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These are pictures I wasted time making first in colored pencil, or photographs of dolls, or coffee-shop backgrounds, and then taking my computer stylus and AI tools to them.

The faun in Greek Mythology is a creature of sensuality.  They are often called Sons of Dionysus, and sometimes Sons of Pan.  They are more youthful and beautiful than Satyrs who are older, uglier, and consumed by lust.  They live for sensual pleasures.  Music and dance, food and drink, love and romance… but always more subtle and refined than what is craved by the satyr.  Mozart and minuets for fauns.  Charlie Daniels’ Band and slam dancing for satyrs.  Luscious fruit pastries and vintage wines for fauns.   Cheeseburgers and Bud Lite for satyrs… (Sorry, apparently satyrs are currently shooting Bud Lite with AR-15s.)

  I won’t even try to break down the next one because of the rudeness and crudeness of satyrs.  But you get the idea.

You get the idea because I have repeatedly showed you pictures of fauns throughout this work of essay writing.  And I explained to you ,about Radasha and Fernando and maybe some other obvious examples.

Fauns are an important personal symbol to me.  Just as the cardinal is an important symbol because it is the little red bird that does not fly away when the winter comes.  Fauns are the symbol of taking the sensations of life, the good, the bad, the ugly… (and No! I will not pit them against each other in a gunfight) and making something ultimately beautiful and enjoyable out of it, no matter what the faun has to endure.

When I separated my sex life from my child mind, it became a faun.  I avoided masturbation to the point where I began to have nothing but wet dreams instead.  The faun came to me and began talking me into not being such a cold and lonely person.  He got me thinking about girls again.  And my only wish now is that I had listened to the faun sooner.  Maybe my prostate wouldn’t be in such a wrecked state now in my old age.

So, basically fauns are a symbol in the language of Mickey.  And fauns are naked.  So, silly idiot Mickey likes fauns as a symbol of naked enjoyment of the sensual side of life.

Sometimes you just have to write everything down that you’ve been juggling in your head. The pieces of the puzzle won’t fall together in order until long after you place them in front of you. I’m not suggesting that my mind is a literal blender, but, especially when I’m writing in a stream-of-consciousness style, I am really good at making idea milkshakes. There are several large pieces to the puzzle of life that are now on the table in front of me.

One jagged-edged puzzle piece that is going to be hard to solve into the larger picture is climate change. The latest IPCC Report states without a doubt that it is no longer within our power to keep the world temperature from rising beyond the critical 1.5 degrees threshold. The Arctic ice covering will soon be permanently gone, the Gulf Stream is breaking up and diffusing, the oceans are rising and turning to acid… dang!

But it doesn’t do any good to become a Doomer and Gloomer. If we give up we will be much deader than we need to be. There are things that can still be done to mitigate the worst of it. And Elon Musk is not going to save us by taking us all to Mars. And the politicians funded by massive fossil-fuel corporations aren’t going to solve the problems either. We as the majority of human life on Earth need to come together and insist on our right to live. We need to convert our energy use to non-fossil-fuel production schemes. We need to do for ourselves what the rich mother bookers won’t do for us to help us survive.

The recently deposed orange-faced King of America now needs to be held accountable for the things he did illegally while in office. In other countries, a corrupt leader guilty of what he is guilty of would’ve been stood up against a brick wall and shot by now. We certainly can’t let him run for Prexydint in 2024. We won’t survive another four years of the evil-clown kingdom. It will be the death of all of us. Literally.

And my son is ill again. The one who already had Covid once. And may now have the Delta variant in spite of being vaccinated. He is definitely ill with something.

All these things worry me. I have been mentally juggling these things in my head for too long. And now, screws are loose inside there. I need to puzzle it back together, not put the blender on puree.

From an Instagram photo of Emma Watson. Sorry, I am not better at portraits.

Snow Babies digitized.

Catty McCatface

Donald J Felonious’s Mugshot

I confess to tracing this one. Beautiful faces are easy. This one is the complete opposite.

**This is an update of yesterday’s post.**

If you have made it this far with me, you are very probably beginning to wonder, “Where is Mickey going with this? Why is he writing about being naked so much?”

And the answer comes in the form of a brief summary of what Mickey’s life is all about.

It took a big turn for the worse when Mickey was sexually assaulted at the age of ten.

And Mickey lost the ability to be comfortably naked, and his childhood turned dark.

But Mickey did not become a vengeful monster. With help from the Methodist Minister and a good friend who knew something was wrong and was willing to talk it through, Mickey decided it was better not to end it all, but rather to invest in doing something good with his life. He became a teacher.

He did a commendable job in a profession where good people are needed, but things are hard enough that only idiots agree to do it if they truly understand what the job entails. Luckily, Mickey is a total idiot. And he learns how to actually help kids. And his life gets better. And maybe that is something the idiot actually deserves. He ends up with a wife and three kids of his own.

But there is always a butt at the end of the spine. Mickey reached a point where he could no longer be a teacher anymore. He was too ill to stand in front of a classroom and hold the big pencil. Being ill led to healthcare expenses that eventually caused five years’ worth of Chapter 13 bankruptcy. So, he tried to be a writer. He pursued the hobby that had previously filled his closet with unpublished stories, drawings, paintings, and other artworks. He published the stuff. Even the embarrassing stuff that stripped his life story naked for the world to see, stories about naked people, pictures of naked people, and multitudes of those things literally depicting Mickey and his real life.

