OgFOMK ArTS Issue 10 Interactive PDF

Issue 10 (We Think)

October 2017

Inside Cover

Contents and Credits: Cover………….………………………...Past Zines

By Alex Nuttall Inside Cover……...….…………………... Drawing

By Alex Nuttall Page 3…………....……………… TOC and About

By Alex Nuttall Page 4.………….…....Future Beyond Placement

By Alex Nuttall Page 8 …………………………………..The Pearl

By William Hawkes About OgFOMK ArTS is the Constructive Technology Aggregate for Optical Graphic Fabrication of Manufactured Kinesthetics. We specialize in the arts, technology and communication. Our team is comprised of several talented artists, essayists, researchers and industry professionals.

OgFOMK ArTS is a "Rolling Release or Distribution" which means that we are constantly updating content, creating new content or retropublishing legacy content. Seen as an outlet for our portfolio works, desires, passions and quirks OgFOMK ArTS continues to expand. We have been in business since 1987. We have worked in publishing, construction, documentation, promotion and marketing services.

OgFOMK ArTS Publishes the works of artists, poets, writers and researchers. Currently our focus is to return to the arts by the web and create honest content that is a positive influence on the world. We like to empower others to do the same. Essentially this is the cave where we paint the pictures of the hunt. We visualize the goal. We execute. For us the goal is creating new and fresh content or releasing retro-content that may in fact bring about better ideas and consciousness. A lofty goal. We know.

OgFOMK.com

Page 9 ………….…………Japan- "Bear Slaying"

By Mykel Board Page 9………………Man on a Lead - Barcelona

By Gertrude Jewel Page 9………..The Black Ink Series - Drawing 2

By Lon Bennett Page 10…….Tubing in Scottsville VA with Clyde

By Cristy Johnson Bowen Page 11……………………………………Needles

By Tom Deans Page 12…………………..Drawing 4 "Turtle City"

By Lon Bennett Page 13………………Heritage Monitoring Scout

By Verna Peddi Page 14……………………………What I Noticed

By Alex Nuttal Page 15…………….OgFOMK ArTS Studio Work

By Lon Bennett Back Cover..………………...…….….Ink Drawing

By Lon Bennett

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 4 Future Beyond Placement (A Pack of Lies)

By Alex Nuttall

Placement

comes at the price of coincidence. As many times in life we want to believe that the situation is mightier than the will. The will of course is what moves one foot in front of the other.

Bob Davis called me this afternoon.

So what made Bob want to call me? We haven't spoken for years. Count that as a decade. Decimation of bridge. Water still intact. My cell phone displayed a Washington, DC 202. Was the president calling? No. It was Bob. "Hello?" I answered.

"This is Bob Davis." Bob broke immediately into a conversation we had on an airplane leaving Pennsylvania back in 1999. That's where I met Bob. I was on my way back to Virginia from Fort Indiantown Gapp. I went to an NCO school there and I had just finished Primary Leadership Development. It was cold then.

"Alex..."

"Bob, how are you! How did you get my number?"

Bob, I remembered vividly. I had not thought of him for a while but that plane trip was unforgettable. I sat next to the emergency door because I liked the legroom. Bob was the passenger beside me. We were on a 727 which to me is like a school bus with wings. It was not yellow but just as good at finding air pockets in the sky as a school bus sans shocks was able to find the potholes in the road. Constant jarring flying the friendless skies.

He struck up a conversation with me upon take-off. He was an amicable fellow. He told me about his law practice and why he like Pennsylvania's Three Mile Island. Everything we talked about eventually got back to one thing: Bob did not like to fly with anyone. His misanthropic rants were part of who he was. But for his friendly posturing, Bob loathed people. I just listened and smiled as he went on about everything that he felt, believed in, or was convinced I should know. At the end of the flight we touched town in Newport News, Virginia. Bob gave me has card and asked me to call him if I was ever going to Northern Virginia. I said I would.

A year later in 2000 I was heading to Richmond to go the Virginia Fine Arts Museum. I wanted to see the Faberge Collection and the Eastern Art exhibits.

