Decoding the Unknown Cipher of a Dead Man: Ricky McCormick

Ricky McCormick's story is one shrouded in great mystery. In 1999 his body was found some 15 miles away from his residence; No reason for death could be determined, and homicide was ruled out. Knowing that, it is quite a typical case of the standard American dead body, but the queer fact about the situation is actually what was in his pockets at the time: two note ciphered notes written by McCormick himself.
At the time of McCormick's death the notes--thought to be written three days before his death--were never mentioned to the media; However, Twelve years later in an attempt to bring the mystery to an end the FBI has released the ciphers to the media in the hopes that a fresh set of eyes could figure out what they and there team of professionals might mean.
Since the cipher's publication the FBI has received more than enough responses to there plea. They have asked that they no longer receive calls or emails, but that all possible answers to McCormick's riddle be directed to the website dedicated to his ciphers.
I encourage everyone to take a stab at it. I am curious to know what they say, and if they have anything to do with his death at all. For all we know the notes could be his grocery list or lyrics to a song that he likes. According to McCormick's family, he'd been writing in code since he was young, but no one could ever decipher it.
Good Luck!

Is the Gospel of Christ in the Zodiac?

Back in 2007 when I began my search that inevitably led me to Jesus Christ, I learned of many things. Most conservative views of Christianity--or modern ones even--would not see the means of which I was brought to the Lord proper, or a means in which to lead another towards salvation.
I learned of many things in these early times of my faith. The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, New Age, a countless nights of reading everything the internet would tell me about 2012. One thing I found stuck with me to this day and still affirms my faith is the Precession of the Equinoxes. Most of us have been exposed to precession--whether you've been going to college, you've seen Zeitgeist, or you've been keeping up with the latest 2012 prophecy. However if you're unfamiliar, a great explanation can be found here.
What really drew me into the whole concept of precession was its correlation with the church, and the symbolic parallels with Biblical symbolism & allegory that show themselves evident. I found the evidence that I needed to proceed in the faith. 
Since then, I have grown into the Christian I am today, and with a personal relationship with the Lord there is not a need for extracurricular resources outside of the church & the scriptures themselves anymore. However quite often, in my thought processes, I am reminded of the beauty of a magnificent creator who foretold his ultimate story in the pin pricks of light in the night sky... but is this exactly so?
The basis of which the idea was first presented to me was from a book that my mother gave me in either late 2007 or early 2008. It is entitle The Real Meaning of the Zodiac by D. James Kennedy and Nancy Britt. I read through the very beginning of the book, and then skimmed the rest--which, by most standards, is not the most scholarly way of adopting a theory that a piece of literature presents. Knowing that there was a publishing in favor of the subject was enough for me to accept it as sound doctrine. Later I found that the book was based on an earlier writing called Witness in the Stars by E. W. Bullinger.
Now that I'm of a sober mind & more firm in my faith in Jesus Christ, I have come to question my initial theories, and have read a few accounts of the illegitimacy of the the theory. Today I have purchased an electronic copy of Witness in the Stars, and this time I plan to actually read what it is I so thoroughly believe. I have a lot of standing questions that I would like at least some insight on:
Is it not true that the ALL things have been created by the Father, and that it is the enemy who makes them counterfeit?
What is to be said in regards to the Biblical covenant changes that have occurred in tandem to the astronomical age shifts, and the Churches phenomenal response to them?
How can the said relationship of the Gospel and Zodiac be ruled out completely due to Biblical warnings of astrology with out further ruling out the astronomical involvement of Christ's birth and death?
With that said so begins my new investigation of one of my favorite topics.

Captain Planet: The Movie

Seems like every day there is a new Hollywood Production that is recreating the oldies and goodies from the past. Within the past few months I have learned that a new remake is upon us: Captain Planet.

After doing a little research on the web I have found that back in 1997 the idea was thrown around to make the movie in a post-apocalyptic setting. Personally I think that would be pretty awesome, unfortunately the concept didn't make it very far. Hopefully we're in for some awesome CGI and a bunch of cheesy one-liners about saving the planet. I think it would be awesome for the this generation to experience the power of earth, fire, wind, water, and heart. Looks like right now everything is still being developed, so hopefully we'll get to hear something soon.

Depression


I never know when I’m becoming depressed I only realize it when I’ve been in it for a few days. It usually last for a few days at a time.

Sometimes I can just be legitimately sad or upset about something. In reference to what happened about three weeks ago that was completely based off of circumstance.

What’s going on right now though is completely different.

Depression is a pain that is bigger than emotion. It uses emotion to feed itself or maybe more like as a host. It seats itself around idea and concepts and speeds my insecurities into over drive. The part that leads me to believe that it is beyond me just being sad is that I know when it leaves.

