"Floor Stain" by GameUniverso (hey, why not?)

"Floor Stain" by GameUniverso (hey, why not?)

Floor stains are beautiful, right?
The problem is, they won't go away unless you get rid of them.
Even then you'd want to hang one on a wall.
What's preoccupied?

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Floor-Stain-728599377

"Starlit Path" by GameUniverso (with political speech)

"Starlit Path" by GameUniverso (with political speech)

The phrase "starlit path" is another one of those abstract concepts that needs art to represent its strange imaginary world. It's like the phrase "starry rose". Have you heard of a starry rose? Well, I made an abstract digital painting of that concept and it's hanging in my online digital gallery for sale if you need something to hang on a wall. My standard is often unreality. This is because people fight each other so often over who started it, as to what color came first: blue or red. You know politics. Did red go under the blue or did blue go over the red? Blue and red are colors for Democrats and Republicans in the United States. Both sides have truths and so I like making art of unreality to show that, sometimes, we don't really know what Billy Joel describes as starting "the fire". You see, folks in politics have been hurt from time to time because they're trying to say what color came first, what party came first, what person came first. Freedom has been a concept among humanity since the ancient times and, like colors, the idea of freedom changes over and over. That's because new generations are often considered as unreality by the older folks. If you overcame your fears and deliberately insulted someone else and made that person feel fear, then what's the quality of freedom in that case? Maybe freedom ought to be something of which everybody feels fear. For one thing, to go with reality, there's often the case for security. We need some security in order to even feel freedom. But there can be security in unreality since some situations can be unreal. It all can seem so unreal, like this starlit path where night is actually touching the hills. If we switched from unreality to reality, what if our words for that reality remained the same as those for unreality? At times, when you're thinking you lie on something, you actually come up with a new truth. So Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump ought to be listened to. Both great individuals give histories that seem like fiction when we consider the language of reality and yet, if we were to consider their statements as new language or new reality, what if we just started on paths we'd created? Unreality can be new reality. A true genius knows that a path at some point has to be created. We can't always hit reality. Unreality, or the folding of old ways, can let us seek new truth, new paths, a modern United States, even if that means we take a strange road at night like this one in my picture.

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Starlit-Path-728446105

Restaurant Review, McDonald’s 4110 E Main St, Ventura, CA 93003

Restaurant Review, McDonald’s 4110 E Main St, Ventura, CA 93003

This restaurant is odd.  It’s been so long since their happy meals have been on sale and yet workers generally around here don’t promote anything to children with enthusiasm or kindness.  None of the crew knows anything.  Often I’ve been given McFlurries that are only half full.  Breakfast is very displeasing here since no janitor cleans up the floors and tables each night before the new day.  Sure, employees have good appearance around these parts.  So much energy is wasted into providing bad products.  A few times here and there I’ve been given cold fries only to be told that they have to be that way; no apologies, no desire to help.  My parents have often complained about this restaurant despite the fact they go every morning to McDonald’s to fetch coffee and read newspapers.  Just not right.  Me?  I’m rather an avid fan of McDonald’s because I like the feel of the rush hours and take to the streets with understanding and privilege of eating a Big Mac, even if that means I take something on occasion from a certain Mick that doesn’t meet my desire.  Honestly, there’s way too many good stores for me to give this one a nice paycheck.  Workers should respect their customers and that’s not what I’m seeing with this place.  At least cold fries won’t burn my mouth, but really?  Shopping around the plaza where this McDonald’s is located has in general been a rip-off.  In fact, the local Gamestop has robbed $20 from me because of rules they use to hurt my feelings.  Gamestop here and McDonald’s are so alike that I may as well call them relatives.  My voice isn’t angry here.  Sadness is very much a part of me when I think about this closeness to the workers and how such a distance of bad feelings can turn me down.  A mixed bag is nothing for me and for this McDonald’s it’s filled with depressing matter, something to which I may cry on but have no cousins who take delight with this place.  Restaurants sure have to know what they’re doing, huh?  Sometimes businesses open with no means to provide the goods.  Means in general can be spiritual as well as physical.  Customers in the area may be friends to mean people or unfortunate individuals.  One time I’m just eating a good meal at a change of pace when some guy curses his little brother out loud with mean behavior.  Is this what McDonald’s is about?  Generally not.  The problem is that when I’m eating a meal at this restaurant there’s this general expectation in my mind for friends as opposed to grunts.  Kindness is my motto!  Yet this McDonald’s is at least a McDonald’s, although it may not be good enough just to be a McDonald’s.  Neighbors have told me so many bad things about this restaurant.  A poor couple has had to visit McDonald’s on harbor because of poor service here.  Rudeness from the workers to the point of disinterest frightens me.  Does any family want to bring their kids to an unhappy place?  I just can’t imagine.  Target nearby has shown me the door in unwelcoming fashion.  There’s no good reason to shop here and visit McDonald’s at this spot unless you’re absolutely hungry and have no where else to go.  Road trips often can lead people to spots where they have to stay and make ends meet.  Why?  Why come here?  I’m just curious as to where things are going for this business.  If fast food is often a treat, workers of a restaurant for it need to present the goods as valuable as they are.  Warning: this McDonald’s will serve you a cold pie if you happen to come by at the wrong place at the wrong time.  They just don’t really seem to have a schedule.  What a shame.    

