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What it Looks Like in Living Color

Sometimes poetry is just pictures. Pictures have meaning too. Especially in color.

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The Quiet One

She sat there behind her desk, looking at me, the teacher…

The Quiet One, I knew her well, we had had these discussions many, many times…

Saying nothing to each other.

“So, do you want to tell me about it now?”

She shook her head… Of course, not…

The Quiet One has so much going on in her head, that she cannot talk…

Unless she trusts you… Unless you are her friend… Then she hardly ever stops talking…

She’s funny and smart and full of stories and jokes and facts and memories…

But she only has one friend… And it is not me…

She’ll never ask for help… Even though I know she needs it…

She’d sooner die than talk about what is really bothering her…

And I know what it is… And it breaks my heart that I can’t help her…

I write her a sticky note. “I love you. I will help you if you need me to.

I push the note in front of her. She reads it.

She looks up at me. A shy smile. “I know, but it’s okay.”

I have to hold back tears. I know she will face it alone.

I know because I was once the Quiet One too.

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The Boy Who Dreamed in Outer Space

I saw 2001, A Space Odyssey when it first came out in theaters. I saw Neil Armstrong step foot on the moon for the very first time in the Summer of 1969. I remember seeing a Gemini spacewalk on the black-and-white TV. I even remember standing in our backyard in Iowa, looking up at the blue sky, and seeing the bright pinpoint of light passing overhead that was John Glenn orbiting the Earth in his Mercury Capsule. When I was a child, I believed in space travel. I thought there was where I was one day going to go.

I believed I needed to be physically fit, smart, adaptable, and ready to accomplish anything necessary to leave my mark in life among the stars. I played sports full throttle, I got A’s in high school, and I won a full scholarship to college. It was the Space Program, not me who slowed everything down.

Of course, I went into education and became an English teacher instead. Rather than blasting off into space, I introduced classes to Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, and Kurt Vonnegut. I read out loud and took them to Mars with me and into the interstellar far reaches of an imagined future that was further off than I was led to believe. I was teaching the day the shuttle Challenger blew up, killing the first teacher in space as horrified students watched on classroom TV sets all across the nation.

But the twelve-year-old boy that lives in my head still has not lost the dream. I may not live to see it, but perhaps the memory of me will make it there with somebody’s child that my stories, beliefs, and passion were paid forward to by someone in my class who actually listened to me. It could happen. I am not a hopeless fool.

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Cissy Moonskipper Meets the Nebulons

The Ship’s Log of the Dark Moon’s Dreaded Luck in the Earther Year 5239, the month of Marching, 23rd day of the month.

I have not ever wrote a ship’s log entry before, but now that Dad is marooned on a faraway star, and both Mom and my older brother Wose are dead, there ain’t nobody else to do it.

I became captain of the Dreaded Luck about a week ago when a Lupin pirate killed Wose, but got disintegrated at the same time that the bullet entered Wose’s big, stupid head. I thought then that I would be the last living being on the starship. And I am only twelve until my birthday in Joon. Fortunately, though, I found the little Lupin puppy-girl that the pirate Lupin werewolf had brought with him. She’s cute and cuddly, not at all like an evil Stardog. I renamed her Friday and adopted her for company. And she told me a bunch of stuff about her pirate pack on the nearby planet. I needed that spy-stuff information to solve my problem of not having any crew.

The ship’s computer, David, was not independently intelligent, so I got help from an AI program called Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter. He helped me train one of the giant spiders in our cargo hold. And he turned out to be a very wise and capable friend. He read and memorized the ship’s owner’s manual. So, he could help me repair the starship and anything that broke down or was running poorly. That took care of the need for an engineer to replace old Wose. He could also teach me how to use the pirate skiff and drive it to the planet so we could secretly steal a pilot from the Stardogs’ prison.

The Crocodile guy went along with me to the planet in his holographic form, transferred from my spaceship to the skiff by data transfer. Friday went along mainly to hold onto me and not be left alone on the ship with only giant spiders and cleaning bots for company. And while we were there, we found and freed a group of Nebulon prisoners. If you’ve never met one, since I don’t know for sure who you are who will read this log, Nebulons are those blue-skinned alien people with bright yellow hair and red cheeks. We Earther-types call them Space Smurfs for some long-forgotten reason. And I didn’t know before we met them how different they really were from us, though also how much alike they are.