When it leaves I can still be sad (or happy) and I can still experience the circumstances that make me upset, but the intensity is not there.

I feel depression in my very being of existence: my body, my heart, my soul… the core of myself. It’s a pain.

It’s not the same as sadness, upset-ness, anger, or any other kind of negative emotion. I think because the word “depression” can be associated with those emotions that people automatically assume that it is something as basic as emotions, but I know that not to be true. People have often said to me (especially in the church) that we have to choose to be happy or sad. Though I believe that to be true, I don’t think that this is an area where that concept applies.

I wonder if it really is a chemical problem in my head.
I wonder if it is part of the spiritual war fare that takes place every day.

It leads me to isolation and lots of sleep.

Sometimes I think it has something to do with the season’s change or the Lunar cycles; other times I have no evidence to support that reasoning. Sometimes I believe that I’m being possessed by a demon; other times I think that I’m just feeling down.

I never really know that I’ve experienced it until I’m at the peak of it. That when I’m usually aware of it enough that I can notice it decreasing. That’s where I’m at right now. It’s going to be gone soon--as long as it follows the standard pattern it always has.

It’s been very bad before… and due to the circumstances of the times I had become suicidal.

I’ve been like this since before you knew me.  Since I can remember this has always been part of my life. I celebrate it in the fact that it has in part fueled my artistic striving.

I refuse to be medicated.

I accept this as part of life really. This is one of the things in my life that not everyone gets to feel, so I will count it as a trip to the grand canyon and back in the mean time. I go places that few people get to go…

Louisiana: They're Trying to Wash Us Away

This weekend I will be off to Louisiana; I haven't been to my native land in since this past December.

It was last December while on the long I-10 drive that I made the commitment to the Lord and myself that I was done with drugs. I had a really bad episode that Christmas Eve day. I can remember the sounds I heard and the way that I felt; the wind was cold blowing through the open windows and sunroof. I remember the fear I had as the chemicals raced through my body: the tingle as though my body was a sleep.

That was the truth actually; I was asleep, and that day I finally woke up.
I will do my usual tour of the Louisiana coast and Highway 90. My first stop will be in Calumet: there I will see my father, grandmother, and Aunt Trudi. Continuing East I will next go through Patterson where all of my emotions and memories will begin to flood back into reality. It will be a Friday night: there should be a foot ball game going on at the high school. I think I'll pass by just so I can smell the air.
I'll probably go see Sam and then Becky before carrying on to Morgan City where I'm to have dinner with my dear friend Chase at Tampico's. It will be great to catch up with him, and do a little people watching. I will end the Friday evening at my sister Jennifer's house in Lake Side where I'll be sleeping for the night. She and I always have such a good time together. I can't wait to see her face again. She always reminds me of the value of family.
The following Saturday I will leave in the morning headed West through the Tri-City area. I stop again in Patterson, and visit the Rebardi family and Ms Linda, the woman responsible for my indoctrination. The last stop of the trip will be in Calumet. I'll see my grandmother one last time, and then... I'm getting the Hell out of there.
Returning to the Forest has always been a hard thing. The emotions have always been so mixed with the bittersweet taste of my childhood and of my high school days. So much of the life that I hate to look back on is rooted in this place.
There is also a fear of returning. The Forest is a deep dark place where danger lurks. I know where to find my ancient demons, and if I'm not careful they will find me. That's why I keep the trip short. There is no time to stand still when you're standing in the high way.
...They're trying to wash us away

After Hours Cafe

"For all you broken hearted lovers lost: go find another one." -Vanessa Carlton

I'm sitting here at a Starbucks. The cafe is closed, but I've come to know that this is really one of my favorite places. Here I've come to go through the thoughts in my head, take a break from life, and talk to the Father.

I'm writing these words in the spur of this very moment. This is something that I often found myself doing in high school whenever I would stay up in the very late hours of the night. Usually this behavior is taken to my written books where things are slightly more personal and intimate. There I'm bound by the speed of my hand writing, the ink of the pen, and the space on the page. Here, I can ramble on as long as I please.

"You can take me on a cheap vacation; I don't want to have expectations because you could be the death of me." -Vanessa Carlton

To update you all on what's been going on: I'm currently in an interview with an artist that I respect very much, and I can't wait to introduce her to the reader.

In the studio we're moving at a rather slow pace, but every moment so far has been great. I will let everyone know about the track as soon as Richard and I have finished. I'm very excited about this record, and I can't wait to start sharing the music with everyone. As we come close to the end of the whole project I will be letting the songs out to the public.

