Listen up, Folks...

Sculpture,
Brandon Petree, 2006.

Ad for coming youtube video:

Next up"


'A History of the Warehouse Arts Scene, San Marcos, TX, 2002-2006 and counting...'



New Show Proposal, 2008.

Thanksgiving Week 2007

November 2007.

Here's an affair my brother, Rusty, and I got into at the Iron Skillet located at Petro in San Antonio. We sat at a table next to this old man to eat breakfast, when he struke up a conversation. We obliged him, telling stories about life. It didn't take long for my brother to start in on me about the similarities between this old man and I. First of all, he was wearing a Texas Longhorns hat with his name and a drawing on the bill, I was wearing a Texas cap that morning, it turns out that he'd broke his leg in a bicycle accident, I broke my leg in a motorcycle wreck, and to top it all off, we find out that he's an ex-trucker who turned in his keys for drawing and picture making. Well, such paradigmatic events can not go undocumented, therefore, our cameras rolled, and below is an edited outcome, with a few twists:

Trucking Cowboy Posts

If you could travel side-by-side with a Bullet

If you could travel side-by-side with a bullet, it would sound like a semi truck moving at speed with a full load of freight.

The Cowboys are winning, their record is 11-1. They've beat the Giants, the Eagles, and ???, Green Bay since I last posted here. They're winning, and I'm proudly supporting them with much pop-corn and heart, four games left, go Dallas.

The road. Why do we even participate? Why is it that we see what we are then we keep going? And names. Why do we have names? What is the purpose anymore? Questions. Questions fill the heart of men. And when men have no answers to questions the rest of the world is lost and without answers. This is our universe, men, signed and deeded over to our trust. To our responsibility. But who are we? We all know, yet still we question. We reject truth for our own complication. Oh, and that leaves the gates open wide. HeeHeeHeee! Open wide the paved cemented steel belted road of doubt deep into the heart of a man, ahhhh and once infection takes ho;d and begins to burn rapid and unpredictable like a wild fire over drought stricken land driven by winds whom have no master. Yes. YES! Doubt your brother, hahaahaaaa. They say, voices in collision, don't listen, don't hear, don't excercise restraint. Instead,.... make war.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Make War.

MM.

Trucking Cowboy Posts

Dallas Cowboys @ Philadelphia Eagles

We whooped them,

this time we did.

and I posted an entirely,

here, an entirely different post.

To have it only erased,

erased by the diconnection of the machine.

Low to you,

to you my machine.

How is it that you

fail only at the time when you,

when you must save your memory

and mine within?

Low, low, low

to me, to me and to my machine.

For it is now I whom need you

to remember for me,

and you lack the compassion to care,

to care for me.

So there it is,

woe, woe is me.

and my sorrow for 4

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Posts.

Trucking Cowboy Posts

Week Six

Dallas Cowboys vs. Minnesota Vikings

Well, let me just begin by saying that today's date is Monday, October the twenty second of the year of our Lord, 2007, and I have still yet to watch a game that occurred yesterday. "What?", you say, "How can this be that this man is one day behind the rest of us? How can he not know the outcome?" I'll tell you. Yesterday I was strongly inspired, and motivated, to pack up my equipment and head out into the prairie (down into a nearby Floyd county canyon where the First Baptist Church of Lockney gathers once a year) to paint landscape. "Ahhhh," I said, "I will study this canyon with paint." Upon my departure from the Sunday Morning Worship Service, I received brief and eloquently simple directions as to how to arrive at this canyon of said location; however, the devel often arrives to toy. Between this arrival and the time of my leaving, I rushed home to gather and organize my supplies, grabbing five canvases of various size. Soon, more time had passed than I gathered and before long, I was wired and tagging with me along electronic devices of individual functionality. All of these things with me, I set out with companion to find the great canyon.

In Walked the Devel

Davis:

"...man..., I think after that house we were supposed to turn right."

Justin:

"Are you sure? I thought it was left, take the first left after the house at the top of the Southernmost Ridge, right?"

Dave:

"yea, that's right it was left..."

Justin:

"Well, I'll just take this left right here, surely it goes there..."

Lo, but behold it did not. The duo plus paint marveled at the countryside and when the critical time came it was about face and STOP!

The sky was alien. Perfect. And not to be matched in any form.

In every direction the perfect landscape, ... the perfect scene. The air was crisp with low breeze, and the setting yielded much promise. Immediately rushing of multiple actions as I began to unload, sort, organize, place, and layout for what was to be the mother of all wars in painting of my experience. No more than fresh paint hit pallet, that the winds began.