In the museum I spotted Bob discussing the Buddha statue with a woman maybe 10 years younger than him. I guessed that Bob was 45 at the time. He was a different man. His head was shaved and he lost maybe 25 pounds. His 5' 10" frame looked healthy. He was the same height as me. I remembered him as a small fat man. I had never seen him standing face to face.

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 5

Bob didn't recognize me. I just passed him by and went on to another exhibit.

That was the last time I saw him.

"I got your number from Anne Draves.

She works with my old firm. She's a detective."

"Uh huh." I said "She does collections for us and she came across your name in a debt that was sold to us. I told her that your name sounded familiar. You know, you really aught to stop using Bank of America.

They are just socking you with fee after fee." He finished.

"So let me get this straight." I began.

"You quit your firm and you know my number and your Anne has found it and me and I need to stop using Bank of America. Is that all?"

"No, there's more. I am coming to Norfolk and I want you to show me around."

Great. I was blown away. I'm not even a Bank of America customer. I don't owe them a damned thing. Here is someone I barely know. Someone who knows a lot about me in a wrong way. I was wondering how he got my number. I figured it was a ruse. I was more than suspicious. I hung up the phone after politely saying: "Good bye, Bob." I turned off my cell phone. Now I was worried.

So I went for a walk.

Olde Towne Portsmouth is a lovely place in the evening. Across from us divided by the Elizabeth River is Norfolk.

I saw the buildings of Norfolk reflected on the water. Why did Bob, or was it Bob, call me? I kept walking along the Portsmouth board-walk.

It was then that the ferry passed me.

Chug Chug Chug the fake paddle-wheel turned. It served no purpose. It was a faux ferry wheel. Useless. As I rounded the corner to High Street the ferry and I met. I watched the passengers debark.

There was Bob. He recognized me. I don't know how. I looked quite insignificant and stupid. I wore a watch cap with "NY" stitched into the side. I had a knitted grey scarf around my neck. I wore what could be called very ugly hip-hop baby-shit brown pants with useless zippered pockets on the side (so you could take off the pants and slip them into a small square inside out). I had a dark gray fleece jacket that was xxxx large. I didn't care. I was warm.

Bob didn't care either. He knew it was me.

"Alex, wow! I am so glad to see you." It didn't matter that I hung up on him. Now it also didn't matter that he found me. It didn't matter why. He found me.

"Hey Bob." I answered in my usual warm fake way that I was wont to do for a positive reaction from someone I did not want to see.

As he was leaving the dock he approached me standing near the entry to dock. The Christmas lights looked great. The air was cool. I was warm under my fleece. I held out my hand to show I did not have any weapons. Bob shook it warmly. His hands were not soft. My hands were. (continued...)

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 6

Future Beyond Placement (A Pack of Lies) continued...

"I knew I would find you here. I was on my way to your house."

"You know where I live."

"Of course. Anne told me."

"Well Anne is right about some things and wrong about others." I told him.

"Look I am trying to enjoy my walk. I love my walk. This is why I live here. I am a water baby and water babies need to see the water. Walk with me."

We headed north along Water Street toward the Lighthouse Ship. As we passed the Federal Building I looked to see who was smoking there.

Always some idiot was smoking there. Day or night there is always some federal worker smoking there. It always stinks. The cold still air brought the smoke to my big nose. I inhaled the waste waft.

Bob was on my right hand side.

There was enough room on the sidewalk for both of us. He was quiet until I stepped across the street toward the Light House Ship. Then he began to chatter as we entered into the little park, monument, Lighthouse Ship concrete mooring.

The ship was parked in concrete. The keel was secured for generations to enjoy.

"Do you remember our flight from Pennsylvania?" Bob asked.

"Yes" "Do you remember how angry I was about everything."

"Yes" "Well I am an attorney and I was so scared about flying I decided to make a game up of sophistry and manipulation. I wanted to push your buttons. Instead you just laughed or smiled at everything I said and somehow managed to always bring it back to a positive light. I went from being bored and scared to enjoying the game with you. What's funny is that you didn't realize I was just trying to get you to take a stand. I wanted you to take an issue. I thought that since you were a military guy that you would be a hyped-up anger machine waiting for someone to challenged your red-white-and-blue.