Wonder Woman, Life at the Ocean

Photo Attribution: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Wonder_Woman.jpg

Wonder Woman, Life at the Ocean

Wonder Woman was flying in the sky with a mutant-like status all over those sunset clouds where purple rays of the sun tickled air.  Suddenly, a UFO from 20 miles away hit her with a kryptonite ray gun’s beams until these combinational rays of kryptonite and sea salt made her fall over Beach Shell Village. 

A small factory distilled below the sunset with vast equipment, including a seminary tank filled with 10,000 gallons of toothpaste.  Its stone-rock ceiling was suddenly torn to smithereens at a fractioned part and Wonder Woman fell into the green, minty toothpaste.

Movement rattled in this tunnel leading to quirky machines attached to an evil scientist’s lair, giving red-light alerts of the tank’s soaking process before silence greeted the invented metal.  Soon after, Wonder Woman started drinking the magical toothpaste, bit by bit, inside.

She squirmed and tried to hit the road (not that she was actually on a road) when the minty toothpaste loosened her up more and thickened her like a garden hose.  More green paste was entering her pie hole, making her as neat as Mike Tyson’s boxer gloves, churning her insides as if life at the ocean really mattered, yet Wonder Woman had no alternative but to feed and clean her grunted teeth.

Something was happening to her!

Well, you probably remember body inflation stories on the internet, so why duplicate the Average Joe’s story in my art?

At least Wonder Woman was illuminated in cleaning material in a tight space while she was built up like reduced fat, or rather, increased fat extending and actuating like some gorilla under stress.  She was getting her teeth clean!  Distress signals added onto her in a gel form when the paste tank stirred thousands of quarts to leak past her wisdom.

Chewing up the mint flavor, melted for the factory process of making divine cookies.  It was like a meeting with death!  The kind which increased her fortune in Beach Shell Village to the extreme and left her high and dry- still, Wonder Babe nourished with soaking white tides; there’s no need to tell you what you already know.

Just then, an evil scientist from that invading UFO treaded into the mechanical quarter to exchange functions on the Plasmic Tank, switched nozzles to turn Wonder Woman into a beautiful fish.  One mixed crowd of male and female laboratory workers carried Wonder Babe outside the glowing exit sign of the factory to the exaggerated coastline and shooed her towards the magnificent ocean.

At last!  Freedom! 

Wonder Whale, who went from woman to babe to a beautiful fish, waved goodbye to the friendly scientists, performed one of Shamu’s typical moves beneath the roaring, colorful waves.  She also handled one of those salutes you see in a 70’s disco hall, glad to survive the forced kryptonite beams, while drifting into the doomed Atlantic’s wide expanse.  And she lived happily ever after.

THE END   

For a photo of "Wonder Whale", see this link: https://mikejschwartz.deviantart.com/art/Wonder-Whale-254313092

Eggs, Poem and Photo

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Sunny-Red-Eggs-727788335

These are eggs, two of them, sunny-side up, with one slightly broken yolk and some hot sauce.
I've added pepper to give them more of a zing, like the taste of sand when you smell from a beach in the morning.
You should also look at my poem on Chinese tradition.