Work has been exceptionally busy. As you can tell from the previous posting, I've been doing a lot of market events, and networking for the company over the past month. It's been very overwhelming, but at the same time very exciting and rewarding.

I'll be running a half marathon in January. I'm up to seven miles our of slightly over thirteen. Recently I've come to know that my foot is not in the best shape for running. Everyone has been telling me that I need new shoes. My hope is that everyone is right. Looks like by this coming weekend new kicks will be in my budget!

I have a broken tooth in my mouth right now, and I can't wait to have it replaced.

I went to the piano store the other day; It was a Steinway dealer. I believe that I'll be looking into purchasing a Boston in the future: perhaps the distant future.

The Father is showing me things. I think it's a garden... I'm pretty sure it's a garden... I don't want to talk about it too much.

I can't wait to finish this record. I can see why people stay in the studio for so long before a record is fisnished.

I've rambled for a long while now.

Love to the Reader. I hope you enjoy this intangible existence...

Vole' T

Networking for Beckwith's Car Care

The following is a short dissertation of my experience in the automotive industry that I presented at the Greater Houston Business Connection Networking group in Kingwood, Texas:

My name is Terrell Brinlee. I am a child of the late 90’s—where I saw the rise the internet, and a teenager of the early 2000’s—where I saw the changes of a post 9/11 America take place. I was raised in a southern Baptist church where I was respectfully indoctrinated and first introduced to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, by whom I stand blameless in front of the creator Jehovah.
As an artist by nature I am a singer/songwriter pianist, and have been making music for the past 11 years. I also host the website: “This Intangible Existence” that features my music, the art of other local artist, current events, and commentary on everyday life.
In 2009 I moved to Atascocita with my sister and her husband and started my life over. I left South Louisiana as an Acadiana wet-Lander and became a suburban 20-something in pursuit of a better way of life and the opportunities that Texas offers.
I kicked everything off quickly by getting a job at Panera Bread, where I worked the register. I was working for 17 days straight, and on my second shift of the day when a couple came in for dinner. The man ended up coming back to my register to let me know that their soup was cold, and plates were dirty. After correcting this and a small bit on conversation the lady at the table asked how long I had been working there. “Six weeks,” I replied, and then Lynn Beckwith offered me a position of employment at Beckwith’s Car Care.
With that I was quickly injected into an industry that I was far less than familiar with.
Entering as a typically uneducated consumer with hardly any automotive knowledge (other than that of a standard oil change) I was upon a mandatory new paradigm that quickly corrected my understanding. One of the first things I was to learn about is what is known as diagnostics.
With the rise in computer technologies in the late 70’s and its integration into vehicles, It is one of the most commonly priced products among shops today; I have come to find that it is also the most misunderstood product that is purchased by the average consumer.
Diagnostics is famously know for its relationship to the check engine light that is shown on the dashboard of your car whenever the computer has detected an issue among the many sensors that are placed throughout vehicle. This alert is also seen as an amber colored “service engine soon” light or an illuminated picture of an engine.
One of the first steps taken in the Diagnostics process is pulling codes from the PCM. These codes indicate a general area of where the problem is affecting the vehicle. The codes can reflect individual sensors or malfunction within system operations (such as burning too much fuel).
It can be easily paralleled to the concept of health care. In the same fashion as a human would say that his head is hurting, the codes that a vehicle shows is the same as you or I pointing to our stomach and saying, “this hurts”.
Many of the auto parts retail stores offer a basic scan at no charge—as they should. However more often than not this is only done to help further justify a sale to the “do it yourself” customer. This would be as though you went to the doctor, told him your head hurt, and his reply being, “we need to replace your head.”
Here, the problem occurs whenever we believe that the machines that man made are smart enough to tell us what is wrong with them. The information given by a basic scan tool that only reads codes is extremely vague and at times highly interpretable.
More sophisticated scan equipment with features like reading data from a vehicle in real time, can be up to $5000 per device, and can cost anywhere from $700 to $10,000 a year in software upgrades. It is also important to remember that there is no one scan tool that can read from every make and model or run the many different kinds of test needed to properly identify the problem at hand.
Any good doctor, after learning of his patients aliment would first ask himself: “why is this happening?” before he gave you medicine or went into surgery. In order for him to better know the answer to this he would send you through a number of tests: blood work, x-ray, MRI… etc. All of which the patient is completely financially responsible for.
So weather it’s your Cooling system, Transmission, Drivability, or a Check Engine Light, it is very important that you have a properly trained experienced technician using the appropriate equipment and technology to properly Test and Diagnose the problem affecting your vehicle. At Beckwith’s Car Care we have this, along with the knowledge to advise you on how to avoid the “break down syndrome” with regular maintenance and service.
As Americans over the past hundred years we have developed a beautiful love affair with cars and trucks. I see it as the cardiovascular system of our bodies, the high ways and side streets have become the veins of our society and economic structure, allowing the life blood force behind the architectural organs that sustain our existence. We humans, like nuclei in a single blood cell depend on our vehicle more than we ever have.