But the end of Mickey’s life is now closer than the beginning. He has memories of his time as a teacher, but no more teacher work to rely on. His writing is good, but not guaranteed-successful outstanding. In the time he has left, he will probably see his work mostly ignored, even by his own family. He may stir up controversy or get in trouble if he publishes Naked Thinking. That will also probably end up amounting to nothing. His terrible poetry and fuzzy philosophical thinking will also make no splashes in the Walden’s Pond of great ideas and literature. It won’t matter in the long run. The whole process is simply not finished yet.

All the artwork, poetry, and inspiring philosophical beliefs are frosting on the cake. The subject of the essay is why Mickey is a nudist. But the themes and deeper meanings in the work are more about being one with the universe. About Mickey healing himself and being courageous enough to stand naked in the face of the jungle. And he can accomplish that too. It’s all good.

If you have made it this far with me, you are very probably beginning to wonder, “Where is Mickey going with this? Why is he writing about being naked so much?”

And the answer comes in the form of a brief summary of what Mickey’s life is all about.

It took a big turn for the worse when Mickey was sexually assaulted at the age of ten.

And Mickey lost the ability to be comfortably naked, and his childhood turned dark.

But Mickey did not become a vengeful monster. With help from the Methodist Minister and a good friend who knew something was wrong and was willing to talk it through, Mickey decided it was better not to end it all, but rather to invest in doing something good with his life. He became a teacher.

And he did a commendable job in a profession where good people are needed, but things are hard enough that only idiots agree to do it if they truly understand what the job entails. But, luckily, Mickey is a total idiot. And he learns how to actually help kids. And his life gets better. And maybe that is something the idiot actually deserves. He ends up with a wife and three kids of his own.

And all the artwork and poetry and inspiring philosophical beliefs are frosting on the cake. The subject of the essay is why Mickey is a nudist. But the themes and deeper meanings in the work are more about being one with the universe. It’s all good.

He was born in 1819, to Quaker parents in the Long Island part of the State of New York. He was not just any man. He was a common man. He was every man. This is the thing he taught us in his masterwork, the poem he took a lifetime to write, his Leaves of Grass.

In 1978 I took a college course in American Literature that included Ralph Waldo Emerson, the Transcendentalists, Henry David Thoreau, and the premiere poet of the movement, Walt Whitman. He then spoke to me through his poetry in Leaves of Grass and taught me the fundamentals of everything.

Yes, Transcendentalism is the beginning point of my personal philosophical journey in life. Transcendental philosophy grew out of the Unitarian religion where all people are basically good, a point that appealed to my heart directly. Not that there are no bad or evil people, but these come about by the corruption thrust upon them by institutions and organizations controlled by those previously corrupted. People in their self-reliant, natural form represent the goodness inherent in creation.

In many ways, Walt Whitman, in his innovative free verse, becomes the voice of the transcendent experience. If you look seriously at his poems like “Song of Myself”, “I Sing the Body Electric”, and his elegy for President Lincoln, “O, Captain, My Captain!” you see that he was a strong advocate of self-reliance, a celebrator of sensuality and the physical pleasures of life, and he reveals a deep love of the goodness evident in human beings like Lincoln who illustrate the heights of goodness we can reach.

So, what is Walt Whitman doing in the middle of an essay basically about being a nudist or naturist?

One factor he has in common with the naturists and nudists whose activities are generally illegal outside of private places is in the reception he gets from the culture in general and the institutions that prop it up.

Walt discussed enjoying life and sexuality in ways that were labeled by screaming critics and keepers of the public standards of what “You better by God well believe!” as scandalous, pornographic, and evil. Of course, he was either a homosexual or a bisexual man in a time when those things were considered highly illegal and punishable by law. He probably, just as Henry David Thoreau did at Walden Pond, bathed naked in lakes, ponds, and rivers outdoors. This was not an uncommon thing in a time before indoor plumbing was common. But the morally upright and accusation-ready multitudes would’ve much preferred that this man exhibited more piety and far less naked skin in his life. And his poetry was so… so… sensual and exhilarating to read about in a time when morals were more likely bound up in tons of religious restrictions and practices preferred by clergy because they made you more pure… and less… that!

And what matters most about the poetry of Walt Whitman is what you find there about the transcendental experience.

Ralph Waldo Emerson called the experience, “Spots in time.” That moment in which you stand centered amidst the natural world, finding in it what is transcendent, what connects your soul to the soul of the universe. In those moments, whether you experience that spot in time while naked or not, you begin to understand that everything is one thing. It is all connected. You can find God when the butterfly lands on the back of your hand… or when the cardinal sings at you from a high branch in the elm tree. There is no way to explain it better than that. You will not truly understand until you transcend reality for yourself. I get there by naked meditation. Your path may well be different. But you have to go there, at least once.

More than that, when you return to a book-lined world of libraries and thoughts of men whose lives are long since complete you should read Leaves of Grass. And Walden, Henry David Thoreau’s book about living the simple life living in the natural world. And while you’re reading, don’t forget the essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Charles Lamb. You do not have to invent the world for yourself. There are others whose thoughts and words proceed you. But do not take my word for it. Or their words either. Think and choose what you read for yourself. No one has the right to do the thinking for you.