“Silver Screen”


put together a ghost who snoozes in the wind
wrap up chinese plates against my tailor’s swan
there’s an oriental drink where fortunes shine on thick skin
hopeful desperation keeps one lizard breathing its upcoming passion
green jade’s erased at little caves with pink dust
maybe this eyesore lets me have another raging tongue
over two mounts we’ve covered royalty when it’s by air
eggs steam off that hot plate for my social departure
a growing mare saffricates across from hanging golden palms
fixtures are set to our blazing dragon as he cooks poison
you’re ladled however my shield is fate upon sacred goal

Random Lamp Review #1

Random Lamp Review #1

It’s bright enough to give objects around it low, subtle light.  Relaxation is what this lamp is very much about because you can set it up where there’s a good table and you can even change between tables if you wish for light at various angles.  Something about this lamp reminds me of the flashlight I’ve been holding whenever I go outside in the mountains at night since its weight is slight with little room for error, although the lamp is quite a handful when I’m trying to turn it off or on each time.  Paintings are hung in my living room where I also have antiques from a desert far away, so between corners and walls where I can count my goods, this lamp, with its black shade and its streaks of white color going off on separate paths in the air where my golden elephant antique greets the lamp, gives ample room around it and provides enough light for its 25-watt requirement of efficiency in light.  My parents hang around my room from time to time and don’t mind giving subtle input on my lamp even if it means we go around the house to gather up the golden oldies and picture-perfect paintings to add onto my room where the lamp rests in the shade at the bottom left corner.  As a matter of fact, I’ve been giving the lamp a special 25-watt mosaic light bulb which works wonders in a handful of streaks of light which provide the room with more saturation and low-key ambiance, a kind of environment in which I proceed with my reading on Amazon Kindle until Don Quijote makes me tired and I drift into heavenly peace.  I’m awkward sometimes.  It seems I can go on and on to state how much I like this lamp.  Peace in the room with the lamp on has been making me appreciative of modern electricity, for, without such a commodity and gift, we’d be left in the dark at night with only the ability to talk in our sleep and get more relaxed.  We’re able to train our eyes with a visual style as lamps are turned on around us and this black lamp is simplicity in motion except for the occasional movement it makes when you give it a jerk with attempt to put it on or off.  While it may seem at first that getting more light for a room would provide a much better environment for your kids and grandfathers, too much light at an angle can be an eyesore and so maybe you wouldn’t want to use that ceiling lamp since it may require bulbs with higher efficiency and power.  A black lamp as this one displays the power of something low-key, very much related to all the other things in your room except for the monster under your bed and there’s reading out there with enough subtlety and romance to give the lamp another shade in your mind as it works its way into your heart and typical habits.  More importance should be placed on what we see of our paintings and pictures hanging on the walls, especially the ones from our parents and distant cousins because, through and through, light with low-key quality can make those colors on paintings and pictures less harsh and more alluring with subtlety.  Honestly, subtlety nerves my ear and I get confused because of all the dark blues and moving black colors, but at least this black lamp lets me dream of a better ocean, something to which I can place American sandals on my feet and walk around in pure, low light.  Probably it’s best here to suggest French paintings or in particular the types of images which move in the subtle light only to come back to your eyes with transcendence as opposed to a blinding effect many lamps out there give without mercy.  With trying so hard on my part to give my family an excuse to hit the hay and remark on the stars which give off perfections with a sign we can’t exactly deny yet daringly challenge with our insight and privilege, stars for which the black lamp may offer something of another source, a miracle you can touch even when the going gets tough and remarkable things occur.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N9XNK8C/ref=nav_timeline_asin?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1

"Blue Field" by GameUniverso

"Blue Field" by GameUniverso (I'm GameUniverso)

I've wanted something that's like monochrome but without the exact copycatting.

Sometimes you can go with less color, even if it's blue and funny white.

