Mint Marble Fudge

That is the Organic So Delicious non-dairy Whole Foods Market ice-cream that I bought today, just around 7pm, PST, Tuesday, 9/29/2009, which was after leaving the Giving Tree's Gigi movie-night, second-floor lobby to my apartment place, where I was talking to the nice Debra Gray something lady/blonde girl facilitator about my boring online college life which started just last Monday (not yesterday, which was also Monday). She missed learning, she said, people too, not the busy procrastinated schedule, but mostly the learning is what she missed. I left telling her about how much I like the part, in the movie, where the two guys had a dialog singing dance. It may have been comedic. They were not actually dancing. But I like it, I mean, the ability to put together all of those things, I mean, to put together people, singing, dancing, comedy, intellectual thought and reasoning, exercise, spirit, joy, energy, life, the great outdoors, haha, I mean, really, to put all those things together, I am in love with that.

Sadly also in love with food, which demised me out into my neighboring Whole Foods grocery, ran into elderly Jack, who appears as a farmer, who lives in my building, who wondered why I was missing the Gigi film, and I replied with, like, Will Smith isn't there kind of thing. My African friend (fifty, possibly, even through he looks possibly thirty, across the hall from Ed, 522, near Dennis, a smart fellow with computers, a TV, and who is a hard worker, who also noted to somebody on the phone that if there is a god then he must not care, because why is life so tough, but what can you do, smile, he told his phonee), who also lives in my building, left me a message, he saw me on the second floor, earlier, when I was watching the film, but I didn't have my cell phone with me, but I returned his call, went up the stairs, this time, instead of the elevator, just one floor from my fourth floor, and got to work on his old Pentium II laptop, as he was finishing a conversation with somebody about the swine flu (which, if you are older than fifty, like Ed, you may already be immunized to it, since you had enough time to be exposed to it, as soon as it found time to get around to you, so, I won't be worry about it, either, perhaps). Now, the laptop was having booting problems, which may be the Linux (like Microsoft or Apple, or Unix, but quite open-source-able) Ubuntu 8.04's OT (Operating System) programing/software/non-hardware problem, which means, booting first by turning on the computer, and then ESC (escape key on the laptop's keyboard), ESC (as it prompts us to enter it if necessary), and then ENTER into the first options, the regular way into Ubuntu (like Windows or whatever that Apple got), but when that does not work, ESC, ESC, down to the next option and then ENTER into safe mode which eventually leads to the blue screen, click on the last option to fix the x-server, then the second to fix or upgrade or update other problems, the third one, no, but I did go into the root or shell prompt place, like MS-Dos, and I entered in "Sudo apt-get upgrade" and "..........update." All of that was so slow. It was then time, anyways, for his news on OPB or wherever on digital TV. I opt from borrowing the laptop, from trying to fix it, I told him just that classes were boring. He does have a big satellite-looking USB (connected via around three USB cords) wireless internet receiver, which was parked on a chair right out the front door, into the hallway. At the movie night, saw Nick, Ed, and even that younger girl. And the tall one was sitting next to me. And the sad one with the hat.



Dog it up!

You cannot always eat it up, take it up, do it all, or whatever, but you can dog it up, and that is why I am writing this, I am writing to express my belief in dog (not to be confused with God, which is dog backwards), and this may be the site for that, but I am not sure about that, yet, but I can at least write it, I can atleast say that I want a pre-draft log archive of my writings. A log is an entry at original submission status. When you take a picture, that is the original, or it is the negatives until you develop them. That is either a log or an og. I really think that it is more than mere dog status. And there is also a yog which anything that is not in my world, on my lap, say, it does not exist to me, not yet, but it may be dogging towards me, but it is not dog yet. But log or og is photo status, or negatives status, or an original writing entry, a journal entry, a letter, a book, you know, you finish it, and once you do, before you revise it, before you update, or re-modify it, you hold onto it, you archive it, you collect it, you log or og it. But the definition behind dog is pre-log-ness, pre-log status. It is like a picture before it is even taken. It is like a bunch of puzzle pieces before you put them together. Bog is the remodifed version for public or specific viewings or purposes. Jog is the extended collection, which is in the middle of log and bog, and way over dog. Log is after dog. Bog is way after dog, and then past log, and finally past jog. Jog is probably more topical. Log or og has to be more chronological. Bog is probably the most condensed.

But I always wonder how I am going to do things. With all of my projects, I have to stay organized. I may just get a dog that is private, later. I cannot keep everything public. I can keep all of my stuff public, I think, but I do not always have permission to release other's property, bottom-line. It will still happen, but I will try to reduce problems. I am just looking for rhythm. I left my mother this phone message, that I just want direction, like I had for Revolution Hawaii, I had a burning calling drive from Jesus to go, or was it Jesus, but I got the help or promotion or foot in the door to that year-long mission exerpience through Lincoln Hawk, and now, as I look for closure for several nagging brain-draining swet worrying almost-meaningless home movies and writings and family-tree and dieting and other such projects, as I look to minimize so many of these projects, and book projects, and L4OJ (Looking For Outrageous Joy or Living For Only Jesus) projects, and Green Oatmeal, and GYJO (Getting Your Joy On), and PAB (Praying Address Book), and JAO (Joey Arnold Oatmeal), and JSA (Joseph Scott Arnold), and Hope over Dope, and EA (Encouragement Articles), and so much, and things about salvation, and about world Jesus gospel missions, and making films, documentaries, drawings, inventions, and comedic lines, and buildings, and green innovations, and robots, and traveling, and marrying, and starting a family, again, doing more traveling, meeting people, being nice, encouraging people, inspiring people to L4OJ, to really live, as with oatmeal in my bowl, is Jesus in your soul, he can make you whole, he can give you joy over circumstances, he can be your Lord and Savior, whether you believe Him or not, good to the last drop, ain nothing better.

