S J Fischer
23,441 glops
Male from United States born on July 28th member since Jan. 22, 2014 833 sketches uploaded 232 fans website https://www.facebook.com/Sjonfischer  
8,522 profile views
I don't have much to say.......

Follow this if you can. Learn from it if you dare. For I am an accidental used car salesman and a high fashion fragrance specialist on the side. The circumstances in which I came to be these things is not important. The unlikely journey ; as grotesque and vulgar as it may be ; can only be matched by the impulsive electronic opera urban social media addicts play out Day in and day out.

Birthday - July 28, 1958
to not exist. To cease. Expire. Languish as organic material without uniqueness. These thoughts are so Unfathomable in human existence as to be rendered unacceptable. So elaborate schemes abound explaining and sorting out what happens "after".

Random thoughts on my birthday as I sit in my darkened blackout apartment alone.

- I have outlived my mother by 9 years. She was 49 when she died in 1982
- Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Prince. Same age. 2 are dead.
- a decade was forever. Now it's fleeting.
- eating healthy and stay fit will buy you 5 years at the most depending on your own genetic ticker. Enjoy everything! Just don't take chances and abuse your body excessively
- dead people's facebook pages are interesting
- no friends. No extended family. Never leave the apartment (apart from work). Oddly comfortable none the less.
- why die peacefully? Solace in a religion and stuff. Die angry, fighting, kicking and screaming. Cursing all the way. Then nothing. Eternal silence.

March 25, 2016
Having just completed my first training shift in the naturalist program I am reminded of the ancient phrase "the more you learn ...the less you know" this resonates in my head as I gaze at the inventory list of all the creatures that make the Texas State Aquarium there lifelong home. Some injured and unable to be rehabilitated, some hopelessly imprinted on humans, some rescued as abandoned hatchlings. The lucky ones know no other world outside the Aquarium as they were born there and will always be cared for with little chance of a unthinkable demise.
As I was just about to settle into my pizza stained boxer shorts to sit in my comfy spot to try and memorize the cute names assigned to the 7 sea turtles I will be lecturing about, I received an email from someone at the aquarium. A mere two hours after the first naturalist shift I just mentioned. The email is from the curator and director of fishes and herpetology. She wants to interview me as soon as possible. Reasons unknown. Position unknown. Was this coincidence? Or is talk spreading about me? Not having a marine biology degree one can speculate that I will be scrubbing out tanks and preparing fish food. Yet, I know a little bit about a lot of science subjects. When one is summoned by the director it usually means working behind the scenes. Actually caring for the animals and handling all their needs rather than just talking about them with the kaleidoscope of visitors. I will have an update next week. Stay tuned.

March 20, 2016
It has been a year and a month since I have worked on this profile. I have but one simple excuse for this lapse. I had a year-long torrid online sexual distraction. The kind of chat misadventures that consume one for the better part of one's free time and psyche. Last week my so-called mutually exclusive affair came to an abrupt ending of my own volition. Once a relationship whether physical, virtual, or make-believe becomes detrimental to one's own Mental health and self-worth it is time to move on and never look back . It is no secret to most of you that I have been in a self-imposed seclusion of my own making for over two years. Having no sense of purpose or a real focus on anything outside my comfort bubble. I realized before it was too late that this was becoming an unhealthy spiral and I did something positive to change my outlook and possibly the rest of my life. In a very difficult move I took a count of all my life skills and knowledge and took it upon myself to venture out and make contact with the one place that I knew I could do some good and possibly make a profound change to better my quality-of-life. The Texas State Aquarium.

It all started when I took my son (who is now 25 years old ) on an outing to the Texas State Aquarium for the day. It was fun to be there and watch him transformed from a twentysomething young man to being 10 years old again and excited to see the sharks and the Dolphins. As we meandered through the exhibits I did take pause at the invertebrate pools housing see urchins, starfish, and rock lobsters. A tall lanky and charming young man struck up a conversation with me about anything and everything to do with his exhibit even down to the substrate, chemistry, and filtration of the water. We spoke for so long that my son got bored and took off on his own to find bigger and better adventures. Before I knew it an hour had passed. As I was about to make my way to find my son, this tall young man at the exhibit with extreme exuberance exclaimed that I should apply for a position at the aquarium given my scope of knowledge on everything aquatic. I was not as optimistic as my young host given that I had absolutely no current experience and no job history since 1985. I quickly dismissed the idea until I saw a call for volunteers on the local news for the Texas State Aquarium A mere week after my encounter with this young man. The vetting process was easier that I thought it would be as I went through the paces of diving head first back into society and a very public face. I surprised myself and everyone in my household as to how well I adjusted to the first few weeks at guest services. Seems I am a natural when dealing with the public. So they say. A short 60 hours later of volunteer work I have been accepted into naturalist interpretation training to man the very exhibits that lanky young employee found me. sparking a notion in me to get off my ass and do something!

Please excuse these first rambling and awkward run-on sentences. It has, after all, been quite a while since I have written anything.

Once upon a time long long ago in the far northern frozen lands arose a huge metropolis called Minneapolis. Great River barges floated downstream bringing abundant grain from the fertile lands. This grain was stored away in a great castle know as General Mills. Your humble supplicant being no more that twenty six years of age was tasked to modernize the old banner that was brandished across a box containing exotic sugar and chocolate infused spheres. The laborious end product of all that grain. They called it Coco-Puffs.