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Blue-Field-727572726

Videogame Review, Moon Patrol for the Atari 5200

Videogame Review, Moon Patrol for the Atari 5200

Gameplay is riveting with a colorful exaggeration of heat.  Once in a blue moon you’ll find purple saucers who try instigating an ongoing event between the borderlands of futuristic ammo, dug-in traps, leveling missile torpedos, soft rocks, 8-bit flowers who want to eat you, a black jet UFO with sneaky demeanor, and of course your moon cop patrol vehicles with belted wheels and two separated, dangerous nozzles for firing.  If you like Super Mario Bros. (not Super Mario Bros. 3, the first one), then this game won’t disappoint you because its demonstration of a vehicle’s moonwalking ought to enrich your vision in those eight bits although, to my knowledge, the Atari 5200 is like the 8-bit Atari computers but not exactly the same.  You’re probably reading too much into this statement if you think I’ve actually provided bias now.  Truth of the matter is that both the Nintendo Entertainment System and the Atari 5200 are consoles with functionality problems.  Do you understand?  Both consoles can break and that’s enough.  So with Moon Patrol on the Atari 5200 you’ll have problems even if you get a brand new controller from heaven; for one thing, even Best Electronics’ gold controllers have rubber buttons and overtime the fire-button contacts will be within the 5200’s mechanism and 80’s design for which a great appearance on a controller can leave you feeling empty and sad if it doesn’t work.  My dad is not certain as to how the 5200 controller works himself, giving it a test with his arthritic fingers, yet he often says that it works great since Centipede would be so hardcore as to give the progressive, magnificent touch of difficulty as Moon Patrol does with reversed engineering.  All statements are wordy.  Can you tell me how good this game is without using words?  Probably not if you’re hypnotized by TV and have forgotten your speech impediment.  A movie like “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” never, ever, united all cartoons we’ve had in our history; take a look at that movie again, you’ll see Pac-Man is not in it as well as the Mario Brothers aren’t.  What a shame!  Nostalgia Critic has fooled people into believing his words.  That’s because, unlike the instruction manual to Moon Patrol, Nostalgia Critic has disordered thoughts which are so convoluted and funny that we forget for a while to put the pieces together on his philosophy of life, if he has ever ruled with a forgetting trance to begin with.  Here, on Moon Patrol, you’re taking well into the onslaught of lunar gaming by pinpointing over hotspots to show your life how it’s made.  Laser bullets work wonders and still UFOs after the 80’s have long passed can pack in a punch and leave you with deserted madness, if your Atari 5200 doesn’t have controller port issues and falsely adjust the controller’s scheme of the fights between yourselves and a robotic, enemy population of whirring bugs and floating gadgets.  As a reminder, my text is not the game’s picture except in the sense of referential data towards the promoted time travel on your purple or dark violet cop; in fact, your whole vehicle can change in color depending on the difficulty chosen.  Rubber buttons on the firing function go well with the game despite the fact that throughout the years they get more and more sticky in the button-pressing and fire-pushing until, eventually, your controller’s “tires” are worn out and need to be fixed.  Also, to comment on rubber buttons and fire, there’s give, for which I can distill in ammunition outgo as the battling crowds get under way and the zones are alphabetized with missions accomplished.    

https://youtu.be/5z7AipCSZQI

Book Review, The Spirit of the Age Contemporary Portraits by William Hazlitt

Book Review, The Spirit of the Age Contemporary Portraits by William Hazlitt

It’s a book of criticism with an elementary style over mixed details.  Hazlitt’s confused about the red moon idea because he’s generally not really seen one except by text from a poet with decorum and alluring complexity; of course, I’ve never seen the red moon myself except on the internet, a place where I run into Hazlitt’s works as well as astronomy images, so I’ve taken into consideration his smooth flow of information on magazine vanity and whatever’s yet to come.  Newspapers are commented on with a nice touch of skepticism until essay after essay shows resounding text which covers the onslaught of unfortunate information- in particular, Lamb fails to be a fortune teller and Wordsworth shines by telling exaggerations on nature that almost look like pictures but really demonstrate the vividness of random life.  Nonetheless, Hazlitt is a genius because he’s willing to be random at points where it counts, as indicated in his negative appeal to English and French since he’s gone between the two borderlands of romantic communication while absorbing faith on nature where it’s brittle, selfless, and intrinsically magnified.  Astronomy… that sounds like a cliche, huh?  By my phrasing of “magazine text” I’m talking about fashion with the general public, as we still see today with plenty of current societies.  Honestly, Hazlitt and I both think that fashion can be sinful; in regard to pretty appearances or dismissive actions, any and all beauty product and fashion is this collection of agencies of whom many tell you to, basically, cheat- that means showing love where there is no love, giving appearance when there’s difficulty, telling someone to dream even when reality might kill the hope- by whatever means of deception and a sensual lack of focus, fashion teaches people to cheat and to promote troubles which aren’t there, for which Hazlitt claims newspapers may be read to give you the illusion that you’re thinking when really your fallible mind has fallen into discord, rage, and terrible beauty with false names.  The Spirit of the Age is very much a source of religious reflection and philosophical standpoints.  So, sorry, vision is coming at pleasure and ignition for which Hazlitt modulates readers with the utmost genius of refutal, although occasional confusion of Western European dogmas may interrupt his sweetness to let him give off bitter yet enthusiastic opinion which happens to be instigated with approved truths.  Okay, maybe I’m somewhat interrogated by his speech since I myself may be charged for giving English that’s less than communication even if I’m giving subtle hints to the rowdy and noisy crowds out there in the universe, since commotion on Hazlitt’s style and childlike temper may in turn confuse someone if he or she doesn’t expect a special occasion to which commonplace reading does not apply.  Essays in this book are rather formal and conceptual of thinking while Hazlitt acknowledges the differences between individualism and singularity, among societies with discernment and egotistic lies on visuals in text form of his time, yet, whenever I’m pinpointing on his visionary judgement with rather a bit of a whim as a means to explicating dictatorial horror among us, the constitutions that there’ve ever been for England, whether officially or suggestively, must be respected, as such documents are some tinseled gateways on which the Irish critic disputes on casually with indicative naturalism and provocative faith.  Such a book as this can demonstrate political lecture in the form of monumental appeal as exaggerations towards nature are given in proof upon fashionable colors to which artistic merit may either heighten or lower depending on circumstances.