Suki, an adult Nebulon lady who was my size but much older than me, not only helped us all escape from the Stardog pirates but promised to use her pilot skills as part of my crew in gratitude for freeing her people. I like Suki a lot. She is also now not only a crewmember but my very good friend.

Suki’s piloting skills and my gunnery skills combined to help us win a space battle against the Stardog pirates. We apparently killed the leader of the pirates in battle, but he also used a virus to kill David, our shipboard computer. Fortunately, the Crocodile Hunter could take over David’s functions and was even better at it than David had been. We left the planet of the pirates with a six-day-long jump through folded space.

But we came out of jump space next to a monstrously huge space whale.

“Oh, my God!” I swore as I was floored by the size of the moon-scaled massive creature.

“Don’t worry, Cissy,” Suki said to me. “I am Nebulonin Clan Vorannac. That space whale is one of our clan.”

And then the super-sized creature moved to swallow the Dreaded Luck whole.

*** This novella is the second book in the Cissy Moonskipper’s Travels series of stories. This is the introductory preface of that story.***

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More Mickian Digital Doodles

Recognize her? Probably not. But I keep trying to do portraits.

Tik Tok dancers.

Urchins on a fence

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Art from Mickey’s Digital Obsession

I love the fact that I can so easily turn old pen-and-ink drawings like this doodle into a digital art masterpiece. All I had to do is trace the old drawing on the touchscreen with the digital tools available to me now. My electronic stylus and the free drawing app make re-inking the old drawing like a painting. The brush, line, or effect that you lay on the old drawing takes only a swish of the stylus. And it is so much cleaner and more stylish than the old way of inking a pencil drawing with a ballpoint pen.

Take for instance this digital drawing called “The Skinny Dipper.” It begins as a simple drawing filled with color. And then you can layer details over and under, blend in more colors, shapes, and shadows. It can become much more detailed and realistic. I used a photographic background under it, and then continued to make it an original drawing by painting over both the figure and every detail of the background.

And it didn’t stop there. I gave the boy, or possibly girl, a scuba suit to preserve his or her modesty and allow a deeper dive.

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Into December… Remember?

Susu, my imaginary granddaughter, is looking forward to her first Christmas. As I invented her less than a year ago, this will be her first. I, myself, have foresworn the celebration of the holiday for more than twenty years as I participated in my wife’s Jehovah’s Witnesses’ beliefs. They reject the holiday as a pagan invention. I don’t argue with their right to believe what they choose to believe. But as I can no longer conform to their strictures, I have reignited my interest in the cherished memories of the holidays in my past. Particularly relevant now that my parents are both gone from this world.

“So, you are going to play Santa and give me a present, Grandpa?”

“Yes. But since you are an imaginary child, Susu, it will probably be an imaginary gift.”

“Oh, good! That means I can ask for a purple hippopotamus… with wings!”

That, of course, makes me laugh. She has her father’s sense of humor.

This will be a December to Remember. There’s a song in there somewhere.

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Looking Toward the Future

If I get the chance to start another Tuesday writing project, it will be a new Cissy Moonskipper story. It will be called Cissy Moonskipper Meets the Nebulons. She will be enveloped as a heroine by the strange starfaring blue-skinned people who are immune to radiation and travel in gargantuan space whales, filled with oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere and powered by living hearts of cold fusion. It will be a joy to write, and, hopefully, a pleasure to read.

But I despair increasingly about the future. The Mango-colored Hitler who pretended to be the 45th President seems poised to re-win control of this entire country. And he is spewing all kinds of bull-pucky dreams of authoritarian despotic rule that will make the Holocaust look like a visit to Walt Disney World.

If the giant angry Oompa Loompa does win, we will sooner die on an earthly heatscape since he will definitely install policies that will accelerate global warming. Don’t get me wrong, I believe this world is already doomed. He will just doom it and damn it faster.

On the other hand… or maybe the third hand… the pessimist within me does not discount all the good that life on Earth has managed. We have managed to add to the life of the universe and give it self-aware sentience… at least here, and at least for a short while.

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One More Try

This is supposed to be a portrait of Jennifer Ortega. The last one looked like Emma Watson. This one, I don’t know. I didn’t use Jenny’s dimples again and I guess that’s the only reason that this still does not look like the star of Wednesday on Netflix. The only reason. It is not because I am still getting used to drawing anime style with digital art tools. No, never that.

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More Pretty Faces

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