Billy

I will shake new leaves

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For my Grandma who passed on Nov 24 2011

Journey well grandma
Meet you in spring
No more casting shadows
Nothing left to hurt
Love is your legacy
We are your lovingkindness
How we spend it
Scales our worth
We will be judged by love
when our sun sets
Until that harvest
may that peace keep you divine

 

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Finally the resistance

we should have written

a billion lines before

Eastern tsunamis crashed the capitalist feast

East fractured west

with the same broken record

Childhood's end

First world facade

Welcome to war street

The division bell moaning

atonal ponzi music

for hard days karma

and blood in our pockets to pay the cost

of diluting hindsight with illusion

Awareness cuts you deep

strips you raw salts the wound

bends your timeline

into non-linear madness

unfiltered madness

the warning bleed

before the fall of empire

The eyes of innocence 100% muted

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Breathe above the noise
for your signal to be clean
So when that time is ripe
You pick your karma
without censor or respite
With sweetness and spring revolution
in the malign of winter
Play mortal temporal
Find the key and fake the rest
Soul breaks the seal divider
Eternity floods the void
Immortal cream rises
to the roof of quiet
In the repository of everything
where hearts beat one word
and minds are speechless
Suspended out of id
into the persistence of eden

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You play hard
Your spirit blisters
I took the long way home
to cure my vagabond
Mostly about economics
and remorse skinning
Purging blood before the poisons heals forever
Psychic tearing in my hindsight
makes it hard to breathe without bleeding
Midnight scanning for flesh hooks
to anchor me till doomsday won't  work
The shadow man threw another punchline
I punched back hard
from Kings to Norwood
I threw down the gauntlet
and none was wisest
and am neither.

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I'll sleep when the dream dries

Life flips the colors

And we paint the moments

It flows like a river

bursting with music

burdened with beliefs

into a final burst of empty

Life bleeds without warning

into your half filled cup

Drink deep before your cup is full

The timeline canvas begs for excess

So I stretch it like a time junkie

riding the motherlode

I'll sleep when the dream dries

any day could steal the honor

the hour that kills

paints the greatest scene

I sleep into my best sky

finally haunted

Icarus haunted

before I crash the day

 

 

 

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And now I enter world again

into that crawlspace once more

The simstim comes flying

Relentless it mocks

Mischievous it maligns

Manifest destiny of primordial data

Evolutionary pixels painting consciousness

It stalks and prods and pollutes

The conformist fails

We are all afflicted

I don my gas mask in the simstim dust

when the haze threatens suicide

I listen to the sound of zen

and the understanding of relativity

My bones rattle

My soul ignites

My flesh rebels

My art transcends

in the skin of the gas mask  

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I screamed on the subway

and they fled from that decibel

Was it truth belching art?

or the proverbial stupor?

Mad art drives you insane

Smug humans bends your psyche

You choose your venom and spit

You aim for a bullseye

and if you hit the future

then you control the present

I keep swinging from the past and beyond

A bottomless anarchy leaking jackals

Better plug that leak poet

before the asylum consumes the room

 

 

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I watch the cop car sucks in

like the phantom

I never expected

 

Cop seeds entangles

from the cop pod

with nocturne vines

 

They bear their nodes

into the admission portal

Cop seeds planted in the door

 

And I never hear a sound

from behind the glass.

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Straphanging to the end of the world
The subway takes each to his own
We ride in strange finite time and secular space
Sometimes the line ends with chaos
the sweetener before humdrum
Imagine you almost snagged a panhandling prophet
imagine that a heaven beat
And the music sticks to almost every ear
tech strangers tethered to their vibrations
Conversation mostly mutes to the grinding wheels
but its always spinning in our heads
Sometimes I ride to unplug
I take a route to the end of myself
where my peripheral voice begins to speak
the purest soliloquy even
I gut the drama flay the stale skin
and strap back on to a fresher turbulence
Another ride promises each to his fate
You end where you end
leaving shadows to ride forever

 

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The raw rides hardest
on the back of alpha
silking the bohemian promise
There was never a better war
to tie up loose ends
of desolation angels
They call you to hunger
for the things they suicide
In the city their flames are coldest
Only pure binds that freeze
Only love bleeds that rigor
We dig deep and forbidden
We tag the void with bloodlines
for the zion express
Our canvas raw and uncut
dripping lava spewing planets
in the middle of the room
Tempting the architect
to peel back the eclipse
for a last forgiving sun bless

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Take zero

Scene now

Left turn

Soul cast

into the fate catcher

The pendulum sways

without respite

The hour glass

empties your dreams

Flesh burst

from the skin of the world

Sliced in infinity

Star blown Soul dust.