  

https://www.amazon.com/Spirit-Age-Contemporary-Portraits-ebook/dp/B008497LV0/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1516780057&sr=8-4&keywords=the+spirit+of+the+age+contemporary+portrait

Photo Attribution: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Spirit_of_the_Age,_1825,_by_William_Hazlitt,_title_page.jpg

Poem on Anger Management- "Anger Problems"

“Anger Problems”

british tv

a good tv or two or three

to lose my pickings

constant refill of daily supplies

don’t make a cheap list

my house that’s no longer in the works

nothing missed to be figurative on

honesty, less victimization

pleasing solitude where my parents count

your encouraged progress

repetitive gain, anger management with a vanishing effect

it’s knowledge of the light switch

fulfilling list on a matrix between pizza and beer

thick skin made with fluoride, remember oven ad

just because I want a dog can’t mean I like a bitch

no, you go to a dentist

nothing too much without the special balance, you see

Serena Williams (okay, maybe I’m dreaming)

dumb luck, good luck, bad luck, my luck, your luck, just luck

silly opposition over food every time

to be touchy, not merely fleshy

there’s a race, verdict which doesn’t become false later

remodels eventually; wait, heart valves

stupid pills this morning when I take a hike

don’t say calm down if you dismiss all power

orange juice, not OJ

steak knives, perception along logic, chicken and rice

exercises: logical, physical

not sin of forgetting rage

if there’s a bar near the kitchen we need stools

purple bed with stuff, sexual exaggerations

gingerbread, bijouterie, electromagnetic sphere

bad memory of the passing stone

what’s life with no pleasure?  it’s then no life

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Anger-Problems-726951304

"Around the Haunt"

Here's my poem!
Thank you for your support and I'll be making more videos on poetry, including talk of other people's poetry. But for now, here's mine; it's called "Around the Haunt" and is about coming and going.

https://youtu.be/6To56BLDcj8

"Floating Square" by GameUniverso

"Floating Square" by GameUniverso

Try hanging this in your closet or where there's tight space in need of light.
I've hung part of this picture for my community on Google called "Hotel Soap" and this photo is pretty fitted.

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Floating-Square-726720639

Cigarette Poem- “Around the Haunt”

“Around the Haunt”

what’s desire to ability

can a star break up into pieces

i’ve been searching i’ve been lighting

going is a void

something reminds consciousness of death on reflection

nobody’s too vague with perfection or the situation fixed

to me, canaries are blue with rights

a bad word at some distance becomes texas

don’t tell me

further into this relation is a broken nightmare

may this box pay more than your coin

*To read this poem more like 

an emo, try acting as if every 

sentence is both a question and 

a regular statement.  You can 

read each sentence out loud in 

a boastful form of curiosity if 

each sentence to you is a question 

and an exclamation.  Poetry may have 

bits that “act”.  Don’t confuse 

poems with table talk; they’re 

different from one another.