Vehicles take us to work so we can provide for our families
Vehicles take us to hospitals to keep us alive
Vehicles take us to church so that we can give back to our Creator
It could be say that we become our vehicles every time we enter the driver’s seat, and adopt their characteristics. Weather you drive a beast of an F350 or, like myself, the vogue of Honda Civic, we identify with our creation, in the same way our creator identified with us in the beginning.
As a Millennial Artist from the age of the internet, I never thought that I would find myself in the automotive industry, let alone learn of the philosophical implication that is involved.
At Beckwith’s Car Care we don’t wear white coats, we don’t have a stethoscope around our neck, and we won’t be affected by the oncoming health care bill that could be imposed on the country.
But, we are your Blue Collar Doctor for the “you” outside of you. We take extreme concern with every vehicle that comes into our bays, and with a guarantee by Lynn Beckwith herself you can be assured that you will be given a bed side manner that tops any shop or hospital you have every been too.
This is what I have come to know of the industry I work in.
And I’m proud to say that thanks to dirty plates and cold soup, I love what I do.

For more information on Beckwith's Car Care or The Greater Houston Business Connection please see the following links.

Beckwith's Car Care

Greater Houston Business Connection

The Interview: Jaime Malagon

Months ago, I set out to find an artist, and after sifting though emails from everything from a wannabe Ying Yang Twins--to a gentleman with a record appropriately titled Red Necks Having Fun, I was almost at the end of my rope; That’s when I came across Jaime Malagon.

It was a Saturday Evening when I showed up at this door. I was greeted by the howls of his two white schnauzers and the Jaime himself. The inside of the house was fondly decorated with art work, Christian paraphernalia, and--the thing that most caught my eye--a Steinway baby grand piano placed along the back wall of un-curtained glass windows. We sat together on a pea green sectional, and he began to tell me his story.

He comes from a musical family. As a child, after hearing his older brother play the piano, Jaime would follow in behind him, and pick out the melodies & rhythms he heard being played.

This struck his parents’ attention to his prodigious talent, and they soon sent him to lessons. In his teenage years he was under the instruction a man who usually would only take on younger students, but saw the talent in him: Joel Rosen.

Jaime is what one would consider a classicist: one with a firm foundation in theory and composition. Between his parents & Rosen, he learned early on what is was to have a strong work ethic, and a commitment to the pursuit of knowledge & professionalism. Using the piano as his voice--not just his instrument--Jaime uses his insight & discipline to promote the profound beauty that music imparts to our emotion & state of being.

With a distinguished taste for music of the highest quality, he has played pieces from many of the greats: Delibes, Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Tchaikovsky, Adam, Minkus, Drigo, Glazunov, Gliere, Khachaturian, and Copland to say the least. Although Jaime believes that music depends on the composer’s intent & audience, when asked about the current state of modern music & major record labels he says that it’s quick to understand with graphic clarity, and no development. He compares it to lthe music of Beethoven saying:

“Beethoven composed with musical themes, forms, and ideas that are developed in a systematic way over a long period of time. This make & compels the listener to really take the time to listen, and draw their own conclusions as to what is in the music. Pop music is easy to get because of the homophonic texture & the harmonic language that is diatonic. Music that is rich in the usage of modulations, chromatics, thematic development, and rhythmical development requires attentive listening to the construction & the aforementioned due to the complexity & length of the piece.”

Being strongly involved in the performance & music industry. From New York to California, Jaime has played all over the US. He says that most playing situations are a one shot deal, and once they are done you have to hustle to get the next gig. That can be stressful when income is coming in at sporadic intervals while having expenses that have to be paid, however he was pretty fortunate. It was all very exciting for him during his youth, as he played in many different setting. Chamber music, cabaret, off-Broadway musicals, and accompanying for dance studio: All of which expanded the knowledge of his art form, and would lead him into improvisation & composition.

Through his career he has been featured in many compilation recording either doing a single solo piece or accompaniment. Jaime’s first solo recording of original work was released in 2008; It’s called The Sweet Spot--referencing the optimum acoustic focal point in a space. Derived in part from the death of his parents & the emotions involved, the record is a work of transcendence. It is a collection of vignettes titled with standard classical ideologies. Within the track of this album is where Jaime’s musical philosophy is fully stated.