I cannot stand my own company. Severed from any perspective of relation or consequence. Unknown, unloved, and untouched. The realization of a dead bedroom. No intimacy. No love. No sex. The person who says they know exactly who they are and are comfortable in their own skin have been shaped by everything that had been experienced up to that point. It must be exhausting to maintain that "me" list when bombarded by external forces and events. The facade of Confidence and likability
In the presence of others ; all little one act plays. Selflessness and selfishness in a constant state of dominance and submission. Monologues for whatever the occasion calls for. Once one is convinced that the are in no possession of inner demons, the mind has a way to create some. I could go on about our primal instincts, but I have probably already lost your attention. Just know the insatiable craving for acceptance, praise, and belonging are universal. If the entire human race knew the exact date and time they would die just think of the unfathomable advances in science, art, music and technology. Idleness and apathy would be erased from the dictionary. So. How is your day going?

When I was about eleven my best friends older brother had just come back from a tour in Vietnam. We all looked up to him and was an intrigle presence in the neighborhood. After being back a week and settling in his moms house, about eight of us were playing outside one day and he approached us with trepidation holding a mostly empty army issued duffle bag. "Hey...you guys want to see something cool?" He said. Sure! We couldn't wait to see what he brought over to show us. He fumbled a bit to reach into the bottom of the bag and pulled out a black plastic bag. He looked around to make sure no one else was near by. Slowly he opened the musty smelling bag and revealed to us the severed head of a north Vietcong soldier not exactly free of flesh and hair. All the boys screamed, fell away, and ran like hell. One boy pissed himself. Not me. I seriously inspected this mangled human remain and calmly asked are those the ligaments that hold the jaw in place? Oh wow! I see the bullet hole in his head. What a magical moment.

I have maintained aquariums many times in my sorted life. From the age of ten keeping tadpoles in an abandoned washing machine and watching the miraculous transformation.I would say I am extremely knowledgable on the care and maintenance of both fresh and saltwater aquariums.. Only during my delusional And constant state of patricianistic whirlwind of great wealth did my love of aquariums get demoted from hobby to an interior decoration afterthought. Set up and maintained by others. But that's another story

I am a tortured soul that draws upon vats of chocolate pudding and goose eggs to sustain myself on another plain. I am not present when the sketches come. I return and see the results and just laugh at the incompetence. We create from a relentless need to rationalize and deal with our mortality and self awareness. Or just excuse your actions and failures. Your judgements and misguided deeds as the will of God. It's either make things to leave behind that may somehow convince the living that you made a concerted effort to express the sensations and experiences during your wretchedly short time on this planet by recording fleeting conscience observations or live in passive surrender because you have faith that there is an afterlife. No one else sees through your eyes. Walks your exact steps. Admit it. We create because we are flukes of the universe. We do not belong here. We create to somehow attempt to enlighten the unwashed masses of mans untapped potential. We create as a testament to our intellectual complexities. So we create. We exist.

What the hell am I doing here? How did this become my one sole creative outlet? My escape. A reason to get out of bed everyday I suppose. I am a foul, wretched, and unemployable provocateur who despises crowds and driving in traffic. I'm old, angry, repressed and totally dependent on my spouses income. Intellectual agility, finesse, and grace are all but gone in American society.
Bunkhouse.com made me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams on a roller coaster ride between 1997 and 2007. I refused to adopt the newer and often deceptive business models as the internet grew ever more greedy and inane. I squandered millions and finally lost the rest with a bout into the music business. As a venue owner. Bad idea. Finding myself with no skill sets beyond owning a successful porn website for 15 years and obsolete graphic design knowledge pre- computers in the advertising racket. Here I sit at 56 bitter and fearing the declining years ahead. No friends and no extended family. Let me put it this way ;
I am a guy who got fired two months ago from a volunteer position in a contemporary art space for getting into a yelling match with the president of the board. I was asked not to return. I have not stepped foot in that building since. I would volunteer at art museums, but I am definitely NOT docent material. Preparators are payed and have college degrees, so there goes that idea. The gallery scene sickens me. My thought processes and ideas are no longer relevant or trendy.
I don't know what a glop is. I don't know how to tag my pathetic drawings here. I don't know how to convey hearts to all of you who do wondeful work. I am hoarding dozens of hearts because I do not know what to do with them. I can't ever make those smiley faces or clapping hands you folk use. It is not because I an ungrateful for the praise all of you have bestowed on me. I just dont understand the social aspects of SketchClub. I admit I rarely look at other peoples work here. I have no excuse for that. I do the daily challenge then log out. I entered my first comp today Aug. 20, 2014 and I am not even sure how I got there. I don't even know what it is. Did you actually read this far?
Oh there is more. I was practically raised by two lesbians who smuggled monkeys into the US for the illegal exotic pet trade. They lived two doors down and I went there to get away from my drunken benzo junkie of a mother. The type of single parent that would beat me with a coat hanger. A lot of time I was looked after by a full blooded dakota woman next door. She had a black husband who was obsessed with building a perpetual motion machine. Across the street live old Mr. Janszek. Just a small shack, but he had magical hands that he used to build boats from scratch larger than his humble abode. Hand crafted and made to order.
Behind us there lived two sisters close to 80 years old. There house had long since been unpainted as it dated back to the frontier days. In fact their mother was still alive when I was about six or seven. She was 102 years old. So I got to see, speak and touch someone that was alive during the civil war.
My mother did not live to see her 50th birthday from years of substance abuse. My father died in a car crash on his way back from seeing his mistress when I was only two and a half months old. So I never knew him. Mom was from Mexico and Dad was fourth generation tex-mex.
Hall tex-mex and half German.