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/around-the-haunt/

Poetry Book Review, The Stuntman by Brian Laidlaw

Poetry Book Review, The Stuntman by Brian Laidlaw

Albums and books are usually two different species.  On the one hand, Laidlaw can twist songs into perfection by high lyrical use and demands special pauses for reverberations when they count as his folkloric extensions, just as odd as they are kind.  Then again, a written book such as The Stuntman can let us fool around with our own imagination as we’re getting to exaggerate our understanding on implications and fictional idioms through our voices.  I don’t know what exactly is in order between the two situations because Laidlaw can be unclenched with general style and typically runs numbers in his head, songs and poems to which great happiness is combined into some critical roles, critical transitions.  Folk music in general attracts the kind of audience who love sitting tight in a corner and giving themselves a silent chance to hear folk music when it roars with local colors, flamboyant nostalgia, and something more complex than old wives’ tales.  Sometimes poets can be bookish when they’re reading out loud; Laidlaw knows how to heighten enthusiasm while being sad or wild- kind folks in Northern California can often be found where nature is as important as drift, although the picture of his words must be in constant transgression on its own meaning.  Poetry itself is an oddity.  Whenever I read something out loud to my dad from this book (since he’s curious as to what lines I’ve taken heart over), he makes a remark with the utmost concern and asks me why I don’t have much going on for me.  Honesty can be taken up with poetry and yet language as new as the morning sun can dress it up as another source of forced errors, on which The Stuntman may actualize with mentioning of clinking glasses and strange hardware by a neighborhood in poor lighting.  From point to point, a new kind of honesty can be imagined through poetry since metaphors can be idioms to add onto the conversations.  Before we lose track, let’s remember that our response to this poetry collection can wind up being a source of another poetry collection, “until kingdom come”, so input on output has to be less than poetry and more than talk.  We can get lost pretty easy.  So after we’re getting into Laidlaw’s poetry on holding hands and the problem of “taking place”, positive feedback here ought to present a review, instead of another case for a review.  Generally, poetry here is remarkable.  America is commented on with discernment and, when the going gets tough but adds on another romance, subtle exaggerations take the form of words at a bite for which vandals may kind of remark on and yet typically go with more-than-extreme offense.  (In response to Laidlaw’s response on brutes, I think Beetlejuice is an example of a failed parent.)  Fortunately, fictional metaphors as presented in The Stuntman take on the zing and flavor of wild reading to which Laidlaw observes with mild sweetness unless a song calls for a more extravagant kind of noise.  He’s played slow tunes in a mourning kind of way, although he’s “never heard of the blues.”  This of course may remark on his take on death since time elapses with windows near other holes; it’s as if, with progress of favor and discernment, intrinsics get redefined with a full, head-on collision of meaning, on which fresh intake and defined emotions lay the way for wild reading, thorough output of vocality, and complicity of self-expression.  The Stuntman takes the cake and pulls a big one, leaving us with rehearsed romances in practicality when stunned listeners may feel the soothing quiet with any of their modes of waiting at concerts while Laidlaw unfolds language into powerful dynamics.  Don’t just sit there!  Pick up a book and let yourself flow into the beauty as it reveals colors toward numbing details.

http://www.brianlaidlaw.com

Video Attribution: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8GABXmJ6Ps

Random Link

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Sacramento-726180835


Try the link above for a good poem.