The earth howled and moaned with the line wires of acupuncture which grappled them, "WAR! War is upon you", they said, hissing and spitting as they fled. "You warrior demons are no match for me. Death be your Commander." The landscapes still held true, all of them perfect, all of them grand, but indeed, the sky was alien, and direction was lost. A new wave came upon me now, again, blowing harder this time with magnification of an out of place sun in a sky cast behind clouds of thin scab. Harder I pressed, "FASTER!!!", was the report I gasped. But the Sands of Doom have an agenda of their own, and into the ditch of red sand my canvas' were caste. The sun hot, and dry on skin, deleting all moisture with embrace of cold wind. "From the Mouth of Creation this day has come", at last. I continued on, from the hour of two until six. Until the fury of the land were wrought upon my mark together merged, locked... and clasp.

Until the day was done, finally reaching the canyon land at the second greatest time of His command, light and colour were equally as grand, as the lost alien sky of Safari County West Texas Road. But just between me and the sand,...

"He who laughs last, laughs good..."

/

/

/

As for The Battle of Vikings and Cowboy Men

I "tivo'd" the broadcast, watched the first half after a good shower, then fell asleep on the couch during half time show. The score was fourteen to seven; so I still don't know who won.

***the same***

as it still stands, for I and the sands.

Ass Handed to Us

* The Trucking Cowboy Posts *

Gross. The only thing I'll say about last week, I said in the title. Wow. The Patriots kicked our butts. I was hoping for some kind of mortal combat defensive showing by Dallas, but instead Sheriff Brady dealt out some finishing moves worthy only of the Scorpion himself. Dirty. Now, the uncertainty. Will the Cowboys will go up or down? I hope they rebound fiercely against the Vikings and avoid falling into that pit of shame teams share, who come out swinging undefeated-swagger the first five games of the season, then turn out to be the morons of the league by finishing out at 500. That would make me have "Night of the Living Carnitas" in my guts and brains (great title by the way Durham; http://www.jddurham.blogspot.com/).

New England Patriots 44,000 Dallas Cowboys 24 F

Special thanks to the state of Iowa for having free high speed internet at all IA rest area locations, an attribute far exceding the progress of most of the other fortynine.

Oh, Despair, Despair,.... Can This Be?

Dallas Cowboys vs. Buffalo Bills

Well. Sometimes, sometimes nothing works out. Occasionally the asteroids and comets align on similar courses and find their destinations not far from the others mark. YEEEESSS!!! Terrance Newman interception!!!!! We Live. This can prove extremely destructive. Just ask Jupiter how she felt taking the Levy Nine. Crap! Ask Tony Romo. Four more and I'm calling him Levy Nine for the rest of his career. But those are the blows that decimate the weak, and define the great. The week give up after the first five consecutive knock downs, (if not after the first two). The great never quit, Death does not even conquer them, they are free.

As you may understand, I'm inspired to write tonight while watching my lifelong team blow all four tires and spin around uncontrollably on sparking aluminum rims. There is hope. Even when great adversaries or unbeatable odds arise. Even for the Bills. They were picked to lose horribly. And right now there's twenty four seconds left and they have an eight point lead. There is hope. So, I guess the point of this whole thing is, don't quit. Two point conversion.............crap. Onside kick..................

In one of my favorite movies, a Russian submarine captain would execute a "crazy ivan" every once in awhile to assure himself and the crew that their sub was not being followed or tracked by the enemy. This maneuver was a simple break in the course of the boat, erratic, unpredictable, unknowing sometimes even to the captain himself. I recently found myself doing this while snorkeling alone in the Caribbean Sea, and just because I never saw a shark behind me as I swam, doesn't mean there wasn't one. In fact this is more an action of humility. Yes I realize I am mortal. Yes, I will face death. Yes, I must answer to a Mighty Lord for my life's results.

These simple erratic deviations, after all, are a natural hardwire. A necessity in the struggle to remain humble. A break in all routines. A strategy to out wit my own natural mind to remain at the edge, to keep from boasting a fools game and trekking onto too thin of ice. A preservation of ones sense of certainty. Reassurance, in this ocean of experience, that I am not, nor will I ever be, too great to be the greatest. Wisdom.

It does not come without scars.

the Cowboys won, by the way, with a last two-second field goal. They got that onside kick; they got some extra yards, they won. There is hope.

Dallas Cowboys 25 Buffalo Bills 24

posted from Houston, TX.

Tales from the Wheel of a Peterbilt Post

"you arrogant ass,... you've killed us..."

"Let's See if We can Keep it Going

'It won't fire!' What? 'I said it's not firing!, Dambit'

Well, what the hell's the problem?