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Galactic Eavesdrop

 

Our time grows louder

than a cosmic birth

to the inevitable needle drop

before karma flips around

Silence threads the needle

to suture the galactic rip.

 

 

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The subway train screeched out of Manhattan towards Brooklyn and when
it was squirming directly underneath the bedrock of the East river,
thirty-five year old Charlie whipped out his cellphone and made a loud
call to his ex. The cab riders jerked to alert and examined the alien
in their midst.
"What the fuck he think he doing?" yelled a tough looking black kid.
"This fool think he calling in the subway? another taunted. " You can't
make calls in the subway?" Charlie grinned like the latest mega
millions lotto winner.
"Well I can make calls anytime the train is under the river.
"Hell no!" a hipster retorted, fingers instinctively reaching for the
proverbial cellphone in his pocket. Everyone else eyeballed their tech.
Their groan of dismay was unanimous and they all glared at Charlie who
was still shouting into the phone. A skinny woman flew up from her seat
shrieking like a banshee. Four hard knock riders joined her and they
barricaded Charlie against a door. They banged him hard against the
door. He kept on smiling. They grabbed the phone and grimaced. The
signal was four bars strong. A woman could be heard screaming from the
phone
"This sucker is telling the truth." "How the hell is that
possible?" "Give me this shit!"
A tall bald man with bulging muscles grabbed it then flung it away. The
phone was caught by a bespectacled skinny thing. Almost everybody in
the car fingered the phone and failed. The phone did not respond. It
lay dead in their hands. Charlie's smile blossomed. They gave it back
to him like it was an abomination.
"This is a voodoo Haitian phone my brethren," screamed a drunk who was
slumped on a seat by himself.
"Shut the fuck up drunk fool." Charlie shook with laughter and he
dialed again to continue his loud phone call to his ex.
No one noticed the ten year old kid texting and smiling in the corner.
They were too busy mind dismembering Charlie. And then the train
stopped underneath the river. And only two cell phones were emitting
light in the suddenly darkened subway car.

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Eclipsed Eye

Climbed into that wall hanging outside my back
trapped in that crawlspace of misdemeanor
Antennae engorged for Mayan signals
I corrected the approach of phoenix
In the embers of our eclipse
Lunar spilled a winter thorn
into the apple red

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Tactile Revulsion

In this our dystopian fright mode
my fingers displaces her atmosphere
She convulses and ferries the real to Charon
and preens for my avatar
I prep a social myth and hack in deep
She tags my wall and we hook up
I am king for the stretch of an IM
I am muted on the end of the last packet
He pimps for her avatar
They drag me to the edge of my acquaintances
I supply the red for an artificial bloodline
that haunts me even after a million disconnects
Here we strip naked in the big iron
but we won't touch the real
Here we blow peace and utopia
but the war has bolted your bedroom
Sometimes I catch her twitching in the market
she spills wide with revulsion
I try not to unplug when reality is imminent
I stitch my fingers to the keys and fake it

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Minaj Monster Inc

Nicki gutted Kanye's monster
She butchered the minotaur
with the sickest verse
since Hip Hop thirsted
for authentic blunts
From Curren$y to Khalifa
the new revolution skinned the norm
separated fresh from chaff
Minaj from Kim and hating kin
Monster rap from cooperate fizz
Straight up bleed flow
introducing Big K.R.I.T.

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spoken word techspeak into the heart of future breath

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Minaj Monster Inc

Nicki gutted Kanye's monster
She butchered the minotaur
with the sickest verse
since Hip Hop thirsted
for authentic blunts
From Curren$y to Khalifa
the new revolution skinned the norm
separated fresh from chaff
Minaj from Kim and hating kin
Monster rap from cooperate fizz
Straight up bleed flow
introducing Big K.R.I.T.

