Something is stirring in the blood.
A hint of storm.
A rumbling below the surface.
I’m getting in a state of flow.
I hear old echoes from the past.
Something is stirring in the blood.
Deep in me. I hear the whispers.
I feel the thrill.
A storm is raging outside.
A conflict is in the air I breath.
A sweet lovely taste to my tongue.
A spring gentle breeze on my skin.
Something is stirring in the blood.
It’s time to create a new color for this world.
What are we here for?
To work on the endless cycle of spinning wheel?
To shake off the chains of fate and past rewinding mistakes?
What are we here for?
Maybe. What are doing with the time and space we have is a better question.
Everything is in our doing. Our meaning. Our existing. Our dreaming.
What are we doing in the space between the time of sleep and restless questions.
What are we doing that is adding to who we are becoming and what we want to maintain?
That’s questions I pounder.
Trump is taking a freeze to USAID. The overlords in charge are shitting themselves at losing their cash cow business front. Librarals hate for T-Money is on the rise.
Here are my thoughts:
After 10 plus years of woke shit, covid 19 shit and emotional blackmail and people just fucking with ordinary Americans and gamers the fucking chickens have come home to roost. It’s time for some free range fresh fried chicken.
Some people are in fear right now of Trump, of the world coming to end and all that bullshit but there is a part of me that is like respectfully…how can I say this?
Fuck em.
I can’t even work myself to reply to the fuckers that road the propaganda cocain machine of the media dream machines. That told me believe to believe all scientists. To trust the science and your political leaders on your home team.
Fuck em.
We ain’t on the same team. I think back on the psysop wars of 2020-2023. Covid mask theories and Orange man bad, Biden is the savory of the world and free range racism. The fucking depression. The psychological battlefield for my mind. All added on to the big Mac of hate for the straight white man 1st and the straight black man 2nd not in tuned to the woke mind virus.
Fuck em.
I wore the mask. I gave the fuckers the benefit of the doubt once. Though I never took not one shot to my ass. I gave them a shot at my trust. They took a shit on my good will and stole my fucking money.
Fuck em.
Holy shit. The mother fucking defenders of ministry of truth want to cry and moan?! All I can think to say is please cry into my coffee cup so I drink that shit or turn that shit into some vap juice.
The fucking ride doesn’t end.
To those that wrote an article on this man I don’t give two shits about. To those telling me I should give a damn what this mother fucker thinks let alone believes. To those that insist I spend one day or hour thinking about this dude.
To those that think this fucking dude is something to be admired, hated or worshipped. I mean this from the bottom of my heart with all due respect fuck you.
I don’t give a damn what you expect me to care about. I don’t give a damn about some mother fucker that if he didn’t have money he would be just another fucking pookie sitting on a corner with a 40 in his hand and a joint between his lips. Let the stable of hoes on the corner working for him give a damn about him. I don’t. Respectfully.
Not sorry. Not apologizing because I don’t give a damn. If you insist I should give two fucks. Well…fuck you and fuck him too.
Warm Regards,
Guardiandogg
In the picture above, which one is the Russian nationlist and which one is the Average American, Kamala Harris supporter?
I think about this off and on. I’ve been told how Russians are. The ideals of a Communist Russian not by Russians primarially but by ideologue Americans and other folks that have their own bias views.
It’s interesting.
You can tell a lot about a culture a person comes out of by what they look and dress like. And when they open their mouths things really get interesting.
The world view and history of a culture and people is all in the fiction and art and manner that a person carries himself. When a person opens his mouth begins to explain what he thinks on an issue can that opinion really be uniform from Russian Moscow to Paris, France.
Can simply being born India when your parents are Chinese make you Indian. Can life be that simple?
I wonder.
Habits and daily rituals.
We all have these two elements working in our lives. These two factors are the two strongest forces that are programmed into us as children. We become adults, and we begin to program them into our lives automatically without thinking.
Addiction. Is the habit and daily ritual we programmed into our lives. How do you break that programming. It’s not easy, but it is possible.
Vision. You have to have a vision or programming you wish to have in your life. You have to install that vision into a plan, and then you have to execute that plan with brutal blunt determination.
This is the vision that I want for my life. I will program my life and my mind to make that vision my daily habits and daily rituals of my life. That means any other programming must be canceled so that I get the vision I want. That means you have to lose something to gain something else of value to your vision. Choose the vision you want for your life.
I’ve known who I was when I was 16 years old. I spent the rest of the time either fighting it or pretending I didn’t know for some psychological bullshit reason.
I believe half the reason most young dudes don’t know supposedly is because they’re ignoring how they behave and what they say out their own mouth.
I was the same way.
Don’t get me wrong. Life and situations change us in ways and shine a light on some shit we do that makes us change either to adjust to reality or survive. Programming is a real thing. The Public school system is a testimony to that shit. Your programmed to behave in away.
But, at some point you are what the fuck you are and if your not a uncontrollable fucking liar then you know and your turning your eyes away from it because….
Reasons?!
Distractions are everywhere.
“Hello friends. It’s Fatty.
Recently it has come to my attention that a jealous hating ass mother fucker has recently been having my name in his mouth about some old bullshit and throwing dirt on my name. (Again)
We here in the Untouchables have a strict rule about saying this jealous hating ass mother fucker’s name. We do not wish to give him anymore attention then he so deserves to promote his failing business esblish-esta
-fuck I can’t say the fucking word.
(sigh)
I shall refer to him as the hot dog beggar.