When I first saw you you sat up straight staring at the wall reading the emergency exit instructions. I said hello to you as I sat in the seat beside you and you didn't even look at me.

You just stared at the wall look at the pictures and instructions."

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 7 "I like to know what I need to do if the plane crashes. I had the exit seat. It's a lot of responsibility." I answered and then I stopped. We were at the board-walk again. I put my hands on the rail and looked at the shipyard across the water. Someone was wielding.

Bob was still on my right side. He looked at the ship too. I turned to Bob and said, "Do you think that is a good job to have?"

"What, working on a ship?"

"Yeah."

It was night time and someone was wielding on a Sunday night. The drydock was mostly quiet. We could hear the water lapping at the seawall.

We could see the brilliant flash every few seconds. Someone was working over there. Was his or her job a good one?

"I guess its good." Bob answered. "If you know what you want you can work at anything to achieve your goals. If that is the case, then its a good job."

"What do you want, Bob?" I asked.

"I want to tell you that you made an impression on me that I just could not shake. Now I want to thank you."

"You're welcome." I walked away from the handrail and sat on my favorite bench. I liked this bench because it was wrong. It was placed 5 inches away from the sidewalk bolted into two little concrete pedestals that were about 6 inches lower than the curb of the side-walk.

You could sit there with your knees almost level with your chest. I like to think of it as one of the architectural features of Portsmouth incongruity.

Bob sat beside me. Bob was now on the emergency exit side.

I reached in my pocket and turned on my phone. One missed call. It was Bob. No use in keeping my phone off now. Bob began to thank me some more.

"Our conversation started to change the way I approached things. I was confused but delighted. Everything I thought about was mostly intelligent and educated, but I realized I still had to learn more. You were this Army officer who I realized would probably become a great leader of men."

"I wasn't an Army officer. I was an Army National Guard specialist who was flying home from a two week training school." I corrected his keen observation.

Ten years of assumption. "I served in the National Guard for 5 years and after you met me I was finished with it a year later.

Don't get me wrong, I was a serious guy, but I was almost 30 years old and that was all I had at the time. I just made the most of it."

After I finished my great confession. I looked at him.

(Continued...)

Future Beyond Placement (A Pack of Lies) continued…

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 8 The Pearl - Tomorrow's Qatar, today!

"Oh." Bob was silent for a while.

Now it was my turn to babble.

"Bob, I am sorry to disappoint you but I have to get on with my walk." Bob didn't know anything. He was a monkey with a sword. I sensed that he was dangerous, but I had disarmed him. I didn't have to worry about Bob any more. I stood up with a jerking motion so I could get the momentum to achieve vertical dominance. I turned to him slouched on the bench. I bent down and shook his hand. He looked puzzled but not hurt.

He would be OK. He shook my hand. I walked away to the north again. The ferry passed by me to go to land at the second Portsmouth dock. The ferry ran every half hour. I didn't turn around. I just looked at the ferry and its stupid paddle wheel.

When I arrived back at my house it was 21:16. That's what my watch said. I was forty years old. That's what my brain said. Bob had found me in the future beyond placement. To him it was all a pack of lies. His game was finished. Bob would be OK I am sure. I would be OK too. Anyone could find anything. Who needs Anne? She might have been part of the game or not. Regardless of what came about this, I knew that I was not loosing any sleep over it. I was not important enough to make a dent in anyone else's life. I was just another biped full of thoughts, ideas and misconceptions.

Fiction by Alex Nuttall, title: Future Beyond Placement (A Pack of Lies), Original Date: 20101128 – © Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 2010 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170805.

The Pearl... Tomorrow's Qatar, today!

Once you drive over the bridge to The Pearl from downtown Doha, you are transported to the future. The Pearl is a man-made island that juts out into the Persian Gulf, much like The Palm in Dubai.

Qatar is slated to host the World Cup in 2022, and is undergoing a facelift country-wide. The Pearl, much like Downtown Doha, is a shining example of the forward thinking and social progressiveness Qatar is known for today. If you want to understand what Qatar might look like when the World Cup rolls into town, look no further than The Pearl.