“Whenever I perform--or hear a performer--there is always this profound connection that I feel to the audience--or the performer, where the music is the conversation, rather than the words. It is that intangible essence of the soul that is permeated by the music; it forms an immediate impact & connection with the listener & performer. Music is filled with an enigmatic radiance & magnetism that defies comprehension; it is the voice & instrument of nature, and has been an archetype for all of humanity since the beginning of time. Without any needed translations, explanations, or elaboration, it simply is the language of the soul.”

I had the awesome experience of spending a good part of my summer with this man at his house as he taught me things about my own musicianship, the beauty of his personal world view, and the effect that Christ has had on his life. I am honored to feature this expose’ on his life, and invite you all to enjoy the music of Jaime Malagon. For more information, or how you can get a copy of The Sweet Spot send an email This Intangible Existence at terrellbrinlee@gmail.com.


In the Studio

A few months ago, a fellow parishioner and I had a chance to have a quick jam session one night after a meeting at Second Baptist—me on the grand and him in on the drums. The experience was exhilarating; Sitting down with another person musically that could follow my lead so well was something new for me. I hadn’t played music with a drummer in a good while let alone someone with as much skill as Richard Savercool.

He had mentioned to me—after our session—that he would like to do some recording. I brushed it off, and didn’t pay much attention to him. As I carried on into the days following, I soon realized the offer that had been presented to me. I tracked down Richard’s number, and called him immediately.

I found myself headed to a small town—north of the Houston metropolitan area—called Paton Village. It’s probably one of the smaller communities I’ve seen since living in Texas. A quick turn off the freeway and down a tree canopy covered road, I landed at Richards’s house.

We began brain storming about the music that I have been writing for the past four years: talking about beats and pads. After letting him hear some of the recordings I had already done myself, we were certain that where we needed to start was at the beginning of everything with the song I first fell in love with: “Flamingo Fandango”. What I have always favored most about the song is that it was a strong narrative, lyrically and musically.

Over the course of a lunar cycle we invested about 24 hours into the song, meeting once a week. I really had no idea where I wanted it to go; while we were doing the first couple of takes of the song, I was interpreting “Flamingo” in the same fashion that I had when I recorded it back in 2007 and I featured it as the opening number of Constellation BluePrint. The issue was that the song had evolved since then.

More than a year ago, I played a set at an open mic. I played “Flamingo” that night, and it fell apart on me somewhere between my head, hands, piano, and my nerves. Since then there was resentment left: a bad taste in my mouth. Soon after, the song became novel and no longer relevant.

I believed that the song had true value: It was one of the first God given inspirations I had. Because of that, I knew that it HAD to be on what Richard and I would be doing, but the phrasing had changed a lot since BluePrint; It wasn’t the solo piano opener that it was designed to be anymore.

I can recall sometime last year: I was setting up my equipment to do a session, and I was approached—within my writing—by “Flamingo”. Though the words verbatim escape me, it and I were in conversation.

I was sitting in a room a lot like the judges at an American Idol audition would. The song walked in, and I knew who it was immediately. It had become more masculine since our falling out; it molted its pink feathers to show its newly found sun burnt skin, but there was still the ominous red glow that had always been. It presented itself—and its growth— but I paid no mind to what had happened to it in the time that it and I separated.

So, there I was on the first night of recording with Richard, and I was struggling to make anything happen. I was summoning the song, but it turned a cold shoulder to me. Richard was steadily giving me encouragement that we had no deadline to make the song come out.

I was starting to get pretty upset with myself that—I wasn’t able to perform on demand: this has always been one of my biggest fears about recording in a studio. Richard and I were taking a break. I remember staring into the corner of the studio where I could a cob web in motion; I saw how the light was reflecting off of it and the shadow that was cast. I started playing the song again. Richard spoke up saying, “Wait, what you are doing? That’s different!?!”

I saw what I was doing: I was trying to make the song something that it no longer was. During the recording of “Flamingo”, I learned an important lesson about evolution and expectations (something I thought I learned years ago). After that the project took off.

Richard had a lot of ideas to bring to the table; Things that initially I thought were going to be a bad move ended up being the best. It’s amazing working with someone else on something that you’ve put so much effort into; there is a certain amount of bending and stretching you have to do as the artist whenever you’re working with a producer. I’m really excited about being in good company with someone who’s excited as well about making this record, and wants the best for the music while still taking into consideration my personal artistic vision as creator.

I got a call earlier this week from Richard telling me that he’s done mastering the song. I’ve been riding around in my car listening to the rough version: tons of layers and unbalanced tracks. This coming Tuesday Richard and I are getting together to hear the song together, and discuss the next track we’re recording. It’s only the beginning of the album, and I’m in full anticipation to see the outcome!

