The Laborer is Worthy

Myths are stories we tell ourselves to make sense of the world around us. When you tell yourself a story that artists must starve, you end up starving. But when you tell yourself another story, that real artists can thrive, that also becomes true.

– Jeff Goins

How to Make Money Off Your Art: 3 Things You Absolutely Have to Do



The world is raging through space,
turning and turning as the consciousness
of it struggles to comprehend, to come
to terms with itself. A house divided,
spinning away from creation.

I have declared myself non-combatant,
a conscientious objector in the battle
of awareness with the infinite abyss.
I have retired to my digs, to contemplation
of conflict in abstraction.

Wishing on a falling star, we have wished
for all of them to fall, to die in a fusion
with our hostile mind and time.
Maybe they were happy to explore
the cold and meaningless Void.

Conflict is attachment and sorrow
and we hold each other here, where
we fight over everything except
the Nothing that matters. We can
give our siblings no relief from shame.

Contemplation makes the room in summer
stuffy and warm. The dust, sifted by fans,
appears like snow on the furniture, until
no one comes to challenge my redemption
through the old screen door.

I am winding down to corruption
but have considered many battles,
daydreams of boredom and horror and glory
and now I find myself at peace.


J. Kyle Kimberlin

Creative Commons Licensed

Don’t Look!

Happy Eclipse! It made me glad to see people join together outdoors, across the country, to watch. I think it’s good whenever humans join in peace for any purpose greater than their opinions.

This was an event for everyone; old and young, rich and poor, and literally from sea to shining sea. I think it’s amusing though, to call it the Great American Eclipse. Leave it to Americans to take national pride in something that’s not even happening on this planet.

I want to send a big thumbs up and a sincere attaboy to the president of the electoral college, Clown Prince Covfefe. Not to be outdone by the sun and the moon, or let a day go by without a blunder, he took off his protective eye-wear and squinted right up at the sun.

One galactic yellow ball of gas staring at another, locked in a battle to see which blinked first.

Way to go, babyhands. We all look forward to seeing how this turns out for you.


Ha ha ha ha ha. Moron.

Trump Eclipse

Bite Me

My stories run up and bite me in the leg — I respond by writing them down — everything that goes on during the bite. When I finish, the idea lets go and runs off.

– Ray Bradbury
science-fiction writer (22 Aug 1920-2012)