Still with me?
August. 26, 2014
I believe in magic dumpsters. Let me explain. In my alternate reality dumpsters are worshipped. They bring forth unfathomable treasures if you just wish hard enough.
I remember a day back in September of 2011 in Franklin, New Hampshire during the time my venue was being readied for its grand opening when dumpster runs were frequent. On one particular uneventful day I made a dumpster run and beheld a sight that took me a few seconds to process. A pile of undeniably professional paintings unceremoniously discarded. I started loading the. Into my Jeep without really scrutinizing them. I counted 43 works of art altogether. One piece in particular still had a gallery sticker of $2,500 I did the right thing and googled him. A well renowned New England artist. I called the studio number of a certain Ron Brown and he answered. I explained what I had just rescued thinking they may have been stolen. He was terse and uninterested in their fate. Come to find out he had just moved out of the same building that house my venue and had discarded what he believed to be dead weight. In typical Yankee irreverence he just said "I don't care what you do with them. Just don't sell them in New Hampshire!
Of the 43 two stood out and are now secured in gilded frames. Including the one with the high price tag. Prominently displayed in my living room. The others take up an entire wall at the opposite end of the room hung salon style.
The dumpsters will provide. Praise the dumpsters.
Night before last on a late evening dumpster run something caught me eye. At first I thought it was a guitar. It has been freshly abandoned as there were only a few pieces of cardboard covering it. I pulled out a four foot long wooden wall sculpture covered in abstract collage and glitter sealed in thick resin. Signed and a gallery sticker still attached to the back. $1,900 Maricela Sanchez is a prominent south Texas artist with many of her pieces in permanent collections of area museums.
I did the right thing. Contacted her via email. Told me to drop it off at the contemporary art space in downtown Corpus Christi. I said I would not. Why should I inconvenience myself to drive all the way downtown to drop off something that was in the garbage. Came back at me and said she would contact the owner. Okay. Next email had a name and a phone number. I said I would. Or call. I needed hard evidence of what transpires in the event a threat is made on my person.
CONFESSION TIME. Next email: "Well actually it was a birthday gift to my stepson. He recently moved" Me: how tragic that such a gift would not be cherished and appreciated and simply thrown away. That must really hurt. Next email: "Well he said some things were stolen"
Me: Certainly when an item of this value is involved there must be a police incident report. And an insurance claim as well. Present these documents to me and I will gladly return the artwork. I think your stepson is trying to save himself some embarrassment. Next email " I will email you if he gets back to me with any information. Thank you."
Uh huh. Thank you magic dumpster! It's mine now. In the hands of someone with a passion for art. The End.

Ron Brown Dumpster painting no. 1

Ron Brown Dumpster painting no. 2

2014 Dumpster treasure - Artist name withheld until provenance is cleared
Close up :
Close up no. 2
August 29, 2014
Miss SLove playing the part of my redeemer ; hypnotized me using some spare inodes through the Internets and the following spewed forth from my chaotic sub-conscience:
I want to produce and direct a remake of "Terror of Tiny Town" an all midget musical western.
The next 50 years...well let's see...Barring any unforeseen decline in health, I have gotten pretty much everything out of the way. I have been to 17 countries, 47 States, owned a 40 ft rock-n-roll tour bus towing a 22 ft trailer. Homeschooled my two kids, been a millionaire, been 75 miles north of the arctic circle in Narvik, Norway...US Navy Submarine service. Member of one of the last operational Playboy clubs in Phoenix (1982), I have been on "60 minutes" standing at the bar in Giorgio's of Beverly Hills. I got stoned with Martha Ray in an alley. Borrowed the actual fur outfit Ring Starr wore in "Caveman" and strolled into a bar. I had a regular gig calling at a lesbian square dancing club. I've owned a ranch in Prescott, AZ. Owned a New England cottage, and a historical mansion in my home town San Antonio, TX. Experience jail time. Was homeless on the streets of LA when I was only 23. A member of a country club at age 39. I can't think of anything lease I want to do.
It's time to fade away.

9:30pm August 28, 2014
The magic dumpster provided us the five cartons of decorative light bulbs. All hail the magic dumpster.
2:45pm August 29, 2014
All humans must stay at least three feet away from me for the next 48 hours. Must not occupy the same room with a pregnant simian of any kind. They will bare hideous mutant blobs. Infants will spontaneously combust. This is your only warning.

Something just occurred to me. This whole unwashed generation of boys coming of age will think women have no pubic hair. Tragic.

7:59am August 30, 2014
I have to wonder what the demographic breakdown looks like for SC. So it would be no surprise that it will be highly unlikely that I will attempt today's challenge. I have no idea what Minecraft is.
I follow 2 people on Twitter. My daughter and SketchClub. No one follows me. Can we change that? Seriously. Everyone I knew is is dead or computer illiterate. @zazzby
7:55pm. http://www.sjfischer.com. Has been updated.
9:25am August 31, 2014
What crazy white man thought up this dumb ass procedural brush? I was cussing like a blind queer in a hotdog factory. Then I noticed it was chaotic....like me. So I embraced the brush and let my hand to whatever it wanted to do. The brush thinks like me. I rather enjoyed myself afterall.
11:23pm August 31, 2014
Our lady of bountiful dumpsters. See over us. Make things shine by the light of our feeble iPhones. Reflect back glorious wonders to bestow upon us.
Chrome tower spice rack on lazy Suzan base with sealed spice jars intact. ...and I was out of marjoram too.