The song is relevant to me again. Its evolution has been one consistent with the restoration that the Father has begun in my life. That is something that I am most thankful for. It only further confirms that the work was a gift to begin with. I’m bound to it again in the same way that I was with the song back in the days of BluePrint.

I think next we’ll have a little white cherry~

Vole’ T


Milk Carton Mother

It was raining that day; the morning sky was dressed in the overcast of a storm falling from the sky. On the third snooze after the initial alarm she decided to get out of bed. It wasn’t a day that she was looking forward to.

She sat at the table like she did every morning before work with a typical breakfast: toast, jam, coffee, and milk. The milk carton sat across from her; She stared at it barley moving in her robe. A tear rolled down her cheek.

After the hustle of stormy morning traffic, she made it to her cubical early. She sat at her desk, scanning news reports from her computer in a daze. Her eyes meet the calendar pined to the partition. the 20th was circled in red pen. While staring, the daze caught up with her as it soon became a haunted memory.

Through the pathways in her mind she started to trace her steps back to where she was on this day a year ago. It was raining that day too. She got the call around dawn. It was a gruff and scratchy voice, “We think we’ve found her...” Her heart fell to stomach.

She was brought back from her thoughts when her phone rang. Wiping away her tears she answered it on the third ring. “Harris County Sheriff’s Department...” she wiped away her tears, and started her day. The voice on the phone was the same that she heard that morning a year ago.

“Rebecca?!? I told you to stay home today! What the Hell are you doing at work?” the voice spoke.

“I know David, but I have a lot to do this morning, and I wanted to at least get in half a day.”

“I can hear it in you voice Beck, You’re a wreck!”

She replied quickly to stop the conversation, “I’m forwarding my calls to voicemail, and I’m not going to the briefing this morning. I just need to get a few things done.”

“You’re as stubborn as the day is long, girl. Go Home--Get some rest!”

“Goodbye David.” she said as she hung up the phone.

She laid her head down on the desk, and again she started to think about that day a year ago.

She was still in bed when she answered the phone, “What are you talking about David?” she question him in a delirious state.

“It’s a mass grave,” he said, “about twenty kids spread out over about 300 feet.” he said coldly.

She paused, and with a trembled voice she whispered to herself, “... Bailey?”

“You should get down here--Tucket’s Pasture is where it is. I’ll be waiting for you.” David hung up the phone.

She pulled into a muddy dirt road in a panic hoping not to find what she would. Red and blue lights flashed from the police cars lining the entrance to the property. She was flagged down by an officer who asked for her ID. She showed her badge, and parked her car.

It was a blur. She saw a cadaver dressed in her daughter’s clothes that she was reported wearing three months ago when she went missing. Rebecca fell to her knees.

She lifted her head from the memory, staring at the calendar with the red circled 20th.

It was lunch time, and David walked in behind her. He stood and watched as she stayed glued to her monitor typing reports. “You should let me take you out to lunch,” he said.

“I’m not very hungry.” she replied.

“It’s an order.”

They were sitting under the over hang of a cafe’. Not much was being said over the salad and soup they were having. David lit a cigarette, and broke the silence after the waiter came and took their plates.. As the rain was clearing leaving a the blue of a mid day overcast he said, “You should talk about it.”

She sat there staring at her coffee. She started to speak:

“How old are you boys David?”

“18 and 20,” he answered.

“She would have been 9 this year,” she paused and looked up at him. “Your boys have a lot ahead of them: graduating from college, marriage, and grandchildren if you’re lucky,” she laughed.

“Bailey was 8 years old. She could have been anything she wanted to be. She could have been anything that I could force her to be for that matter. Our children are our legacy: the part of us that we leave behind.” She paused.

“She could have been anything,” she said staring off into the distance.
“Whatever it was: fate, destiny, God’s plan... Bailey is nothing now. Her legacy has been made, and it stares across the table from me every morning on the side of the milk carton. We found her a year ago, and they’re still printing it. Your kids are going to go on and be great men, but my baby will forever be that kid on the side of the milk carton.”

Love Wins: Rob Bell and True Irony

The following is a summarized quote from the trailer of Rob Bell’s new book Love Wins.

“Several years ago we had an art show at our church… there was one piece that had a quote from Gandhi in it… …Somewhere in the course of the art show somebody had attached a hand written note… they had written, ‘reality check, he’s in Hell’… …He’s in Hell? And someone knows this for sure? And felt the need to let the rest of us know?...”