Hot Dog is a former associate of mean. This I say with deep regret not for the loss association but my part in even starting one with this loser from the jump.
Let’s just just say our problems go back to the fight club era….
There was a lot of gang wars and backstabbing back in the day a Deco-millionaire corpo executive named Ton Big Dawg founded it as a place for people to get off aggressions non violently and make a little money fighting it out in a spirted debate in the red ring.
It was a fun time for me. A time of innocence. I was a new arrival to the city with my family. My favorite opponent was Raw B Money. We chupped it up with the best of them. Fighting Water was a favorite MC and chupper with the best of them. Hot Dog was always going after him for having a corpo job including a hot Nomad mate. He was a jealous hating ass mother fucker even back then. I should have saw Hot Dog’s bullshit back then. Holy shit I was young.
Let the past rest. So I’m sending this message out to Hot Dog. Keep my mother fucking name out of your rat bastard mouth or I’m going to go ham on your ass like I did when I buried your fucking ass in our last and final debate. Last time, fuck you and leave me leave me the fuck alone bitch.
I’m in the mood to write. I’m fixing to begin writing the complete episodes 3 and 4 but that can wait. I have thoughts on becoming an old fuck.
In my head I never really considered what it would be like. I never imagined it would take me a bit to even look my age….hmm. Fuck I don’t even feel my age. I feel the same as I did when I was sixteen. Well maybe a little bit stronger in some respects.
I was a pussy back then and I know for damn sure the dude back then would have pissed his pants at the way I would talk to him.
“Chew on iron and I spit out bullets!”
It was saying I started at the tail end of me finally embracing conflict and rejecting running from my own failures and fears. I fought back by embracing the truth. Life is conflict and the sooner I started ridding with it the better I was able to fight against my own depression and eternal war.
I think that’s when the shine went out of my eyes but it was also the moment life became a wild ride.
Warm Regards
Guardiandogg
I am an artist to my core. Always have been always will be. Creating and crafting art gives me life. It adds joy and energy to me. But this isn’t the legacy entirely I want to leave behind.
I don’t fear death. I never have. I have my beliefs about it and an after life but in all honesty I really didn’t fear death even before I came to my own beliefs about it. I didn’t fully understand why that is until I started reading philosophy and really examining the weirdness of why I don’t fear dying.
Death isn’t something to fear at all. It’s like fearing the sun rising and setting and the end of this universe whinning down to nothing.
It is what it is. As the saying goes.
I fear. No. I HATE wasting time. I hate having to figure out to late I wasted a day on some bullshit I could have not done and I could have spent a day finishing writing a book, playing on my keyboard or shooting the shit with my brother or doing another shift at my day job.
I hate wasting time. I have a purpose. I know who I am and I know where I have been and I know my death is scheduled in my Callander in the mid to late century so I want to leave something behind before I go the way of my ancestors. Yes. I am an old fuck.
I like maps. I like knowing where I am going and having a reference point to go by to get where I need to be. That’s what I want my legacy to be. I want to be a map maker. A guy that gives advice, encouragement and wisdom to people that are where I was in life or help them avoid the traps I had to dig my way out of. I’m not about bring more bullshit into this fucking world.
I’m NOT an altruistic guy either. (Altruism is some bullshit too but I’ll save that for another post) I just know what it’s like having to figure my way out of shit and nobody giving a damn to teach me or knowing how to tell me where the fucking traps where ahead in life. Some people will take my advice or encouragement. Some people can tell me to go fuck myself. I’m cool either way.
Warm Regards
Guardiandogg
Alright what is this photo telling you. There is a story here. In every article of clothing and in the very way she leans at an angle toward the camera. The gaze. The expression of one eye brow raised.
She is relaxed but posed and focused. Nothing is out of place. Everything fits and there is a story.
Interview with Kaiah Lewis best selling author of I birthed Twelve kids and run my own damn business and Boss Bitch in Charge.
GuardianDogg: First off, I want to say you have a lovely home and very welcoming family. How you are doing today?
Kaia Lewis: Thank you. I’m quite good. My daily morning Yoga ritual was fantastic and energizing afterwards I had a lovely writing session just before your arrival. I am ready for this interview to get going.
GD: Let’s dive in then. When did you realize you wanted to be a Boss bitch? Have you always had an entrepreneur spirit?”
KL: Well yes. Though I didn’t realize my full potential until my husband obtained his first million, before then I was just a house wife with three children. Those were fun adventurous times writing on my blog and doing freelance writing gigs. I was eighteen at the time.
GD: Humble beginnings. You have a very strong pose in your writing. How long did it take for you to develop it in your writing career/business?
KL: Oh I would say right around my sixth child and my husband got into investing in the hotel business that my writing took off. I got into my stride and I started getting book deal offers suddenly and here we are.
GD: Indeed. Who is your inspiration as a writer and boss? Who has cultivated you to the success you are now? Are you a self made genius?”
KL: Oh no. I would say my husband of course. He is a very busy man between doing business deals around the world and being a father of twelve. But, he always seems to find time to blow my back out on my birthday every year with the same energy and passion he did when I was eighteen. I find that inspiring.
GD: Really?! That is amazing. Such dedication and punctual timing.
KL: I agree. Of course sense I am his personal asistent in control of his schedule I always put it in his Callender of course. I always make a commitment on my part to make sure our busy schedules line up just right.
GD: You are woman of many talents.
Warm Regards
Guardiandogg