'I don't know.'

Where the Hell did the shit I just typed go?
Man, I don't know I told you, this stuff is like making a mistake you don't remember making, sweet poetry lost forever in a lapse of time.
Damb."

At the wheel of the big rig on a run lasting late into the night, I watched the earth eclipse the moon...

Lunar Eclipse 08-28-2007, 0300-0600 cst.

"Disaster"

'all fronts.'

"...and the road becomes my bride
I've stripped of all but pride
So in her I do confide
and she keeps me satisfied...

and my ties are severed clean..."

'METALLICA'


'reap the whirlwind,
reap it.'

"Turn And Run"

Blast cried the lowly carrier, I hearyou, I hear you, Lower your canons!
Cried aloud, the screamimg blunder cried the heckle of the raptor"s Voice!!!!!! You should have listened to me faster!!!! Wars, have come upon you. /.MasterM.//;7.578[850894985614p.';]]]][---------..```~~``3%damage. X7. Have come unto Ye faster
To much Time you have taken and not enough patience have I left or will be Given.

Cries, was the low howl Of an Eagle Whoose' soaring.
The eagle Said, "Thou!
There is more yet to come."

Lasts Forever...

"goes the eagle
which cries to itself"

Well, hello folks, The four or five of you who are out there that actually check this particular blog. I hope that you're doing well amidst the passing of your days and daily lives and the night brings upon you not the sounds of coming thieves, but rest. This whole lack of a lab top..., is it "lap" or "lab" when referring to a portable computing device?, I've never really known... anyway, laboratory top computer deal must be soon resolved. My time is just so precious today that I find myself unable to get to each and every little website to leave a trace of my crossing nowhere near as much as I hope. Not to mention the fact that.... well, that thought doesn't really apply, but I'll tell you that punctual language applications are no longer resolved in a world where once all languages were separated distinctly, having now all come together like a high speed car wreck on the foggy autobahn at 3:04 CST. Don't drive into smoke.

"Thank you, Oklahoma."

Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, weary, tired, sick and hungry, for I know not how to type and this may take awhile. I was headed up to Illinois last weekend but a last minute shift in the operations of the trucking industry set me south instead. Praise the Lord, God Almighty, Most High Ruler in Heaven and on Earth, instead of a lonely Illinois truck stop last weekend, He granted me a ticket south to see family and friends whom I've not seen in many long months. And I had missed them all. Saw all of them I did except one.

And that's it. Tomorrow I return to the long haul division. And you will not hear from me for months.

So, to you all four or five farewell
I shall return to this domain I assure.
I will be returning
to you then,
Then I'll return,
And return again.
Goodbye.
The End.

Monster Posts from a Free Madman

Where is this blog headed? What, in the name of Adolf Hitler, is happening with this blog spot? Nothing. Nothing is happening b/c I'm too damb critical to sit down and just write stuff out. Could it be that I've got too much going on? Shall I run for office with only the agenda to pass legislation on stemcell research with hopes that science will save me by perfecting the ability to erect a second or even a third clone of Justin Graham out of the shallow depths of a smoking petri dish? Yeeeesssss, yeeessss , then I'll be able to rule the world.....! The whole world will be devoured under the reign of my thumb and ALL WILL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, AND INSTEAD OF A DARK LORD YOU WILL HAVE A..... wait a minute, I think thats a quote from the LOTR trilodgy... can't use that... Maybe I just need to go down and get one of those laptop computers everyone raves about, dadgum kids and their dadgum toys...
and why the Hell can't I git this damb blog to indent...?

Running Riot

"July. July has been busy. Busy, busy, busy. And I have not posted here in over two weeks. Until now."

This month has been full of family reunions that I have not attended for some years. My weeks have been full of trucking and my weekends, well, they've been spent with folks I haven't seen or talked to for sometime. It's interesting to see how family progresses and to understand the influential forces (or lack thereof) that have imposed the outcome of their lives; and to reflect on the current state of my own. For now I am working as hard as possible to erect some lasting legacy.

In the meantime, the home front is changing continuously. There were a couple of folks here living with my dad that had sort of "imposed" themselves upon the place. Those circumstances to which said situation came to pass are unknown, all I can tell you is, that last weekend, they loaded up all their things and went on their way. So, I wish them the very best, but for the home front, well, it has much more space available to now work with. I like space. These new developments have excited tthe idea regions in my brain and have changed the whole picture of what was thought to be a near completed studio construction effort. But they are changes for the better I might add.