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My Friend Came Back From The Future

My cellphone rang like an omen in the early morning. I was stuck to my bed like a digital leech. The Linux netbook lay in suspension to my left side while the desktop computer repeated a nightmarish screensaver. I reached for the cell and missed. My fingers tipped it to the floor with it's digital lungs still screaming out. As soon I grabbed it, the phone went mute, then a voicemail kicked in.
On the cusp of dawn I walked up to Pitkin avenue to check Miranda. I met her distraught and smoldering.
"What's going? I asked. She threw her hands up in the air.
"I dunno where the fuck he is man."
"You said he went to the bodega to get a 40?"
"Yea at 2:30 in the fucking morning. Said he couldn't sleep. wanted to take the edge off."
"I know how it is man. I get the same urges." She watched me like I was an irritant.
"Not our fault, you know how it is." She looked exasperated.
"No I don't know how it is with you black men, just fucking find him okay?"

I hit up the bodega but they didn't know anything. When I called her to explain she slammed down the phone. She didn't speak to me for the next seven years. He called me seven years later. My heart nearly capsized and then hell climbed into my head. I cursed him like a gutter mouth whore but he responded in a zen like geeky voice. He told me to meet him in the nearby Starbucks. He was adamant about not revisiting his old haunts which also included my apartment. My temperature rose another whole degree but I agreed. It would be orgasmic to eviscerate him no matter where we met.

A completely different Terrence stood before me. He had rebooted more than three sixty degrees from his previous incarnation. I felt a tsunami shock hit me. Gone were the long dreads, hip hop clothes and paranoid fidgeting. His skin shimmered healthy and the Tattoos had disappeared. He wore geek glasses, brand new slacks and a yuppie shirt. He held a smartphone in one hand and a tablet PC in the other. I felt like a bug under his scientific stare and my anger leaked from my pores. He sensed my vehemence and slid onto the chair opposite me.
"Well what do you think?" he said. I tried to speak but nothing came out.
"What do you think man?" You are not going to ask me what's going on?" I flew up from the seat. A few people turned to watch.
"I need a fucking drink man." He just smiled and said.
"K I will wait there for you and explain everything when you get back." Starbucks turned to watch me leave.

When I came back he was gone. I ran to Miranda's but nobody was home. I banged on the door and kicked it repeatedly but nobody came out. Their phone had also gone dead. I was about to leave when somebody tapped me on the shoulder almost freaking me out.
"What the fuck?" It was an old Latino lady who lived in the next apartment. She handed me a strip of paper and slipped back into her hole. There was an email address on the paper. I grabbed a 40 ounce at the bodega, drinking it while I stomped back to my apartment. I wanted to be properly soused before I even touched the computer. I wanted to curse him to kingdom come and do it with the sickest vitriol ever written by a mortal. His email reply changed my space and time forever. My inebriation and toxic rage evaporated slowly into the ether like so many regrettable things.

The night Terrence disappeared he was thirsty like the desert. He had tried to chill on the booze on that day but the thirst returned with a vengeance after midnight. He tried to hold out but at two thirty he gave up. They were outside the bodega waiting, strange looking men grasping strange computers. They gave him a choice. He could keep drinking and fall further away into a black hole of the past or follow them to the future for a chance to detox forever and change his fate. He had chosen the latter. They made him stare into a sinister looking webcam and everything fell away. The bodega disappeared yet it was the same street. The bodega was now a tech building with technology that had not been invented yet. Machines cleaned and trained him for seven days in all kinds of subjects from Artificial intelligence and hybrid calculus to bio-engineering and Eco-ethics. He never slept and didn't feel the need too. He rested on the seventh day and returned that night. It was the only other time that he saw the men who had recruited him. They were his handlers and they brought him back to the exact hour that they had taken him seven years before.

I sat back from the computer and rubbed my eyes. I felt lightheaded. The room seemed to swim out of orbit. I needed another 40 ounce to pull me back to reality. I was about to logout when the email disappeared in front of my startled eyes. A new message immediately appeared. It stabbed me deep in that place where spirit and soul bleeds. I had no choice but to comply.

Terrence became my handler and I became his crisis. I came back eight years later effectively becoming the only recruit who had rested on the six day and finished his training on the seventh. He hadn't seen the bottle of malt liquor that I had smuggled in and despite the machines genius five days cold turkey had brought me to the edge of spiders crawling underneath my skin.

