ix

 The ground was damp with the fragrance of trees in the fall of 1991 and the sun rose on New York City in shades of autumn gold.

It was my first day at the university that vaguely distracted a heart to be with a painter who wanted to marry me. She wrote my mission was to make her my wife.

Later in the wintertime, I fell in love early on a Sunday morning with programs at the computer lab. I made up my mind to switch from art to the art of algorithms.

The future was about to happen in my past life. I keep working at perfection.

I go back in time to use creative vision to fuse wrecked memories of my own 9/11, which is the birthday of the woman I loved, to make platform to elevate the better angels of human nature in pursuit of higher education and peace on Earth.

I had a dream for the city that never sleeps and beyond borders

I submit this to the future of history.

I was here.

http://admericaintechnicolor.blogspot.com

Please excuse me. I have to recharge now

Creativity

This true story begins with children working on developing Artificial Intelligence at Public School 161 in The South Bronx. Hard to believe without evidence but WPIX News on Channel11 has the film footage for your review.

In this story, there are real heroes and Marvel super heroes children painted on the walls of Saint Mary’s Recreational Center that suffered budget cuts as reported by mild-mannered reporters at The Daily News. 

One of the kids held up a picture he drew of a dog barking at a UFO landing in the park at night.  Good luck with getting adults to believe you, kid.

A New Post reporter came up to me and showed me UFOs that appeared in front of the building I was almost made homeless by the new landlord.

The UFOS were on the front cover of the newspaper founded by Alexander Hamilton.

This story really begins with making a wish to live life like a Great American Novel that reads like a comic book.  Be careful what you wish for. There are no great stories without heartbreak and no refunds for answered prayers.

I was in the mood for a musical when La La Land caught my eye at the public library.

 It is a movie people in my neighborhood don’t care for because it makes them wish they were born white. 

The next day, I danced like I was the Jedi son of Tony & Maria from West Side Story. I danced on the industrial side of The South Bronx by The East River twinkling sunlight.

I danced on my way to FEDEX to pick up an Android. I got hit on the head by a forklift.

City of stars, are you shining for me? I looked up into an angry sun as blood dripped down my face. A Puerto Rican sheet metal worker asked me if I knew what year it was. Why did he want to know? Did he get hit in the head too?

It is the year 2101 AD.

There are no more guns or weapons of mass destruction. Nations are working together in peace. Global warming has been averted.

America and North Korea are the best of friends.

“Yeah, he definitely needs an ambulance,” said the sheet metal worker into his cell.

To Be Continued

MRI of my brain by New York Radiology

Conceptual art by my brain

http://admericaintechnicolor.blogspot.com

Paste Taste Test

 

Sail Away

December 31 1976, a minute away from The New Year…

Dear Future Danny,

I hope this message finds you/me in a world free from evil.

If not, let me know.

I can use a laugh.

Welcome To The Season Finale Of Tele-eclectic @dmeric@:

My Re@l Life @s @ Comic Book

Chapter 888: Parallel Parking On The Alternate Side Of The Universe

When I was a boy, I looked at an eclipse with my bare eyes in The South Bronx of burnt out buildings.

A strange thing happened afterward.

A bright light appeared in front of my bedroom window, as did a hurricane inside my room that scattered my comic books around and other objects.

I was being pulled into the light.

It was sheer force of will that prevented the little boy I was from disappearing into another dimension.

I wasn’t ready for a new reality.

This is the persistence of my memory. 

I recall being gifted with photographic memory and creativity in childhood.

I remember doctors that wanted to administer a new drug designed to dissolve a gland in the head of the little boy I was.

(As it is called in The New Millennium, was it the mysterious God Gland?)

I stared into the eyes of a doctor.

He didn’t give me the drug.

The hospital where it happened was destroyed.

The land was later converted into parking lot of sorts for The NYPD

Decades later, in the year 2015, a young American man tried to get inside the building my mother has resided in since the time of illegal break-ins at The Watergate Hotel.

 He identified himself as Mark Wilson, a reporter for The New York Post.

He wanted to interview eyewitnesses to several bright lights across the building that hovered for a few seconds before taking off at unbelievable speed.

I studied the pictures on his cell phone. The lights were familiar to the boy I was.

Mr. Wilson, I am sure you are reading this, as I am sure of scientific evidence to prove aliens have been on this gem of a planet for thousands of years.

One of the aliens is called Poverty.

Make with the mild mannered reporter thing and help change the world for the best.

I am transmitting this message from a public library in The South Bronx.

Afterward, I will go out into the street and look into the eclipse.

I wasn’t ready to leave the world when I was a boy.

I’m ready

Now

MRI of my brain by New York Radiology & conceptual art and text by

D@niel @ngel @ponte

Copyrighted 2017 My Re@l Life @s @ Comic Book

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