Other than that, my younger brother is here from a break in his wheat harvest schedule and has fried my computer twice already, as well as overtaken the television with the likes of a Halo arcade. As I type I can hear gunfire, bombs, running engines and the occasional "Killing Spree" to go along with his own rants and raves into the microphone of an Xbox Live controller, asking random people from across the globe things like, "are ya'll ready to battle", and "I'm 'bout to kill all ya'll", as well as, "get in this warthog before I kill you". All which sound of the titles to some sort of post apocolyptic cd collection advertised through the speakers of a busted out television. "I told you that bitch was about to blow, we need another warthog..."

As for me, this is my latest,

The Trucking Business

"One More Time Around"

Truck driving is never ending. If ever you find yourself at the end of one road, a simple left or right will take you on to a network of other paths, leading to other places, other sites, other lives, other existences. I found myself out West this last week, in the desert lands of New Mexico and down along the Rio Grande Valley. It'd been awhile since I'd been out that way, the company I run with hauls mostly east coast freight. I was laid over at a truck stop west of Albuquerque for several hours last Monday morning and watched the sun rise up over the Los Pinos Mountains. After a little while, I took my dog out for a walk to explore and make marks around the edge of the Flying J. We made our way around the west side of the facility, sniffing the dry shrubs and rocks that marked the border of the property, when we came upon an open gate in the fence line. Leading us further west, we followed the opportunity to walk out into the hot dirt and bushes to see closer the expanse of nothingness that the desert land offers. After a short little walk out that way, I'd had enough, stopped in my tracks, and was unwilling to proceed; but Chegg Dog continued. Strange thing about dogs, they're always willing to explore further than we are. He went his way and I remained, taking in the atmosphere and barren beauty of desolation. Minutes passed, and when my attention was called back to my companion, he was nowhere in sight. I called out to him once and he poked his head up from a dry mound of dirt that crossed another fence line. I made my way over to him to see what he'd found and it was there I realized he'd discovered the grave of Justin G. Strangest of all things was, that's my name. "What great irony Almighty God has for us in this life", I thought, that my own dog would lead me to the one physical marker in all the desert that symbolized the death of one man's spirit, and the rebirth of another, beneath an old iron cross. Praise Almighty God. Amen.

Hello.

"Introduction into the Now"

To better give a description of my life, it is important that I brief the readers of my life today. I am a student of art. Painting and drawing have been a firm consistency throughout my thirty year term on earth. I studied painting at Southwest Texas State University (now Texas State University) in San Marcos, Texas, around the turn of the millennia. I recieved an undergraduate degree from that university in the spring of two thousand three in the art-studio project of painting. After some degree of experimentation and exploration in the San Marcos area I have retreated to the Texas Panhandle (home) to build and begin my quest in the world of art. However, this new beginning comes with the sacrifice of time; time taken from my great love for the movement of paint and pen. I have called upon the knowledge of my father, a retired truck driver, to fund the begginings of this journey. Therefore, I am currently bound to the endless highway of cityscape, open country, setting and rising sun. This experience is one of great health to me, for it has reopened the paths to my family's simple orgins. It is on these roads where the most important and everlasting possession each and every human being must acknowledge is being refilled to me; My soul, My spirit, the Spirit of Mankind.

Music: R. Carlos Nakai, Star Chant

Let us begin...

"... shall I begin like David Copperfield; I was born. I grew up..."

The average human loses time each day thinking about how to communicate something to other humans in such a way that sounds progressive and interesting, like I am now, sitting in front of a computer trying to understand in my own mind where to begin. Not that the loss of time is wasteful, it is in fact quite necessary in order to comprehend the notion that there never exists within this realm of life the idea that time is wasted. Footnote, for the last statement rings me into another subject to which the last twelve years of my life have been devoted. I'll cover that matter soon enough. And besides, this post is just to begin, even the weakest of the wise instruct fools to never lay all their cards upon the table at once, especially in the earliest of beginnings.

The mind is a place of great windstorms. It seems that every thought is whisping around inside the head from one to next, colliding sometimes in space; where once one idea was spinning along, there now begins a star cluster of thoughts slowly dispersed in the collision of the first two. I'll simplify by saying that I interpret the thought process of my own human mind toward the experience of life like the vortice; a fast moving whirlwind, largely unpridictable, often destructive, swirling with the debris of interpretations from the interaction of lives, beautiful, chaotic, very well organized.

The truth is, that my human sensing capabilities are, as is for all, a massive array of tools used for observation. I enjoy remembering. And who I am is nothing more than a constant, yet brief fixation on the various movies I've enjoyed watching, music I've listened to, places I've seen, and people I've met. Not all of them I have liked all the time, but remembering,... sweet memory.