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Here it comes again.  School and all it's contradictions.  Get ahead to serve machina.  At least we raged against #Sopa.  My generation got balls of art and freedom.  We gotta keep them balls steaming.  Gotta stay wired for the storm luds will bring.  And we gotta get our lols always.  I need to do a video but I need new spaces.  It's stale in my kingdom.  The scene never changes.  Luds love stale.  Makes them feel safe.  Maybe stale inherits the kingdom and all the squares will shout for joy when innovation has rusted and no amount of tears will flush out the luddite poison.

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Guess 2012 arrived before we could blink.  But now is the time to wash your face and face forward.  Guess politics will be the agenda in America.  It's becoming less and less important to the rest of the globe who holds the key to the white house.  Empire has been replaced by corporation.  Who can bet against the Facebook or google or apple behemoths?  They own the keys to the social financial tech klout kingdom.  We are the tin cans on the shelves.  You are free to roll of when you want but there will come a time  when we won't even have that option.  Maybe time will end on the 21st and no one will be the wiser.  I started my year on a netflix binge.  School is out and there are thousands of movies to parse.  A lot of netflix clones itching for the big score.  A lot of em didn't give a shit about the customer before netflix changed the game.  Personally I hope netflix survives the onslaught.  I hope Sopa eats black holes and supernovas. Please leave our internets the hell alone. 2012 either we plunge into the void or get caught up in enlightenment. 

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2011 almost dropped out. will never walk this space and time again.  now comes the maya time. lost my last grandmother and grandfather this year.  we are always losing something.  when we stop giving we stop losing.  I hadn't seen my grandfather in a very long time.  I am guilty of that.  He faded when we were too busy.  What's the hustle about?  Where are we headed?  I know there's peace when we try harder.  I kick my ego once more.  Will try to bury it in 2011 and move my soul along. I gained more perspective and I lessened the fear.  We should listen some time.  

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If we all morphed into tech ninjas overnight would the net become a stale boring place to us? Does the net need a constant noob stream?

If we open up everything about ourselves to everyone else online would privacy even be a word? Would the authorities reinvent it?

If the american internet finally got strangled by big business and paranoid conservatives I wonder if the world internet would still flourish or follow suit into a paranoid digital death?

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My grandma passed on to the other side and we can only keep each other close.  So I hope it brings us closer. I know my dad wants that real bad but you can only do so much.  The will must be there to change the things in our lives that needs mending.  The world changes for the better when we change for the better.  There's no other way. I am keeping it real here.  I hadn't seen my grandma in a mad long time and I regret that.  Gotta make time for your peeps no matter the circumstances. We need to stand together against the monsters in our midst.  Journey well Grandma.  

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There's a new bodega on our block. A minute away from me. They sell the proverbial like any other bodega. Gives me more time to geek out in the crib maybe or spend more quid on the sweet cravings. Guilty pleasures they consume half of us and torture the other stronger half. As usual Linux is consuming me. Archlinux reveals something everyday. Now am tackling a troubling time and date issue. Whenever I reboot the date and time changes. I use the date command to correct that but I need a permanent solution. So far my google sniffing has yielded countless solutions but my problem persists. It's real weird how firefox tells me some trusted site certificates are suspicious when the computer time and date has changed on reboot. All is well as soon as I fix the date. I can noe access the sites with sans certificate problems. Eventually I will fix it opensource style. On a much more troubling note I see that the authorities are getting more draconian with the #occupy movement. Why can't they meet the masses at least half way? They must have a lot of contempt for us. It's the only explanation. We are not seen as worthy enough of their attention. They are too busy controlling everything. Which is a fallacy in itself because control has already been lost. Control is an entity. Unstoppable. Once it was set in motion there was nothing that we humans could do to turn back the clock. Not even the most powerful people on earth can deny that psychotic control. You ask any hateful fear mongering system brainwashed person about their contempt for basic human rights of the individual and they will watch you speechless. Ask the cop who pepper sprayed the peaceful protesters at UC Davis and he will say he was following orders. Who knows who ordered him and who ordered that person and so on ad nauseum. No one knows. Scary but true. Control has taken on a life of its own. Welcome to our nightmare.

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Rip ilya. This one is hard. We in diaspora will miss you. Don't  know what happened but journey well star.  Opensource lives on.  Federation lives on. In your memory we will change the social space.  These are the days of our lives.  Our work is never done.  We are the guardians of the new freedom.  The world needs us and we need all the help to fight the tyranny of barbwire ideology.