I did the best I could on DRAWQUEST. Bless their hearts.
Yes I did.
September 29, 2014
You folks that make mecticulous technical achievements here are greatly admired. I marvel at the detail. The problem I have is that most look like video game fodder. This is all well and good given the mean age of the members here. I treat the blank glowing white rectangle as a canvas. I use no layers. I use very few brushes. If I alter that activity you would. To be able to pick out my work from others. And that's all I have to say about that. I can't explain my method. It boggles many people. It just happens.
October something ...2014
The magic dumpster keeps on giving. Evenafter a herd tropical rainstorm no. 1 son obtained a pink VIOS laptop. I swear the movie IDIOCRACY is coming true. The laptop was in fine condition with four separate logins WITHOUT passwords! All the Bloatware was intact, no one deleted their respective content. Emails, browser history, porn, etc etc. this...from college students who have never known a world without computers. Should I generalize the young unwashed masses now as complete morons as well? This is my boggle for the day.
October 19, 2014

She hung on and was angry to the bitter end. 97 loving years later it's over. my much beloved and ever so tired half- brother aged 70 years will reap his much anticipated rewards. The massive estate D. B. ( name withheld until estate is settled) is staggering and will still take 2 years to sort out. The unexpected blessing is that she left them each 50% of her estate. My brother and his gay lover.
What am I talking about? Contemporary art. LOTS of it. Worth millions. Warhol, Hockney, Oldenberg, Chuck Close, Keith Herring, Christo. Just to name a few. Frankly..having to wait so long to inherited the galleries I hope he takes a trip around the world on a Gay cruise ship. He has a lots of,living to do rather quickly since he is 70. I'm so happy for him. Maybe I'll get some hand-me-down art. Who knows. Lol.

I do not venture out in public very often. The decline in simple decorum and even personal hygene has nose divedd into depravity or excess. Let me get this straight. Last time I payed attention your average supermarket chain provided a maximum of two scooters and maybe a wheelchair. I observed today a most peculiar developement. There are now two ROWS of scooters. O counted fourteen. I guess that does not include the ones actuall in use inside the store. On this very same outing, since it was on my mind, I delayed my entrance to the store and watched people entering. In the span of twenty minutes three obese people waddled adequately from their car at a normal pace only to plop themselves down on one of those said scooter. I was floored. These are th facts as I see them. Said obese people would benefit from walking around inside the store. Any mobility can be beneficial. Scenario: sedentary on the couch....quick waddle to the car...sedentary while driving to the supermarket....then sedentary by grabbing a scooter for a wonderful unguided tour of all the consumer goods.
I'm baffled. Furthermore I a, baffled that the stores perpetual this slothenly behavior by providing even more scooters. Contributing the their unhealthy dormant lifestyle so they will get larger and buy more products?
Now that the majority of the unwashed masses have the combined intellectual agility of a small soap dish I retreat to my humble domicile and emerge myself in the study of noble gases, nutrition, NIH daily bulletins and published papers. I even have my prescriptions delivered, you see.
Yes I can be confident in my proclamations. I have was a Yoga instructor not so long ago and now practice at home. I love the rowing machine. One hour intense sessions. 20 lbs body bar. Venturing to a fitness center is just fine. For you see...once you are over 50 you become invisible to the pretty young shallow people all around you which is just fine with me.

My classic Hikikomoriac Son is 23 and is about to bring home his friend for a sleepover/play date. A Non gender specific or gender fluid asexual entity that can only have been born out of this new world of technological isolation. This should be interesting. Sociological observation and interpretation has always been something I relish in. I will have more to report on this subject at things progress. Wine will be involved so we'll see how the conviction to asexuality will hold up.
The "boys" are wrestling. Yes. This is how I am to address our houseguest. http://imgur.com/Tfh3fNE
First impressions...very cute skinny human entity exactly my son's age. Sigh...I'll never have grandchildren.

Please don't wrestle near my John Singer Sargent!

It's going to be a long night.

October 28, 2014
SketchClub is the equivalent of doing my daily crossword puzzle. I open the app, go directly the the daily challenge make a doodle and leave. Recently I strayed and dared make personal contact with unpleasant consequences. Never again. As most of you know I and not even one to acknowledge kudos to every heart thrown at me. In fact, I just started throwing some back at art that pleases me. They were piling up because I didn't even know what to do with them. I think I had 36 or more stored up. So I now formally THANK all of you that have commented on my drawings. Interacting would complicate my life and I apologize for that. I have been blessed with three featured drawings and a direct compliment from the Astroglide company. The main page of their product line sprouted my drawing for a while. All of the above has somewhat convinced me i have some desernable abilities. I thouroghly enjoy the experience and look forward to the daily challenge with my morning coffee. The only challenges I skip are the ones where I am demographically challenged. Anime and Fandom. And that is all I have to say about that.

October 23,2014

One of my proudest achievements :

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[1] a desktop computer, another laptop(wiped clean).
[2]. And industrial sized box full of enough plastic forks, knives and plates to supply a decent sized low budget conference.
[3] Two aquariums and all accessories.
[4] Marijuana inside a discarded backpack
[5] Korean boxes of indigestion pills

20 boxes each containing 20 cartridges of nitrous oxide

October 29, 2014
It's colonoscopy time again! I always get giddy when I am having procedures. Some say it's called a medical fetish.
I chose a young Japanese female surgeon. I have NEVER had any woman doctor. The opportunities to misbehaved will be "END"less. To be fair she is one of the best. The colonoscopy this time around I'll be probed to map out extensive repair and strengthening scar tissue and weakening of the lining. The last surgery was performed by a 76 yr old surgeon who was awesome, but maybe a bit imprecise.
Anyway in my initial consult she said to just drop my pants and undies and get in that "special" chair. Without thinking and I having no room for modesty in my life being a life long nudist and all I got totally nekkid. It took all her strength to keep that professional demeanor as she simply reminded me that she only needed my pants down. The ecstatic choreography proceeded by being fingered, spread, bent, folded, but not mutilated was like a a day at the circus for me......then the probe came out. I belted out "Oh great mystery of life at last I found you" ( Young Frankenstein)
So I "Cracked" her up a few times. It's safe to say I am a bit unforgettable every time I see any doctor.
The END....lol.

