I made this picture my with common means. I love it, and wanted to share it. It's shaped for the iPhone 5.

It won't be too much longer! The production run for the promotion EP, Campaign One;, will soon be underway! Here a little peek at the album art!

It's all intangible. The things we think we know about the past Things that we think we know are going I in other countries What you know of politics What you know about faith or religion

We take these things in to the core of our being. They are processed Bit and pieces taken from there and yonder Recreated in our own minds

We are left with our own existence. The remanufactured interpretations Of the things we know, Trust, and believe

That is what this is This existence of sweet nothing An intangible world: In which, Of nothing else, Have or will I experience

This Intangible Existence

Right now I'm listening to the acoustic EP that I recorded last night with Billy Hillman. There were a few cover, two young sprouts, and a bunch of my very good old friends. It didn't take me long to find them all in there own wandering orbits. There was one that I really wish could have been part if the story, however I was unable to find the autumn--crimson of its sphere. I hope the mission I set to accomplish with this work will come to fruition; It's been a long time since I felt this accomplished with a work. The music should be on iTunes & other online media sources.

Something really cool is about to start.

This was where I was the first time we spoke on the phone.I remember you telling me that you didn't want thing to go where they've gone. You lied.

The artist:He's a man that I came to love so long ago. Filing through blades of grass, The one who lives deep inside me: he is. Fearful of the world in which he lives, he calls, "I'm gonna leave my body!"

The athlete: He drowns the weight of his native planet, And tantilizes others like himself. The surface of his own puddles: he is. Proud in youth and beauty: a proclamation, "I will lose my mind!"

"Go!" Said the mind, as I drifted along the fence line of Camden. "You can take me on a cheap vacation; I don't want to have expectations because you, Could be the end of me..."

He took me to Neptune. There we watched, From the front row, Uranus' transit through Pisces.

Bathes in the waters of Aquarius, I wore a sea blue-green ball in my left cartilage-- It was a gift from my sister-- As to commemorate the holiday.

We watched the transit.

Whenever things like that happen,You find yourself Outside; On the porch; In your underwear; Smoking a cigarette, And you think to yourself, "That's what I've been putting up with all this for"

It was good. Everything that I expected. Sensual; Rough; Dirty;

"Was there no love?" You asked. "Surely there is some," I said.

"But the beast here has come from much hotter places than that. This is Summer's Lust's metamorphosis into a sensual beast, whose long reach and blue iris has caught me: tangled in his embrace."

That long embrace, And deadening sting, Has found me, Paralyzed.

A threat has been placed on the head,Of this life that I have come to know.

Insane;

It's destined to end, Regardless of how I reconcile it.

What do I do, Lord?Caught in addiction, And quite possibly at the end of my rope? Regret.

In raged with my self, "What have I done?" Here I am in the midst of my own, Destruction.

All in all, my Lord, I know that I'm glowing. You see me here, and knew I would be here. Here my distress call over the intercom, "s.O.s";

Totems:The badges of the tribe.

Not much of them, I have to say.

I've not many of them, Of my own.

I just don't want to be seen right now. Laugh at yourself, young one, it's two thousand and seven all over again. Thinking about what you want to do: measuring the pro, while weighing the con. What more could you lose.

Have this conversation in double time, at the same time, between one another: "I would put my life in danger. I could lose my job because of you."

"I could," I tell myself. "I could lose everything because of what you and me are doing"

So here I am, alone with my thoughts in town center, where she makes her speech...

And the thing she says is what he said.

Fourth gearFear Skydiving

House visits Sensuality Suspicious activity

Fear Sensuality Submission Wounds

Postcards from H.A.L. 2o12

:::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 20, 2012 What is this, Summer's Lust? You have followed me down the trail to Winter, Where you will keep me warm On a given night

A night where you are lonely, Feeling the same as I did whenever I let you in. Blow you smoke into my mouth, O cousin of July.

You will make an American out of me, In no time. Squandered in my failed attempts, To maintain something that is already broken.

Postcards from H.A.L. 2o12

:::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 15, 2012 What to do. No denial. Tears that don't fall. Stale. Seemingly Godless. Lonely. Masochist. I loved him. I would have continued If it wouldn't have failed on its own. Lonely. Lonely. Alone. Aloneness.

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Postcards from H.A.L. 2o12

:::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 13, 2012 Abducted; this is how I find myself. My extraterrestrial invader has taken me to the furthest ring of Saturn. Here in his new ship--with the finest of equipment--he has stripped me from basic request, despite my original understanding.

What have I done? I asked for this. I used my powers to conjure this, and the might of those powers I did not understand.

Whenever you're like me you can fall for anything.

Postcards from H.A.L. 2o12

::::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 3, 2012

It's 3:07am; I'm awake with a visitor. I am to man a ship much larger than my own in the coming hours. It's strange where I find myself whenever I've been floating around up here.

I have no real purpose; I'm just observing.

It seems I've landed on the shores of Neptune. I saw picture of it in a magazine; it stuck my fancy, and I saw it as prime real estate for a personal holiday.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;it's strange the people you meet here, the sound you hear & the sounds you make, but most of all--the people.

"Exiled," comes to mind.

We're all bound to Egypt, despite my German heritage. I'm native Pagan, and have never escaped the flags of Acadiana.

As if I had more today, there have been no transmissions, however, I have been listening to the memoirs of Mister Bird. He is a lovely bow glazed in rosin.

My invader on the other hand--this illegal alien--is not as soft as I would have imagined him to be. I would suppose someone would think that finding life out here would prompt more ferocity in these words, but the truth is that the life that has been discover has only been rediscovered by since a journey I took five years ago.

Nothing new to report.