The Pearl is a veritable playground for the internationally wealthy and the common man alike. I myself, enjoyed fine Cuban cigars after days full of luxury shopping, sightseeing, and decadent meals. If you are an admirer of fine automobiles, brace yourself; for you will encounter everything from the newest model Rolls-Royce, to a barely street-legal McLaren! The Pearl is undoubtedly Qatar's nod to the future of the country, dripping with opulence and shining with the warmth of it's people's smiles.

© William Hawkes / OgFOMK ArTS -2017 All Rights Reserved. Photo - "The Pearl... Tomorrow's Qatar, today!"

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 9 Mykel's Photos - Japan- "Bear Slaying"

The Black Ink Series - Drawing 2 "Toothache"

By Lon Bennett

The Ainu people are the original native Japanese. In Japan, they occupy a position similar to the American Indians in the US. Unlike their American counterparts, however, the Ainu are not worried about "cultural appropriation"-- they enjoy it when other people celebrate their unique (and bear-oriented) culture. They don't mind showing it off right next to a Coke machine... or dressing me up in traditional Ainu attire and having me slay a wooden bear for the camera. © Mykel Board / OgFOMK ArTS -- 2017 All Rights Reserved. - Mykel's Photos - Japan- "Bear Slaying" "Mykel As Ainu"

© Lon Bennett 2017 All Rights Reserved. - The Black Ink Series - Drawing 2 - "Toothache"

Man on a Lead - Barcelona 17. Aug. 2017

By Gertrude Jewell - Bio Having led; He no longer wants the lead Best of friends, companions for the duration He no longer labors at the corporation Strolling along the shoreline Devoid of pressure, released from obligation Wanting nothing further than the sunset, shore and contemplation

© Gertrude Jewell / OgFOMK ArTS -- 2017 All Rights Reserved. - Barcelona - "Man on a Lead"

Tubing in Scottsville VA with Clyde 19 Aug 2017

By Cristy Johnson Bowen We recently went on a tubing trip with a group of friends. It was in Scottsville, Virginia through a company called James River Runners. They had a pretty sweet setup. A parent of one of our group of friends decided to go with us. He had some reservation as to if whether he could make it through.

The younger generation was excited about him going and encouraged him to join us on our adventure. We had a great weekend of bonding and getting back to Nature. Clyde at age 75 learned how to play beer pong with us. He was a trooper. He hung in with us all the way down the river.

But this is not really the story that I am here to tell.

This is a story about generational perspective.

We were all more than willing to take care of Clyde. After all, he had taken care of us for so many years. He had treated us as if we were all his very own children. With all that is going on in the world today Clyde had become increasingly pessimistic about the younger generation and what our world is in for.

The following is a quote from Clyde after his experience with us on the trip: "All in all the experience gave me a good look at the past generations of children we've raised. I have to say that we did a good job on this bunch.

They watched me like a hawk. If the old man went under there were at least three or four of you all pulling me back up. I was impressed.

Actually our old parties were rowdier. Good bunch of kids" It's people like Clyde that know that it takes a village to raise a child. He knows that he has nurtured a generation that cares about and respects the hard work that our "families" did making the world a better place.

Tubing in Scottsville VA with Clyde © Cristy Johnson Bowen/ OgFOMK ArTS -- 2017 All Rights Reserved. "Tubing in Scottsville VA with Clyde" A short essay and journal entry into family values, generations and travel with Clyde to Scottsville, Virginia.

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 10

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 11 Needles 29. Jul. 2017

By Tom Deans Yea, I stick a needle in my arm. So what.

For 70 straight months I have done the same ritual and I am not likely to stop. I didn't want to and it's certainly not like I enjoy the feeling it gives me. I do however enjoy the boost it provides to my depleted finances.

I give blood plasma, or rather I sell blood plasma. It has become the same process twice a week all within a system of a business model that helps save lives and puts a little money towards gas and bills. Wanna know the most important part of this little story? I have made over $30,000 doing it and it’s tax-free.

Oh I don't fashion myself a hero by any means.

Plasma does great things (so I'm told). I just know that when I plop down in that chair sitting beside many familiar but nameless faces I will put on my headphones and settle in for an hour of bloodsucking fun. I notice many of those around me watch that needle right into their arm like they are visually guiding it or maybe just intrigued to see the piercing. Not me, I know where that thing is going. I have watched years of slasher movies without fail, but have no desire to see any medical procedure, especially not on me.