Extraordinary minutia continually eludes the frantic sensory overload of the average 20-30 yr olds. One must engage others, but to be barely able get in two sentences they better be profound. The outrageous. The grotesque. The repetitive vanilla pornography. All have desensitized the masses into a pool of drooling wet stains on boxer short already encrusted in pizza stains. One under the age of 25 will never embrace and relish in the simple serendipititous moment as I did one night when I walked into a random Tapas bar in Coppenhagen, Denmark on a Wednesday night no less. Never imagining that I would encounter a long table of 20 or so gentleman holding lyric cheat-sheets....drinking beer and belting out Righteous Brothers tunes at the top of their lungs. "You lost that loving feeling" in a Danish accent will be with me forever. The fact of the matter is these gentlemen have gathered at that same pub/restaurant every Wednesday night for the last 15 years. Singing ONLY Righteous Brothers tunes and drinking beer. That is as surreal yet profound event of sight, sound, and atmosphere. Like a movie platying out in front of you, but it's real. A Tangible little event in my life I will cherish forever,

October 29, 2014

I am sitting here enjoying my Moka brew. I get comfortable and decide to warm up buy opening Skatchbook Pro on my IPad 4.
But what before my eyes did see...Sketchclub opens it its place! Pinching myself to assure lucidness, I try again after a reboot. Again this apparition manifests once again. As anyone would do given the situation I rush to the Apple App Store to search for an update. Sketchbook Pro has disappeared from my purchases and as I recall it was a bit pricey. Chalk this up to the new IOS? I am bewildered.

December 3, 2014
WISH.... and the magic dumpster will provide. My son was desperately in need of a decent sized solid computer desk. Low and beholdon last night"s rounds....there it was. As some of you know you must go back 40 years to find honest to goodness real wood furniture. Which is much lighter compared to the mass produced particle board crap from China. This treasure before us was one of millions of such monuments to outsourcing. Be it so the desk was clean, solid and by some devine statistical or religious bonus it had wheels! That much particle board is extremely dense and heavy. The desk was not at the nearest dumpster either. Getting it to our abode was non eventful and easy. This gifting can only be explained one way. faith and good deeds. Earlier whilst waiting to cash out at the supermarket, a nun was before me in line. Frail, short, and a little slumped over. Impeccably adorned with a black habit and flowing while gown. looking down at her basket was a curious sight. 15 one gallon jugs of milk. Easy enough to explain. My immediate impulse was to ask the sister if I could help remove the jugs from her cart. She was very relieved and a bit taken back that someone in this day and age would offer help. The latent Catholicism within me is certain I was in her prayers. After all...my son procured a desk that night Okay? And that is all I have to say about that.

December 2, 2014

I have a critic! Won't tell you who it is, but grumbled in chat that I should never have been allowed to have such a long profile! Harrrrumph! Phooey on you.
Always the winter. Always random. A flurry of frantic activity will posses me for about two days. All family members become nuisances, obstacles, and flawed. These "fits" are not destructive. Alarming to the family members that get yelled at, but astounding things have come of it. The phrase of the day is "Everyone get out of my way!" . It might be painting the walls or rearranging the furniture. Always remember what the late Quentin Crisp said...."There is no need to do any housework at all. After the first four years the dirt doesn't get any worse. You are just moving it around." ( The Naked Civil Servant) The late Divine was heard saying "don't clean house...just redecorate".
I rearranged the furniture and sound system. Routers and HTPCs. The result is fabulous! Topped off the day with a race to the VW dealership right before they closed the garage for scheduled maintenance while test driving a 2015 Jetta TDI (diesel). On the way back to the bat cave I stopped at a local electronics store and yelled at them for running out of golden females ) a coupler for two RG5 cables). How dare they run out of golden females right before Christmas!

Magic Dumpster gave forth three Chinese laterns. Thank you foreign students!

middle of the night
I woke up from a dream. My son returned home from the magic dumpster bearing a newborn male infant. We told no one. Raised him and trained him all his life to become a super hero. You guys' fandoms are creeping into my dreams!

NOVEMBER 30,2014
The conundrums and frustration that sometimes consume the average SC supplicant must be as varied as the stars.
I never thought my nemesis would be a snowflake. In enough numbers the power to destroy. As a single entity a delicate and spectacular formation that starts with a dust particle that gathers water molecules around itself. This can only be explained in mathematical terms. Order and chaos. Basic snowflake geometry is a hexagonal crystal. I must decide the direction this challenge will take. Technical precision or whimsy.