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Gotta say that Archlinux is running real sweet on my machine.  Real happy that I finally installed it after a long time of procrastination.  It is the distro for the one who wants to control everything.  In my case I have gotten more productive.  I installed my first tiling windows manager i3 and am loving it. Cli goodness rocking my world.  But seriously I needed that new interface to get more things done.  It's mad cool to be working in one grid and running IRC in another and mpg123 in yet another.  This definitely gonna be my Arch UI for a long time.  I know my Sabayon desktop is begging for it.  There are a lot of tiling wm's for Linux including scrotwm, xmonad, ratpoison and many more.  Give them a try for a different perspective on the UI. 

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My time lately has been a mad whirlwind school work hustle. So I finally got a reprieve after that last midterm.  No rest for the hustlers.  There's my other life to feed.  Art and tech lusting.  They never let me forget.  I better get to it.

#Occupy is the trend beast.  World is changing for better for worse for who?  I haven't attended a protest but am fascinated by the resistance.  We need empathy and understanding and interaction from every sector.  There's too much ignorance. We are in the same boat.  It sinks or flies because of our action.  Karma is neutral.  We make our fate. We can change our fate.

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Been going hard at Javascript.  Finally decided to hunker down and basically take my web dev skills to the next level.  So I started back with Javascript having pretty much forgotten all the good stuff I had learned before. Became real rusty so am sharpening the edge again. Definitely enjoying it. Feeling that positive vibe.  I pretty much prefer web programming.  It suits my mindset. 

I also edited my kindle poetry book and upoaded again. It looks real good up there in the amazon store.  This is the link.  http://www.amazon.com/Crooked-ebook/dp/B005G4GLZ8/ref=sr_1_20?s=digital-text&...

I will eventually publish a physical one but I hardly feel them anymore.  Digitalo has ruined my art. Nay. It's just a new way of creating the same old passionate art things.  Someone said that I should create an app with my poetry.  Sounds revolutionary. The idea is spinning in my head.

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there's a hoodoo man stalking me. he haunts in my desires. there's no throwing him off. i will have to disembowel his soul. he had me walk from kings to fountain but that was a good cleansing. i sweated. i humbled. never complained but took the torture like a poet. so am back on my game and there's a new glint in my mind. get that hustle. own that hustle. be the hustle. poetry and tech copulating in the hindsight. 

so i got mad work to do. school is hectic. life is a beast. tv fall season is starting to smell good. that's what's up. the music beasts how you wants it to.  

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School opened again with the proverbial freshmen noise. They will cool down soon enough when college demands what it always does. I am stoked to start grinding again like a true hustler.  Getting good grades is a priority.  Gaining wisdom and tolerance of other peoples is priceless.  My hustle takes me across three boroughs almost everyday. I got a weekend class too.  It worked out that way. I adjust my lens to capture the new scenes.  NYC is a hustle landscape.  Gotta be the best landscraper.  If the right money fell from the right tree tomorrow... 

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so did you find it? I could say I did and then there's all that that comes spinning outside the room. Unbelievable maybe. You were wrong yes. Humans are fable. Listen to the beat in the silence. It was a howl. Was I there? Not for a moment. Nothing. They knew. They never said a word

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Summer blew by me. I felt the rush, smelled the sun and felt alive. I haven't stepped in the ocean yet though I played in the sand. Will see if I break the spell this time. Three years since I dropped here in NYC. Three years since I ducked under the ocean.  Social media takes up my time but that is already getting stale.  And maybe that's a good thing. Classes begin next week. Must pull my face out of the social cesspool. Am I having fun there? Sure.  Does it matter? Not really. We are all wallowing in the ether. But you gotta participate. Here's a chance to speak your vision. Scream, rant, curse, cajole, blind, whatever. Do something, make a wave. Catch a surf before the sand never lets up.  

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Do we divulge too much info about ourselves online? Now Google wants us to give them our real names in order for us to use their brand new social network. What's the deal here? Is this about the psychotic vitriol that is spewed online by faceless spineless people slithering behind their monitors or is it about cash money?