A specialist does the work, a phlebotomist. Truth be told some are better at their craft than others.

Is it painful? Not really. It will be a pinch-like feeling sometimes but the most skilled "sticks" can go completely unnoticed. If it hurt that bad I would not have done it over 500 times.

Each visit is the same process of setting up "the machine" that will draw your liquid life-force in, spin it at a high speed like a washing machine to separate the red blood cells from the clear plasma, then return those reds to their rightful owner. It is a very safe and sanitary process complete with pre-wrapped one use needles, clear tubes and receptacles. Plasma can be rebuilt within 48 hours in your body and the cause can be helped by eating protein-laden meals before and after your donation. My best advice? Stay hydrated. Water builds blood and it flows faster when you have that hydration. If you are in that chair longer than an hour your poor water consumption is the likely cause. And I don’t mean drink huge gulps at the water fountain as you enter the building. That will just make for an uncomfortable cross-legged time during the donation. This is a must the day before.

Once the needle is inserted, you will go through a series of "cycles" 4-7 minutes of blood drawing will be followed by a ten second pause and then 4-7 minutes of blood return. This will repeat until your 880 ml of plasma is collected. A gauge on the machine is easily viewed to show you a red light for "no flow", yellow for "slow flow" and green for "good flow" during the blood drawing phases and light also alerts you of the return cycle. A steady clinching and releasing of your fist helps circulate the blood during the draw cycles and is highly advisable. Relax your hand during the return phases. I am sure to raise my hand for help if my light indicates no flow because a slight adjustment is needed to either my needle or there is a kink in the line. It's no cause for alarm and is quickly remedied. You'll also be in clear sight of your plastic bottle to watch your collection of your plasma as the time passes.

My plasma is usually a highly watered down caramel-looking color. Sometimes it is tinged with yellow. Apparently both are normal. I've seen dark green in the bottles of others so I questioned the phlebotomist and am told that usually indicates a high fatty diet or medication like birth control pills. Or they had a nice bender the day before.

A busy day may have you waiting with 30 others to get in and then seated with another 40 in the rows of reclining cushioned chair/beds. You'll have to go through the same process of computerized questions that include, "Are you feeling well today?" and “Have you donated blood in the last eight weeks?" After that you'll meet with a screener who will check your pulse, temperature, blood pressure and blood protein.

The latter is determined by a finger prick test that fills a toothpick-sized glass vial and then viewed under a microscope. All the tests have an acceptable range that allow you to enter the promised land of donation. Anything out of the range requires you to sit in the lobby for 10-15 minutes and then allows one more shot at passing that required number. Blood pressure reading too high is usually my culprit for my medical "timeout" but a fast pulse got me once as well. I quickly learned that 4 hours of yard work in July heat immediately before plasma was not conducive to an acceptable pulse. A low blood protein score or a second failed pulse or blood pressure reading will garner you a "deferral" which is fancy for "come back tomorrow and try again".

(Continued...)

Needles (Continued…)

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 12

You'll see all sorts of people in there. A very diverse crowd of race, gender, nationality and socioeconomic background. Some are loud and fast-talking while others are reserved and content to quietly watch TV or read a book.

Texting on your phone is allowed but talking on it is strictly prohibited. Most, like me, are listening to music on their headphones to pass the time.

Though I do tend to skip some songs like The Smithereens' "Blood and Roses".

After the bottle is filled with your plasma, the final return cycle brings your blood back mixed with saline. This will help replenish much like a blood Gatorade. A final beep indicates you are done and you raise your hand for the phlebotomist to remove the needle. A small bandage is placed over the entry point and you are free to go. Don't worry, you will not feel woozy or dizzy. Your money is automatically loaded on a prepaid Visa card and you are able to use the funds minutes after exiting the building. You can only do this twice a week. My location currently pays $25 for the first donation in the week and $50 the second. They back-load it to encourage you give your maximum amount of donations. 8 donations in a month garners a handsome bonus paid on the 6th, 7th and 8th time. That’s how my $30K has really accumulated!