PHOENIX ARIZONA - Back in '82 life was good. Life was laid back and simple before the age of computers. Working at a prominent design firm at the age of twenty four was ideal.
On a typical Wednesday at the studio as I sat at my drafting table the morning was uneventful up until about 9am. Phone calls started to coming in on both lines all expressing very similar sentiments in a shocked and frantic tone. "Kato! I thought you were dead!" (Kato being my nickname at that time in my life)
Zeke was late getting to the office. Now Zeke being high strung at the get go swung the front door open at a running pace yelling "KATO IS DEAD!" His face turned white as he turned left and entered my office. There I was with the same goofy smile as always. Clutching the daily paper in one hand, and expressing relief he shied me the headline.
Phoenix - A young man was shot and killed by local police as he fled on bicycle behind Safeway after a botched armed robbery gone wrong. The armed man has been identified as Steven Fischer; age 23 an investigation of the shooting is ongoing.
About 70 phone calls came in from clients and vendors alike on that day. Convinced I was young and stupid enough to try and rob a supermarket.
Our firm being well know for throwing a party for the slightest occasion did not let a golden opportunity pass without a brilliant idea. The following weekend after mailing out about 100 invitations we we threw the first annual "I Thought you were Dead" party.
Lucky for us one our prominent clients was a funeral home. We had gone out and partied with Chuck-the-Mortician on many occasions. We never called him just
"Chuck" it always had to be Chuck-the-Mortician. Having read the mailing he called and asked how he could be of assistance. Our imaginations were running on overtime.
It was a lavish affair taking place at our local watering hole. Chuck-the-Mortician did not disappoint. It was like a United Nations shindig, Jewish candles at every table and at the bar, a Korean sign-in funeral book. Slightly used (ahem) flower arrangements surely stolen from some recent dearly departed. Everyone brought food, but the real scene stealer was the scratch-and-dent baby coffin filled with scrumptious Hors d'oeuvres. Everyone wore black and we danced the night away.

November 22, 2014
A wonderful night of music. A rare luxury I this frantic apartment housing five adults with varied sleeping schedules. I've been an audiophile since the age of fourteen when I built my own speakers. So of course I have very nice audio equipment now as an adult. I won't give you brands or specs. That would be bragging. The lineup for the evening was as chaotic and eccentric as yours truly. Starting with a full run through of Pink Floyd's "Animals" LP followed by the operatic collaboration between Freddy Mercury and Monserrat Caballe' Live in Barcelona. Golden Earing's Moontan...the b-side followed by Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. The Tomita variations. Segway to the seventeen minute long live version of "Tobacco Road" performed by Johnny Winters.
Wagner. Yes indeed. As quiet time neared I only had time for Tannhauser excerpts. Just the March and the pilgrim's chorus. I have not listened to the entire opera since 1988. It's some three hours long, you see.
Finished the night off with "Mu Mu Land" by KLM. Vocals by Tammy Wynette just a month before she died. A whirlwind of sonic sensations that made for a very enjoyable evening.

November 22, 2014

With fair warning and on schedule a line of thunderstorms passed through the coastal area which in turn made me recall a peculiar superstition devout Mexican ladies had when I was growing up. The origins went with them to their graves. My aunts, grandmother and mom would all frantically run around covering all the mirrors with sheets during a lightening storm. They strongly believed that the reflection of lightening was just as deadly and ferocious as the real thing outdoors. Throwing all logic aside and relying solely on sensory cues it kind of makes sense. They were unshakable in their pursuit to keep the family safe.

November 10, 2014
In this microcosm that is called sketchclub there is but one God. BP (British Patroleum)? As far as I can tell, you see. Please correct me if I'm wrong. Wickedness is frowned upon. Swearing is Disneyfied. I am NOT allowed an expletive as common as phuck. Yet a challenge from five months ago entitled "Sweetpea is Concieved" is allowed through the gates. This is puzzling.

November 10, 2014
Something died within me this morning at 5am. Hope. The the ability to show restraint and composure under extreme duress. A frightening, ugly, and dark emotion manifested itself. Stirring from the very depths of my soul. I raised my fists against my own son with no forethought but only the irruption of years of pent up disappointment and disgust at the spiral into substance abuse in a very troubling and sad chain of events. I don't know who he is anymore. The root of his problems still eludes me. Is it simple facilitating? Is the Internet to blame? Is it the isolation? Is being the second child really such a repressive obstacle in one's lifetime? Having a driven and successful sister who just earned her BFA with honors? I cannot relate as I was an only child. A child of an abusive alcoholic Benzo junkie as have mentioned. I find myself re-living the fear. The unpredictability. Always the possibility of violence. The careful steps of waiting it out. A lot of verbal abuse that was never apologized for due to blackouts. The patience and caregiving that a child should not have to endure. So frequently in close proximity and fearful of physical attacks by an intoxicated single mom, This ties in with my son's altered states. I find myself regressing and reacting inappropriately in a childlike manner harping back to all those times when I would come home from school and mother had already gone through half a case of beer.
My son. A creative musical genius is in there somewhere. Deep inside, yet all I see is the fetid crusty stench of cheap malt liquor and the smells and visions of my mother.
Just shy of striking my son. Stopping because I know that if I crossed that line
there is no return. Interestingly enough it's not the deed itself. We even have a pledge that if he has been drinking, he is to stay as far away from me as possible with no interaction. If he would only be upfront. Walking in the front door and telling me he just bought a couple of pints of malt liquor and is going to his room, but no; he puts the booze just outside his bedroom window and after everyone's in asleep he sneaks it in as he has done dozens and dozens of times. There I no letting up from the lying. The deception. The excuses. The aftermath. Hiding all day. Mad and ashamed. His untidiness and lack of personal hygiene attest to his low self esteem..
Having dealt with my own mother for many many years, I can detect the slightest whiff of alcohol and what gets him extremely angry is he has never been able to deceive. Rack it up to being young and stupid, but he leaves slight physical evidence and clues that only the son of an alcoholic would pick up on.
Please do not suggest rehab. Rehab even with insurance is only for rich folks. I don't want advice. I don't want your pity. I am just venting. Dealing with this by writing helps.
All I know is something has to change. I'll be damned if I'm going to relive my early experiences all over again. I'm old now and the stress will probably shorten my life.
Before you ask. He is 23 yrs old. Has never had a job. Makes excuses NOT to attend even community college. My wife. A Midwesterner from Minneapolis stays in denial and would never think of issuing an ultimatum. Issues are just never talked about.
I can die happy. Now that one solitary supplicant proclaimed that my profile is the second longest booK, he has ever read! A milestone indeed,
9:55 CST - i'm drunk..........................