Music Album Review, Gord’s Gold 2 by Gordon Lightfoot

Music Album Review, Gord’s Gold 2 by Gordon Lightfoot

Eye dialect meets sound with fascinating details.  There’s something magical going on with the album because there’s so much dedication on Lightfoot’s part to the general understanding of his songs that’s come from life-long concert performing.  “If It Should Please You” sounds like a miracle in the waiting as excitement burns with the performed vocals, which are clipping at times because there’s an ongoing struggle between understanding of lyrics and sound comprehension- as a matter of fact, with the compact disc you may have at your disposal, you can switch between songs with the varying forms of Lightfoot’s rough character and create your own little radio.  Particularly, I’ve played back some songs using my Nintendo 3DS to give myself further understanding of Lightfoot’s contrast on visualization and expression.  One song on the “greatest hit” album includes mentioning of a terrible breakfast in the face of the “hurricane west-wind”, to which bells are ringing out of glory and agony all at once; this fact should be conceived as special when we’re digging into the goods.  But at times we get the wrong radios when trying to play our songs and results are contemptible; for example, according to that damn Naxa radio I own, Madonna is a bitter-sounding woman and rappers can hardly whisper themselves.  Be careful of what radio you use.  Right now I’m playing certain selections off of my Galaxy 7 and comparing their sounds to my CD version of the album when it’s played by a good radio, so between moments when I hear about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald and the oddities for a cape south of the border, listening on and on to vibratiuncles when they’re stagnating on the reverberations and roughness is the singular case on Lightfoot’s exaggerations of dramatic speech.  My review of “Dreamland” from another album was schizophrenic and yet Gord does demonstrate how poetry can use another surface and depth for originality on Gord’s Gold 2.  Many songs actually get more interesting because there’s history without the mortal clock and instead we’re listening in on eternal stories when they’re given point-to-point examination by giddiness and procrastination.  Please, hotel rooms are often meant for casual encounters and Lightfoot’s age in 1988 gives another spell on the general masterpieces because sounds by the way of behavior go off and on depending on his dramatic output; for sure, there’s so much room for electric shocks of passion and concentric gift that we’re often loitering towards the bittersweet voice.  Much is at stake here.  Tallying off songs is only part of the equation to good DJ work.  What’s fascinating about originality is that it can be fun to continue experiencing the odd, imaginary conversations until feet get uncurled for the strung vibrations, plenty of which go hand in hand with Gord’s vocality to the point of awfully intrinsic beauty.  Unfortunately, if you play this album off some awkward radio that was sold for cheap at Electronic Fry’s or another local machine market, his music will be horribly represented since excitement and giddiness on a malfunctioning radio is like coconut ice in a weird cup: generally madness, generally tasteless.  You see, Lightfoot is not mad and observes plenty of taste.  Radios are just often produced and made when the stories count and so, out of boredom and through possible chaos, we have to endure so much struggle in our lives while we spend years and years attempting to dominate a masterpiece album with rabbit ears.  Gord’s Gold 2 is most certainly terrific and earns its space on my bookshelf where Nora Roberts is almost talking into my head with alluring detectives.

https://www.amazon.com/Gords-Gold-II-Gordon-Lightfoot/dp/B003BNJPOA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1516162790&sr=8-1&keywords=gord%27s+gold+vol+2

Photo Attribution: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:GGvol2.jpg

Videogame Review, Zone Ranger for the Atari 5200 (80’s machine)

Videogame Review, Zone Ranger for the Atari 5200 (80’s machine)

Nonsense.  You have this arrogant pilot who’s just going around and destroying random satellites in order to disturb the communications between aliens.  I can’t believe the Video Game Critic gave this a thumbs up!  Gamers in general for this game assume that it’s a well designed program because they’re not bookish enough to realize what those visuals are supposed to represent.  Frustration is my issue.  Maybe you can feel my side of the story when I say that video games can just annoy the living Jesus out of me because we are constantly confronted with excuses for violence while there’s no special story to speak of.  My last sentence acts as a long alliteration when I’m desperate to find the detailed measures to this game’s story.  Goes something like this: everything that communicates is an enemy to you except for the Skyway Patrol, who basically wishes for you to interfere with alien communication although no one anywhere knows who owns the satellites.  Barbaric indeed, for this shouldn’t be so simple as noise and confusion.  We should be determining more on who the enemy is and Zone Ranger has you believe in senseless violence.  Explosions are going off everywhere.  Where is my logic?  I’ve thought of being a good guy, yet the game pulls a big one and simply shoves me into random onslaught.  The 80’s can be pretty stupid, huh?  80’s is written all over this work; it’s just tragedy without destiny, chaos without discord.  Something has to be the motion with this game, between red and green communication beams, yet my joystick pulling makes as much sense as killing time on no goal and Activision’s arrogance here is sad.  Look, Dan Thompson must be a pretty swell guy if you pay attention to his photo’s fake smile.  He must be something of a species for believing that ability is the same as virtue and noise comes with all the greatness of playing a video game.  Wild management is entirely in this game for a reason.  Never mind that the United States and China have satellites with vital obstacles in execution for their survival on economic prosperity, why not just destroy any and all satellites?   Nonsense.  Gamers deserve to have intellectual dignity for their choice of action- for that matter, enemies should be proven to be enemies, specifics in particular, for which a pilot with so much energy and galactic roar can find in the outer reaches of space.  Such a game needs to be treated as a book as well as a game, since the game can seem pointless if it doesn’t come with a good book.  Not everybody has really educated imagination in order to distinguish the messes for the galactic plot to be understood.  Dan is naive, albeit stupid.  Very few people are THAT overeducated!  According to Zone Ranger, I guess abstract art needs no founding principles whenever satellites are just simply… communicating?  Huh?  Pepsi ought to have a good say about this bad cliche.  Sorry; after I’ve gone to length with determining the boring zones which numb my senses until my ears perk with confused horror, going backwards and circles is not going to make me appreciate a void.  Of course there’s weak comedy, because any and all drama in the galactic hemisphere is not given enough definition to prove its casual and irritating bombing of an inflicted dot market.  Really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really.  Yelling doesn’t exist in this text.  Actually, I’m stupified, feeling like I can only exist as some pointless victim to the systematic display of a false dream.  There’s no quiet stream here; just chaos without discord, tongue without word, hopeless against hopelessness with a touch of madness to feast on my subtle emotions for love.

