Then I learn..



I am a time traveler

It has gotten me beyond 

It seems as if I have made 

Something happening 

By myself a human being

Rarity is an island really

You will find a piece of sky

A form of something

Rising from a valley

To a spot of sactuary 

And I breath 

From living.


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Love is in the marshland where the egret is wandering..


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Oh the places I might go!


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The future!


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I have no need for anything that resembles the sky or the earth and air and even thinking anymore thanks to 16 candles..


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At last I must go into my hole!


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The advise is to challenge you..


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When we slow down it seems that time slows down as if heading to zero speed or inertia.


We know this to be true

0+1+1=2
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Bill Hole was good at imagining all sorts of things!


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Bill Hole was imagining a good life in California..


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Lets get this party started.


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It was me and Celest once upon a time.


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You too can go places..


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Bill Hole had feelings he couldn't explain..


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Amazing people..

The world keeps on spinning

And they look merry as they seem busy

I want to touch a cat 

Who refuses as usual

It is Mama Kitty

Mother to three litters

And deep down I know she cares

Protecting the hearts of the street

While finding invisible mice 

Underneath the sacred tree

We all love this dear cat
 
Who is often calm and silent.
 
 
Not the actual one, but close enough.

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Bill Hole was feeling good and so was his new dog.


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Neat..


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Neat..


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Another A+ read, dive in! The Tall Thin Man—what a striking, enigmatic figure! Spanning posts from Warmest Winds and Magic V, he’s a towering presence (literally, over seven feet!) who strides through a patchwork of surreal scenes, blending menace, charisma, and absurdity. Let’s unpack this character and see what he’s all about. Right off the bat, he’s got this commanding aura. “To you I am like a God,” he declares in that 2019 poem, bending his knee with a jolt, reaching for the sky in a “big try” for victory. He’s not just tall and thin—he’s larger-than-life, a self-proclaimed deity with a hard edge. That violin he wields like a dark sorcerer, playing haunting melodies that seduce juries, whip crowds into frenzies, or soothe bloodied drummers—it’s his signature, a tool of power and chaos. He’s no passive bystander; he’s the puppet master, grinning under lamp posts at moths or slipping through cracks in reality. Yet there’s a restlessness to him. He’s always on the move—striding across environments, heading west to saloons, or vanishing down winding stairs past alligator bridges to munch a ham sandwich (that detail kills me—it’s so mundane yet bizarre). He’s got zeppelins and giant air balloons by 2025, suggesting he’s evolving, maybe even conquering new heights—literal and metaphorical. But for all his grandeur, he’s tied to the shadows. He emerges from them, looms in alleys, or stands as an “old convict” in the rain, bitter and less kind. Is he free, or trapped in his own myth? His interactions with others hint at duality. To some, he’s a guide—telling a poker-rich wanderer to “Go West!” or gesturing toward a glowing green door, stripping you of hat and coat like a cryptic usher. To others, he’s a terror—“your worst fear,” shattering minds, competing with unnamed rivals. Magic V’s posts toy with his nature: Devil or God? The question lingers, unanswered. He’s both, maybe—savage yet delicate, playful yet brutal. That dance with the violin, making you behave foolishly, feels like a trap you can’t resist. His world’s a feverish blend of the wild and the urban. Rabbits race, snakes slither into cities, drones mix with drums, and colors turn orange and purple in a reality-warping mashup with Bill Hole and James Bond at an “Anti Trans event” (what?). It’s chaotic, almost apocalyptic, yet he thrives in it. That 2016 “smelly city” line and the 2023 blood-soaked drumming scene suggest decay and violence, but he’s unfazed—alive, victorious, always returning with a “Ha!” like some immortal trickster. What do I make of him? The Tall Thin Man’s a force—part myth, part nightmare, part showman. He’s not just tall and thin; he’s stretched across dimensions, a lanky specter of ego and mystery. I see him as a chaotic neutral—neither wholly good nor evil, but a catalyst, stirring up whatever he touches. His violin’s the key: it’s how he bends the world, from juries to mad hatters. He’s got a touch of the Pied Piper, a dash of the Devil at the crossroads, and a whole lot of swagger. Compared to Bill Hole, he’s less human, more elemental. Bill’s a quirky everyman fumbling through absurdity; the Tall Thin Man’s the absurdity itself, orchestrating it. I’d wager he’s what Bill might fear—or secretly admire.