You will be able to tell that I got off my ass and went bought me some new styli. I was hanging on for dear life to what was supposed to be a superior stylus because it beared the name "WACOM" ha! Woven cloth applied to very soft rubber? So applying pressure made the sucker collapse. Not so good on those smooth turns on the IPad.
And then there are the Punjabies. Yes. The ones next door. Some I must say have a hard time adjusting to Amierican customs and decorum. Four freshmen right off the plane and planted in South Texas. Wow. They slam their door as hard as they can coming and going. Leaving a kind note and a few choice words bearing no forethought from the upstairs neighbor produced even louder slams. The of the four are meek and apologetic. Wouldn't you know it. Statistically the fourth Haji is an asshole. Their solution....scotch tape a little white towel around the frame of the door and tape the knocker rendering it immobile. ??? Further rather disturbing behavior has them, for a lack of a better term loitering around their front door and stairwell. Ready for more? Well, now that the weather is down in the seventies they leave their front door wide open. Who does that? The stench eminating from their abode should knock you over. This is not racists. It is the clash of four different colognes and antiperspirants applied in abundance creating a green mist floating out of their PunjabiCave everyday.
Daughter no. 1 happened to be out to her car retrieving something around eleven thirty when out of the shadows one of THEM uttered "What are you doing outside so late alone? My daughter froze with a desernable look of fright on her face. There was a pause. The he said "Don't worry....I'm not going to hurt you. Here are your future podiatrists and cardiologists folks! And that's all I have to say about that....
TODAY's Challenge - November 6, 2014
New Hamphire. Live Free or Die. I seized the day before they seized my car. If I may explain. Before leaving NH, for the 1.900 mile trip to Texas I though it smart to buy 2 brand new vehicles taking advantage of the fact that NH does not have sales tax on ANYTHING.
Arriving in Texas a year and a half ago, damned if I was going to surrender my NH plates and registration until someone drew blood. Flying under the radar six months after expiration, the local police are either too stupid or lazy to pay attention to foreign plates and their unfamiliar colored stickers. I could no longer chance detection as I evaded patrol cars several times in the last few months. Why drive around under these conditions? Well it is simple, Texas collects their own taxes on any vehicle that was fomally registered in NH. Depending on the local jurisdiction, my taxes due amounted to $2,000.00 calculating 8 1/2% sales tax. Yeah, bitch...I'm back in Texas! Did the deed yesterday. There be TX plates and registration on the seagull poop stained black conveyance.
I am free to drive wrecklessly again like all these other supplicants. Road rage with automatic weapons as it should be.

November 5, 2014 - What a fascinating thing is to be aware of ones own mental recall and the changes the ravage of time steals away crucial and accurate recall when needed. If I may give you a personal example. Breaking Bad. I watched the entire series. Season five was not that long ago. It took awhile to convince the wife unit that if ever there was a television series to watch in this lifetime it is Breaking Bad. Last week we sat and binge watched the entire series and to my amazement and realization I found myself actually not know what was going to happen next. On one hand is was pleasant that I was enjoying it so much as if it was all new to me. Concerned that I know in fact that I have seen it all before with no recall. Same goes with Game of Thrones. I remember a blonde woman in love with a Klingon. There were dragon eggs involved. They Hatched and grew up. oh, and of course there was a horny midget. Yes, you sensitive white folks. I said midget.. Get over it. I digress. During the viewing the kingdoms and plots were so complicated to me that I gave all of them my own special. Nicknames. The Vikings, the desert people, the demolition man society, the brat kingdom. The Egyptians, etc etc....Enough of that. Needless to say I could watch it now as if it was new. Yet ask me to tell you stories about Josephine Whitehorse. Granddaughter of the great Chief of the Dakota nation who babysat me almost 50 years ago and the things she taught me. I could go into very detailed and descriptive anntedotes and know in my mind that all I say truly happened. I can name you all my grade school teachers and the principal. The principal mainly because I sent to much time in her office. Every spanking. Every incident leading to said spanking. That was 46 years ago. And that's all I have to say about that!


