No hay mal que dure cien anos
me decia mi mama
Ni cuerpo que lo sostenga
todo tiene que acabar
Pero hijo no te rindas,
lo que sufres, va pasar.
Siempre carga tu cancion
como arma, pa’ amar.
* Translation
There is no evil/ wrong that lasts a hundred years
my mom used to tell me
Nor a body to withstand it
everything has an end
But son, don’t give up,
what you suffer will happen/ pass.
Always load/ carry your song
As a weapon, to love.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2020. All rights reserved
Using the DeepDream Generator is like having a virtual studio of digital artists at your disposal. My original watercolors are linked below if you care to see what they started out as.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2019. All rights reserved
Inspired by a post on my friend and colleague’s FB page. If I get her permission, I will credit her by name. And maybe make her a shirt.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2018. All rights reserved
Ten years ago this month, I started posting here at WordPress. It was (and still is) just a way to share some of my “creative” work with the world. It has been an inconsistent, nonsensical, non-sequitur of a blog, but I am glad that I started it. Most of the things I find interesting or entertaining, still end up just as ideas in one of my many notebooks. I am not a working artist or writer, but more of a scribbler, a doodler who occasionally stumbles across something interesting that might be worth sharing.
Most of it isn’t good enough to share, of course. It’s just me entertaining myself.
But I didn’t want the TENTH ANNIVERSARY of this blog to go without any posts, so I turned to my notebooks to see if there was anything worth sharing. I’ll let you decide if there was anything interesting. What I found was:
Happy suns, angels and mystics?
A sketch of “Slenderman”
I made for my oldest son, when he was into that sort of thing
“Voynich manuscript sketches”
Drawings inspired by the supposedly mysterious and undeciphered book. My intention was to color them in, but I got bored with the idea and moved on.
AND Drawings made just messing with a fountain pen.
“madre y muerte”
“mi familia”
“terror from the sky”
I love having a creative outlet that is also a kind of electronic repository for my thoughts and ideas. Long after I am gone (if net non-neutrality doesn’t wipe me out) this blog will exist as advertised: “the journal of a man living outside the demographic sweet spot”.
Thank you to anyone and everyone who has ever stopped by, accidentally or otherwise. I never imagined I would still be posting ten years from when I started. But I am glad that I started.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2017. All rights reserved.tenth
What my desk calendar pages look like after a few weeks.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2017. All rights reserved.
Digital collage for a friend
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2017. All rights reserved.
Dead at three twenty six pee em
on four, thirty one, twenty fifteen;
its work is all done.
Ten years in space
thirty five million pictures taken
three thousand orbits and never mistaken.
Slammed into the planet
and just as it passed,
sent back the best selfies of Mercury at last.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2016. All rights reserved.
I don’t like finding the dead bodies of insects
anywhere ‘round my house.
Don’t get me wrong, I smash and swat and kill
the little buggers when they trespass on my space.
They are disgusting after all, and especially to me;
when I consider how alien they seem,
but still share my ancestry.
How I hate thinking that they still foment
within their genetic recipe
the blueprints for my symmetry.
No, my distaste for finding the leftover husks
of dried out insects comes from the deep
realization that I share that fate with them.
That their grotesque beauty should be
so fragile in the end, and so easily extinguished,
left without ceremony, to be collected in a dustpan.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2016. All rights reserved.
Martin and Malcolm and Bobby and Jack.
You still hear their echoes inside of books.
Heroes are killed, and they never come back.
Stepped to the front and took lead of the pack.
Out of the valley and onto the brooks.
Martin and Malcolm and Bobby and Jack.
Believed in defense, but not first attack,
avoiding the jabs, the crosses and hooks.
Bullets kill heroes, and they never come back.
Tried to save Rome from the sieve and the sack,
warning the people of liars and crooks.
Martin and Malcolm and Bobby and Jack.
Were placed center stage and then on the rack;
received with suspicions and sideways looks.
Villains kill heroes, and they never come back.
Their efforts and names are fading to black,
for whatever they said has been mistook.
Martin and Malcolm and Bobby and Jack.
People kill heroes, then they want them back.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2016. All rights reserved.
Take out your number two pencils.
Do not tear off the plastic before I tell you to do so.
Write in your name and your address.
Get used to filling in bubbles and giving out info.
Make sure you erase your mistakes completely.
Read the instructions and follow directions.
You’ll have half an hour for each of the sections.
You cannot look forward or backward.
You cannot use your own paper.
You’ll have five-minute breaks when I say so.
You can have a drink and a snack then, but no more.
When work starts again, I’m shutting the door.
If you don’t follow the rules you can’t take the test,
Because you don’t take the test, you won’t have a score,
And without a score you can’t get very far,
Since you won’t get very far,
we’ll never know who or where you are.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2015. All rights reserved.
words with no names 