Though roughly summarized, one could get the point of where Bell is going with this. Since the release of the book, the Christian community has been in an uproar over what the mega church pastor is saying: justifiably enough, However, I’m not here to voice my opinion on whether Bell is a Universalist or if what he’s saying is correct.

Let me take you back to a few months ago before the world knew about Love Wins.

I began attending a class at a church that I regularly do not attend. On the wall of the class room I was in hung a poster of Jesus’ “so called” Facebook page—as if it were something real. Along the many categories, quotes, groups, and comments was Jesus’ friend list. It contained some of the more notable names within the Christian faith: C.S. Lewis, King David, David Crowder, and YOU! Among these names was Rob Bell—third on the list.

I attended this class throughout the time of about nine months. It was during this time that the rise of Bell’s new book came about. One evening I entered the room as usual; perhaps I was getting coffee when I noticed that the poster had been altered.

In the same fashion that Gandhi has been banished to hell, so had Bell. There was an “X” over his picture with a blunt two word statement: “Not Anymore”

Rob Bell isn’t Jesus’ friend anymore? And someone knows this for sure? And felt the need to let the rest of us know?

For the first time in my life I have witnessed true irony.

closing the monolith

It's been a long seven months.
My prayer is that I continue to move forward.
When the book began, I saw that the monolith was upon me.
It drastically changes man kind when the monolith appears.
I prayed for change;
God brought the monolith.
I crossed a thresh hold;
I'm on the other side now.

"The Monolith" ending pg.
**Note that what is read here has be edited and revised from the original manuscript by the author.

Osama bin Laden: Dead or Alive?

So it seems we’ve found the guy: the infamous villain of the American 21st century. Last night after finding out the news, I was brought to a strange solacing emotion: a familiar place that plagued me some ten years ago whenever I was in the eighth grade and first heard that the towers had gone down.
I wonder how the American community is going to respond to this as a whole—let alone the response from the divided political parties. Soon there will be talk of “the end of the war.” Everything within the past ten years has somehow been affected by that one day in September, and for the first time--in a long time--some sort of resolution has come about.
Or has it?
Almost every news report out there is talking about what has happened within the past evening, and almost every American is quick to believe that which is being said. I’m interested in seeing how the conspiracy theorist will approach this situation. A Karachi-based GEO television network out of Pakistan and Bloomberg has already begun making claims that bin Laden is still alive.
I find it odd that bin Laden is dead only DAYS after the highly debated birth certificate is revealed to the media.
I find it odd that the picture of the bin Laden’s cadaver had to be edited to be released to the masses.
I find it odd that the body was given an immediate burial by sea.
Not to mention the countless reports of bin Laden’s connection with the Bush family, and the many discrepancies found within the 9/11 report.
I’m not trying to persuade a reader to believe one side or the other, but I am saying that there is another side to this ten year long epic we as Americans have journeyed on. As humans we lie to each other every day for many different reasons. I ask each citizen to be more discerning—if not, as much as possible—during this next year.
Do not believe everything the “talking box” in your living room is saying. The revolution is NOT on your television.
Pakistan Taliban Says Bin Laden Is Still Alive, Geo Says- http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-05-02/pakistan-taliban-says-bin-laden-is-still-alive-geo-says-1-.html

Express 1MX


About a year ago my boss approached me about my work attire: jeans and an embroidered polo. She was concerned about how “professional” I did NOT look, and requested that I find new uniforms.

Shopping for clothes is something I don’t regularly participate in. Usually if I find what I like, I stick with it--until my body shape begins to rejects it. I remember being pretty concerned whenever I was asked to wear a button down shirt and a black pants—not my cup of tea. Being slim I worried if I would be able to find shirts with the proper cut that would fit my form, but find them I did.

Express 1MX shirts

This shirt is a fine garment cut to fit the build a modern day millennial; it seems that Express has the monopoly on solids color shirts like this. In my search I have found no other shirt to fit me better than a 1MX, but there is a horrible down fall.

“Dressedlikethis” is a commenter on Express’ website; he spoke correctly when on 2.15.11 he recognized the shirts calling them “Colorful short term shirts:”

“…the darker colored shirts fade drastically after one dry cleaning so tell your cleaner to be gentle. Machine washing doesn't fade the shirt as fast but will leave it with a textured look--as opposed to a crisp look it starts out with.”

He’s right. I started wearing the shirts everyday as part of my regular uniform. Over time, however, I found that they began to become worn. The shirts do not hold up for any extended amount of wear.

The problem here is not the fact that the clothes don’t hold up; it lies within the fact that the shirt priced very expensively: running about $60 a shirt. You can buy two and get one half off averaging the shirts at $40 apiece.