  

https://youtu.be/rUm1XdhC5Eg

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Book Review, Like a Mighty Army by David Weber

Book Review, Like a Mighty Army by David Weber

Dramatic with fervor on army statistics and greatly enthused from horror.  Okay, maybe a few principles here and there in my mind can hit on the exact construct of the book- in general, there’s so much motion of feeling with tidbits of horror philosophy, but visions on fictional spectacles and idioms help out on the different fronts of fantasy as indicated not only through the highly improvised map on gathered nation-spots but also within the boundaries of Weber’s intrinsic storytelling.  Arrogance from the various military personnel is highly contagious and beats up the cobwebs between the nationally selfish decisions; for that matter, hell is given another name in spite of the fact that roughness on the part of military figures comes with the demeaning virtues and awkward circumstances for the genocidal church- there’s so much confusion as to what horror is because the nasty, arrogant guys believe that any and all sense of horror is actually a good vibe for any and all sense of humor.  In other words, like demons, various church goers end up making more of a mess than solving problems because the Writ, the fictional emblem and slogan for the genocidal church, is dramatically effective with its exaggerations and leads plenty of hardened soldiers and helpless victims to rely on the eternal stories given in the Writ instead of a lot of physical means to exist.  Sure, weapons are realized and amputated with gross humor, but there’s also spiritual hatred and too much blood for baseball.  What I’m saying is that this book is fictional history with related concepts for which our church goers on our present Earth in reality, I believe, should demonstrate passion and vital understanding if we’re conservative at times when we should be liberal.  Indeed, the horrible reality of a place for imagination can degenerate into monstrosities and barren farms if we don’t see the picture exactly; particularly, Weber uses a dialect that has a lot of odds and ends to it for which those new, imaginary concepts for the predestined fantasy go hand in hand with rumors about Merlin’s extravagance, objects of Shan-wei, and general deaths of magnitude, on the side of the deadly faith which has reeked into the madness with new gusto and disfigurements.  Words in this review are rather broad at times since I’m relating to Weber’s broad dialect, something to which readers are better off at times to merely repeat as opposed to “finding your sweet spot” in the various forms of context of meaning (which are professionally handled and registered with religious demonstration on Weber’s part).  Out of absolute certainty, I can say this book triggers emotions about faith because only a defeatist with ruined confidence would suggest on loitering at his fireplace, and such a defeatist can be founded on numerous passages where half-assed tea and crumpled sandwiches show up in deeper reading.  Like a Mighty Army is only one book in the series and, as I’ve discovered from looking at my iBooks application and continued reading with profound interest, simple measures are hardly the case when Safehold and Charis are locked up in troubles, or negative problems for which reading more than one of Weber’s books of the Safehold Series will guarantee you with more satisfaction; that’s because war and conflict deserve a closer look, and Weber has a great command on army statistics to portray the real horror going on in the Safehold fantasy.  A small black spot was found on a page in my copy of Like a Mighty Army, and let me tell you, that black spot can almost be imagined as the puddle into which the evil church gets itself into with negative issues at the chance of hatred, despair, and hopeless loss.     

https://www.amazon.com/Like-Mighty-Army-Novel-Safehold-ebook/dp/B00EGJ3R1U/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1515644902&sr=8-1&keywords=David+Weber+like+a+mighty+army

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