artistic renaissance - something is a foot. There is, i think a massive wake, much like wa...
Posted by BREYEN on Mon, 16 Jun 2008 06:53:00 PST

Wax Wing

I - The OtherLike the voice of a Fatheri say to my Self They're just feelingsThey come and goThey changeThey build up like storms without warningThey encircle dreams And i find it hard to ignore them ...
Posted by BREYEN on Mon, 09 Jun 2008 02:00:00 PST

I NEED TO SAY THANK YOU

to the models who have indulged my silly ideas and inspired me the most to not stop painting in a cave.Thank you:Alex Ruano, CAAmanda Loy, ILAndrew Krueger, ILDylan Oliver, WIEmily Hahn, IL Eric Murle...
Posted by BREYEN on Sat, 31 May 2008 12:36:00 PST

liquidus contrition

everything i lovedlike waking up pulling a nerve ending from my spinal column and bending it up toward the windowan antenna to get better reception for a broadcast i remember as a childa show i rememb...
Posted by BREYEN on Fri, 16 May 2008 01:59:00 PST