I am an artist so I do want my work attributed to me that is my real name whenever I post it to the interwebs. On the other hand I would like to be able to hang out online using an avatar and whatever handle I want for this virtual body. I should be able to be female or alien or brick in cyberspace. Why should my every move on the interwebs be monitored by faceless overseers? I think this is about the mapping of everybody for some bullshit identification system. It sucks. I would rather hang out in the back alleys of the Internet rather than give up my freedom just to traverse a social network that wants to crawl up inside of me. I left facebook a long time ago with no regrets and no withdrawal symptoms. Freedom created the Internet now business wants to imprison it? Hackers will have to crash it for the business people to realize that the net was not built for them but for humans to use and play and connect and help each other. We know that there are sick ones who hate everything and use the net to amplify their madness. So the rest of us should pay for their madness by getting bar coded in the matrix? Filters can solve that problem. You don't want to read the vitriol in youtube comments? There is a filter for that. Geeks better step up and write smarter applications. People who use the net needs to get used to the idea of being smarter online. We need to know that everything is not always beautiful and shiny in the digital world. Ugly in the physical is the same in the virtual.

Wake up as the band Rage against the Machine screamed. Wake the hell up. The answer to ugly online is not the revealing of my every move online. Why should some random stranger be able to just pick me out in times square from my Google profile? Why the big push towards the end of anonymity? The net will fail if this downward spiral web 3.0 version gets initialize. And chaos will forever blaze from the darknet.

 

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Scary times in England. The fires are burning.  Angry youth is calling for the head of capitalism. The cops will never apologize for shooting Duggan. It's how it is. Bloody days of our lives. I take the now view. Staying as much in the present even if my nerves are getting frayed. New York messes with you on a whole different level. Pretty much kills your faith. Breaks you and then you become what they said you'd become. I don't know. It is a bittersweet feeling. But it's like why bother. Shit gonna happen. Shit gonna change. You wake up and the fear won you know. So you shift your gears and keep it mad real.  Money would keep shit together but eventually you still face the beast of human calamity.  Nothing you can do but figure out how to keep the riotous mind at bay.

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Seems that this year is my waiting year. Too many situations where I just gotta wait and wait. Now am waiting for that college to hook up my stuff for my hustle to start again. Am basically pissed. I don't understand their sick fixation on bureaucracy.  I signed the form so just fill it out and give it to me. No I gotta go home and wait for them to contact me. This is so silly.  So am waiting like a stranded ship and the captain has jumped overboard.  I see my summer ending and I watch it resigned to the absurdity and the futility of it all.  Just gotta inhale deeply and forget all that never will be.  Why fret over what will never be? Still am pissed and that won't change easily.

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Wisdom is the best meds to swallow.  Learn until you drop. Hindsight is the greatest.  I hit a snag recently and it was for the best. I feel clean.  I feel fresh.  Ready to attack the beast with mad energy.  Hung out in the city last night. The heat was paranoid but union square is my place. I recorded lots of video poetry using NYC as my backdrop.  I gotta be more prolific.  I gotta burn burn burn.  Google plus social network got me addicted.  I am always there posting and reading and just staring at the UI.  Google did good.  Giving FB a run for their money.  FB is running scared.  Diaspora is watching the drama with a geek's eye.  In the end nobody wins.  It's just data swirling in the digital wind.  I just want to use that mad interweb to spread my art.  The digital kingpins can duel to the death for all I care.

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bought the kit from interwebs to get my ears stretched.  shit feels good doing it.  i got a limit though.  i stop when that modern primitive is just right.  summer got me kinda disturbed.  i went on a roller coaster, did acupuncture for the first time. nevertheless all is not copacetic.  some things i can't spit here. the interwebs never forget.  at least i wrote a lot of poems recently and a cool short story i gotta hook up and tweak to the way i want it.  didn't forget you blog though there's neglect.  neglect is an ugly sin i know.  

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Now that facebook spits in the face of your privacy once more will you keep denying the ugly truth?  Are you that addicted to the vanity ego trip that you will allow them to tag you like cattle with their facial recognition engine?  Please don't try to hide from the implications. This does not bode well for the future social connect. Time to dismantle this prison before everyone gets snagged in the nets. Well if you don't see something sinister about this fine. I hope the sheeple out there will at least refrain from stealing the pics of those who still got the balls to say know to that prison machine. I don't need serial killers stalking me because you felt the need to preen and swag for the camera.   I wonder how many photos is enough?  Maybe after a thousand you will get the ugly truth that it is the same you. The angle does not matter. It is the same you. Photoshop can't change that.  It is the same you. Always was. Get a soul pic even.

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