The Black Ink Series - Drawing 4 "Turtle City"

They are always looking for new donors.

Currently newcomers are presented an incentive with $50 each for the first 5 visits. I have been going for 70 months and it is part of my weekly routine. It doesn’t interfere with whatever you have going on because they are open from 6 AM to 7 PM daily. So put that “I’m too busy” excuse away!!

Seek out a plasma center in your area. I go to Octapharma Plasma which seems like the primary donation group.

Help others and help yourself. Now go get that blood money!

Tom Deans lives in Poquoson, Virginia. He is a hustler. He can be found driving around, selling books, exposing musical talents and cheering on the Philadelphia Eagles. Sometimes all at once.

We cajoled him to write for OgFOMK ArTS because we want to see more of his work. His sense of humor, keen observations and thirst for life are contagious. He’s the type of guy you can discuss inappropriate titles for children’s books.

His analysis on bands that are lame but have cool t-shirts is well worth listening to.

© Lon Bennett 2017 All Rights Reserved. - The Black Ink Series - Drawing 4 - "Turtle City"

What It Means to be a Heritage Monitoring Scout

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 13

16. Aug 2017

By Verna Peddi

When I was a small child I always liked to play in the dirt in my parents back yard. I had often pretended to be a scientist that was looking for some sort of artifact. Whether it be a chest of gold or a shoe it didn't matter. In my case an old soda bottle left me with great excitement.

It wasn't until after moving to Florida that I realized the history of Florida contained a greater variety than anything I grew up with in Virginia.

Florida contains many Native American mounds. These mounds are ancient in fact. We also have Pirate, Spanish and Cuban influences. My running thought was, "How am I able to experience all this?"

One day I came across FPAN, which is the Florida Public Archaeological Network. At FPAN I was able to sign up to be a lab volunteer. As a lab volunteer I began my new journey int the past.

I began with an amazing experience. I got to sit with a 1,000 year old midden mound. The mound contained garbage that Native Americans left behind. These mounds are huge. There are so many items to be found. You can sort through oyster, clam, and mussel shells. You will find small animal bones (mostly vertebrae). Finally there is the broken pottery.

As a lab volunteer I helped archaeologists tag and record the information from these mounds involving diet and day to day life of Native Americans. Here I was an adult playing in the backyard again. Of course my play contributed to our knowledge of human beings.

As a lab volunteer I uncovered for myself an opportunity where I could become a Heritage Monitoring Scout (HMS). I would be able to go out with real archaeologists and help them monitor sites. We would record things like vandalism, erosion, etc. I had to apply for this and thankfully I was accepted.

My husband and I have had the pleasure of going out with these folks to check some pretty interesting locations.

Due to the sensitive nature of the type of locations we encounter and with respect, I am unable to specify where they are. I have, instead, enclosed a few snaps for your liking. These will give you an idea of what we were monitoring.

(Continued...)

What It Means to be a Heritage Monitoring Scout (Continued...)

OgFOMK ArTS #10 – Page 14 What I Noticed 4 Oct. 1998 @1614

By Alex Nuttall l noticed the other building It was a happy building It was a building near my building Did any of them see me?

I knew them All of the bodies And all of the faces l felt like I was not known by them Furthermore I was not a happy man They had painted happy cat glyphs On flower pots and they had cats To feed and they had children The children were beautiful over there I did not have my child l was one of the people you read about In The obituary Or you saw on “Crime-Line“ Wanted, me.

So I watched The happy people From The standing position near my Rented window, I loved Them.

© Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 - 2017 20170723 -ABN It has been a dream come true for me to be a Heritage Monitoring Scout. I am looking forward to more interaction and discovery. What a Wonderful privileged it is to see the past, today.

Essay - Journal by Verna Peddi, title: What It Means to be a Heritage Monitoring Scout, Original Date: 20170816 – © Verna Peddi / OgFOMK ArTS 2017 published 20170816.

Verna Paddi is a Heritage Monitoring Scout in Florida. She shares with us her vision and passion for the deep down desire to understand the past as it is our heritage.

ogFoMK ArtS Studio

Lon Bennett

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