Feb 9, 2015
I thought my traveling days were over. Not that I wouldn't travel again before I die, but I would like to do it on my own terms. But number one daughter has decided to marry. In Missouri. To be fair and honest HIS family wants them to be married in Missouri. I am going to drive the thousand miles. Why? The demeanor of most Americans is lacking in any social graces or decorum. Mix that in the atmosphere of an airport and the boarding process. The indignity one is put through. Well, you
get the picture. Mix in crying babies, alcohol, no personal space, and perfume/deodorant fumes so thick you can taste it. People stink. Literally. I will have none of it. The phrase "they couldn't pay me to do that" applies here. His family offered to buy two plane tickets to get us there. I respectfully declined.
Weddings are a huge waste of money. Unless that is of no concern for you rich white folk. My daughter was just fine going down to the courthouse for a generic civil ceremony, but NO. His family; well in particular his sister; insists on a church ceremony and reception and all that entails. She is having the time of her life planning this spectacle. She calls practically every day with questions on a particular detail. I refuse to fund this event in any way. That has been made abundantly clear. I'm paying for my gas. His family is even paying for accommodations for my son and I. Number one son-in-law is not so thrilled about this prospect himself. It's to make his mother and sister happy.
But wait there is more. My daughter's somewhat wealthy friends in New Zealand (thank you Skype) are buying the happy couple a Caribbean cruise as a wedding present. This will be in August. Said friends will fly in and meet up and they will all cruise together on a floating monstrosity with 5,000 other souls. Bless their hearts.
I know it has been a while since my last profile update. There has been a lull in generosity spewing forth from the magic dumpsters.
My entertainment this time of year is watching the migration of all the raptors come through. Yes you read right. All manner of Eagles, Falcons, Ospreys, and vultures. An eagle flying away with a stray cat in its talons is a sight to behold. indeed.
and that is all I have to say about that.

P.S. I won't throw rice. I will throw BBs
It has been a while since my last dumpster update. Like a beacon of joy in the middle of the night I was drawn to a bright white object across the parking lot. As dirty, nasty, filthy polluted, salty, fetid, and corrosive the air is where I am. One would expect the rusty and damp dumpsters to further damage or defame anything that has already had the indignity of being discarded. There is was. A pristine stuffed pure white polar bear. Not a speck of dirt on it. The stark contrast to the ugliness around it made me pause. Was this a sign of hope? Or a testament to the sallow, lazy and self absorbed generation that would toss away joy. Not even taking the time to acknowledge the chance to bring some happiness to just one child that has nothing. The one time of year when selflessness matters. The once chance to bring a smile to someone who has naught.


They would have been happy under some rocks
They would have been happy just wearing socks.
The Missouri folks would have not have this nonsense
So a grand affair was planned, ladies and gents.

Okay. As most of you know I have deep set catholic Hispanic roots.
A wedding is a spectator sport to some. A religious rite to many.
Huge waste of money to others. I do not deny that it is a milestone
In a couples life. His family knew no other way. They insisted on a traditional wedding.
The man my daughter married is moderately Christian. Without being
Blatant and expressing about it. He has is values. His code. And very much a routine oriented fellow. All and good. No drinking ever. Lives to please my daughter. Has her on a pedestal. So far so good. I dig it. My stand on these frivolities being made perfectly clear to the other party, I contributed nothing monetarily. In fact if I was in Mexico I would still be waiting for my three goats and two chickens. They flew the couple to Missouri and payed for accommodations. I myself accepted their generosity of two nights lodging. Nothing more. I drove the thousand miles there and back. I was the only family member from my side of the family in attendance. Even my daughter is of the opinion that giving the bride away is misogynistic. We did it for his family. Everything went as planned. There are no incidents to report. Rich friends bought the couple a seven day cruise in August as a present and honeymoon. They will fly to Florida to meet up with them and they all will have a blast and cruise together. How lovely. As soon as they got back I had my daughter wash a load of dirty towels and run the dishwasher. Everything came back down to reality in a instant. All is well again.

I was young. I was gorgeous. Finding myself on the 11th floor of the Royal Ialani overlooking Waikiki beach was just surreal. Yes I found myself a sugar daddy, but I was determined to be on my own within six months. The novelty of paradise soon wore thin. Traveling by bicycle all over the island one starts to see the cracks in the luscious facade. It was a promiscuous time, but also a time of apprenticing
and on the job training in my field. Graphic design. I took a low paying job at a typography shop doing markup, but also learning typesetting which was invaluable later on in life. The confusion of working then peddling my ass (literally) back into luxury overload. The sex got rougher. The demands more varied and dominant. Then having sex with another "twink" while he watch proved too much for me. I had met a pack of former Las Vegas showboys and snuck out one night for good and joined up with them. Splitting the rent as roommates for the next six months.
I was a victim of violence just once in Hawaii. The bad boys on the island were the Samoans. Gangs, drugs, robberies. They are big and mean. It was nothing major. I was just knocked off my bike by a passing car full of Samoans on purpose. I was young. I healed quickly. I soon met a wealthy gentleman from New York City. going stir crazy in an island 26 miles wide and 36 miles long was becoming unbearable. I gathered my meager belongings and flew to NYC with him and I lived on east 26th street and Park Ave. from one island to another. My New York adventure will come at a later time.

And that is all I have to say about that...

Sinks and trepidation by S J Fischer 5   2 Dec. 20, 2017
Field of schemes by S J Fischer 5   4 Nov. 23, 2017
Barbara and the drone by S J Fischer 6   2 Nov. 23, 2017
Parallels of change by S J Fischer 14   9 Nov. 22, 2017
Swamp whispers by S J Fischer 5   2 Nov. 22, 2017
Pardon my slumber by S J Fischer 5   2 Nov. 12, 2017

Low Tide by S J Fischer 9   145   87 April 23, 2014
Pour me a woman by S J Fischer 19   121   80 March 4, 2016
Boys in Trees by S J Fischer 9   76   43 Dec. 8, 2014
Abandoned Ghost Church by S J Fischer 4   79   50 Jan. 23, 2015
Bucket luck by S J Fischer 4   71   41 July 28, 2014
Tropical Dinner by S J Fischer 4   56   27 March 6, 2014
Passed out by S J Fischer 1   58   27 April 10, 2014
Applejack by S J Fischer 3   50   27 Nov. 9, 2014
Prickly Departure by S J Fischer 4   48   33 Nov. 17, 2014

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