Interesting pictures:intense observation

Dearest Odyssians,


To really see what’s going on sometimes you have to change perspective.


Amazing landscape photography: solo ventures

Dearest odyssians,


Yesterday we detoured from our beloved rum and took a beating for our betrayal the entire day.. om looked,  and felt,  like golum in his darkest cave -after losing the ring..  No more sweet fancy expensive froofroo cocktail drinks for us.  Our old mainstay Bacardi gets the job done and doesn’t torture is for it with hangovers, headaches, chills, nausea,  etc…
Alas, we are recovered. And managed to key in a decent and funny blog. Hope you all are well.
Goodnight. .. Hugs o and om
*photo by ben k adams
His site:

basking in revelation

dear odyssians,

here i am, still basking in the glow of my newly birthed blog. Ive already gotten some wonderfully positive feedback.

Though the complete question will not be a daily blog like eyesofodysseus is, I still find it an important enough forum to visit several times a week. Ive already found so many great pictures that seem tailor made for the story. more fate. more destiny. im loving it.

on a different note. i had a very interesting dream this morning. (i always dream best in the am hours. my new job has taken a shot gun to what were my best hours of dream since i get up unreasonaly early.. making the fact i was able to have this morn’s dream all the more suprising.)

in my dream i went back in time to when i was 16. more precisely, it was like the person i am now (knowledge, mental state, experience and all that good stuff that comes with age) was transplanted into my 16 year old self in the 90s. i was able to see  my friends for the kids they were. i was able to see my physical self and appreciate my youth. i looked so young back then!  it was a wholly thrilling experience that lasted not long enough im afraid.

during my time back in the 90s i had a few key thoughts about what i had to do that year.

a. did chicago win the nba championship in that year? time to place tremendous bets on all things bulls and make some serious money.

b. tell a now long lost friend of mine to not drink the vodka at the cabin that led to her assault and chronic health issue.

c. tell my dad to take the job offer in switzerland (he never did in real life and still holds regrets about staying in amerika)

d. take my young self on a completely differnt path. quit soccer. drop out of ap chem and physics, take up art and immerse myself in writing.

i often ponder what it would be like to go back to the 90s or early 2000s and get a better head start on all the stuff im struggling to finish now. hell, an extra 10 years on my current projects and one of them might actually have gotten the fuck done by now. but the trade off of going back in time with what i know now is that i couldnt take the transcripts with me. writing that has taken years and years to not complete. ha yes thats a joke. but its true.

the novel must be 800 pages. the one that now sits in  a box.

the play must be another 600 easily that ive written on it. and its simply not good enough.

the art is years away from being at the level where i’d feel comfortable putting it on a wall.

the urge for me to perfect everything is crippling anything getting done.

crippling perfection. thats my motto. crippling perfection….

hoping to get past that and publish something in some version.

when i was 14 we had to write a mission statement about what we wanted to be. “i have a dream” something along thoselines.

and i said.

“the road might be endless and the journey might be long but someday i will be a writer and i will say, ‘i used to dream of becoming what i am today”.

i dont feel like that goal will be met until my work is published and has a title and a name. and i can show it to other people. that goal eats at me like a festering unhealed wound.

please lord have mercy. and give me the strength to survive the creation process. to look past the need for perfection. and to grow the ********* one needs to publish something of merit. caca on paper simply wont do..

thats  produced dialy and goes down the toilet.

-odie mama.

(i almost wrote my real name in the sign off…fancy that!)