The price does not match the quality. The shame is that, like I said earlier, there is not legitimate competitor to provide me with either the same quality shirt with a better price or better quality shirt for the same price.

Houston to Austin: MS150

This coming April I will be participating in the MS150. It's a bike ride from Houston all the way to Austin. All the proceeds will support the National MS Society. Because I'll be riding I've been asked to reach a goal of $1000. I need all the help I can get, so if you're in the giving spirit PLEASE follow the link below or click the link in the side bar to donate on my behalf.

Thanks for the support.
Terrell!

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/terrellbrinlee

A Piscean Transcendence Through the Martian Battle Front

Still in love with the profound truths of “Flamingo Fandango,” “Out of Aquarius,” and, my beloved, “Of Circles” I was yearning to continue my plight as a songwriter. Personally I never take this well, especially after coming off of such a great episode of my writing that was: “Constellation BluePrint.”

I was working at a fabrication yard in South Louisiana, and making my first attempts to fulfill the pledge I made during the writing of BluePrint. It was an environment of Men; I knew only few people, so as a self loathing homosexual, insecure in himself, and had recently obtained sobriety from mild drugs needless to say I was an emotional wreck. I found, however, that in such a wreckage is where one truly finds Jehovah.

It had been a few months more or less of a year that I had completed BluePrint, and I wanted to continue writing. I needed the emotional and expressive release that is the creative process due to my situation, but I was finding it hard to obtain because I had two dilemmas: “How does one properly and expansively follow BluePrint” and my dear ol’ friend writer’s block was spending the night--indefinitely.

As I often describe it, “Constellation BluePrint” was a complex conversation between God and I about many thing: the fate of my music and His involvement in my writing, the questionability of the validity of His son Jesus Christ, the ideology of apocalyptic myth, and--most notably--my almost compulsive decision to separate myself from the Gay culture and said lifestyle.

The bulk of this communication can be found in the musical suite “DreamCast & SolarFlare.” On a night that I was beautifully inebriated, God seemed to step in with a ten minute flood of improvised inspiration. I had no intention of this piece becoming anything more than what it was, however, I soon found that what I thought was a musical interlude, was actually part of a much larger structure. It was then that I entered the atmosphere of the song “Ode to MARS” or “Mars,” and began to write the next chapter of my anthology protractively titled, “A Piscean Transcendence Through the Martian Battle Front.”

Soon after that, the map that was “Constellation BluePrint” led me to find many of the other songs--planets as I came to call them--that were orbiting in the same solar system in which I was currently residing. In the depression of my uncomfortable work environment I would often find myself in a garb of safety glasses, ear plugs, and multiple layers of work clothes drilling holes in metal, tacking off hand rails, and grinding away the slag of freshly cut hot steal. The songs would play over and over in my head, being the only release I had during the lesson of endurance that my Creator was teaching me.

In early 2009 and In the middle of this writing, I moved to Texas. With a change of scenery and new outlook on my life, I began to be released from the depression that had set in. The songs I had written did not seem to reflect my current situation on the opposite end of a dismal existence; I felt separated from the music. After the “new” had worn off, however, I discovered what lied along the outer circumference of the planetary system: songs like “Cadence” and “Where I’ve Been.”

Finding the last fragments of the complete work meant that the refinement process would inevitably follow. I stayed in refinement for roughly over a year. This was difficult because--unlike BluePrint--These songs would not find themselves in such a stagnant recorded state, despite my effort to lay them down. The songs that did find themselves recorded were rough interpretations that were logged long before the refinement: flimsy intonation, jumbled melodies, and clipped layering. I never quite became confident in what was made, and I lost motivation.

This past December, as the war and turmoil of what seemed to be a failed work died down, I ended “A Piscean Transcendence Through the Martian Battle Front,” and closed the most dramatic era of my writings to date. It was then that I longed for writing again.

I can confidently say on this night, that, despite my uncertainty, I have come into the next phase of my writings, and with that said, I feel as though it is only right that I submit to the reader the music that was recorded. It is a proper closing and the only testament to the work. In hindsight It has become clear that this ending was not just the end of a chapter, but also to an even much larger work: an epilog, if you will, bringing a complete conversation full circle.

I’m thankful to the Father and Christ for for this lingering long awaited conclusion, and allowing such a work to be presented to the masses.

"Constellation BluePrint" and "A Piscean Transcendence Through the Martian Battle Front" are available DownloadFREE. Click the cover art along the side of the page or within the blog for further information.

**All songs available through "This Intangebel Exsistance" and www.Purevolume.com/terrellbrinlee are all written recorded by Terrell Brinlee, other than "9/11 tribute"

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