What is better than that? I am not exactly sure. I just want to make sure that I know where my dog blog sites are, and how I am to write in them, I mean, how much do I write in them, and do I keep it all private, or should I be scared of who read them, as this one is public, but I must find the answer and way for correct rotation through private and/or public dog journal/diary blog entries or email letters or updates, or lists or mogs (map on goals) or pogs (preview or paper or paragraph(s) on goals) or logs or jogs or even togs (tasks on goal) or nogs (not to do, not on goal, nothing, to not do someday, a not tog goal). Doing this dog thing has to be my life, at least for a minute each week.

Each Sunday, each week, or each Monday, or each day of the week, you should bog, whether that is in EA or in PAB or in GYJO, or in public blogs or videos or services or whatever for other people, somehow that should be what you give first in writings, in talk, in what you say, but moreover, in what you do, your actions as they have to speak and will and does speaketh louder than writings, for it is the exemplar to love.


The second day to each week must then be jog, to extension collecting, gathering, from logs, and possibly none from bogs, and keep it as a history collection to your world or life or whatever.

Third day to each week must then be log, which might also be just an og, for original, instead of like list on goal.

Fourth day of each week must be on dog, on what comes in.

Fifth day to each week must be on cogs, copies on goal, backups to logs, and possibly to bogs, to jogs, and maybe to dogs, lastly, but just for whatever that is most important, whatever that is worth it to be duplicated, copied, on backup, on file, on paper, saved here or saved there, for security, do not take risks, back it up, cog it, carefully on goal.

Sixth day was when man was created, I mean, on the sixth day to each week, you must rog, as in recycle, or just have a pile of what can be recycled, and maybe not just thrown away or kept in a dog or log or jog or bog. Bog is usually just delivered strait to the recipient, it is rarely kept in log or returned to the extended jog mess or copied into rog. But can it be recycled? WHat can be recycled? How can we Green Oatmeal?

The seventh and last day to each week must be on wog, waste on goal, worse on goal, in contrast to bog, the first thing to each week, the best on goal, a bog has to be what is best, but wog is last and must be decided at last. It must be sour.

This ice cream sure was wog. I did not like this non-dairy So Delicious' Mint Marble Fudge ice-cream, and I should wait a week before spending my last bit of around forty dollars of my Oregon Trail Card (EBT) food stamps which will be discontinued due to PCC four online (12 credits) classes this fall of 2009 status/just not working more than 20 hours in any job. If I can get more than 20 hours of work, then I can reapply for food stamps. If I wate till after the first week of October then I will be taken off the waiting list or limbo list or whatever and it will take a long time or something to get back into it someday later.





Do not eat the Mint Marble Fudge ice-cream!

It was also one quart in size, sitting apart from dinner. They say moderation. But I just don't like ice-cream, even through I have eaten it so much. And why should I like it? Cashier Adam, who may have been nervous. For just $4.79. 18:45pm. Whole Foods. 503.525.4343. Bathroom code was 16598. I will keep this original receipt/check in their sack, and may keep in a larger place later. But this receipt has to be cog or rog or wog. It is mostly rog since I can color or write or scribble on the back of it.

This empty ice-cream box will be wogged into the trash, right now, and I toggilly will wash the metal spoon on the double, as Pandora socks it to me, that is music.

Hand

Written Over Spoken

Written Over Spoken
By Joey Arnold
Thursday: 09/24/2009

Written language has form, it has shape that can be sizzled onto stone, onto caves, feathered onto animal skins, it can be visualized, it can be remembered, it can be translated, it can be colored, it can be read, it can be copied, written on a typewriter, on your keyboard, save it to a disk, back it up, copy and paste it, share it, fax it, sell it in a book, a letter, a postcard, a comic strip, a love story, a title to a store. I say all of this in complete contrast to the lesser, to the spoken counterpart to this very subject of communication, to oral tradition, which has been passed on since the dawn of time, but what has not been totally remembered by word of mouth, especially when the old man dies.
Now, much value, to the written form, to the written side of things, are in fact influenced from the spoken side, writings do in fact derive from verbal communication, even to the extent to nonverbal communication, or simple to the tone of voice, or to the circumstances to what is going on. When you are reading this, how can you be for sure that I am not being sarcastic in any of this? Can you completely know what is being said without looking at my body language? If you cannot see it, will you choose not to believe it, to believe in the value of written language, will you cease to have faith in what is written? In generality, or in my opinion alone, written communication really can transcend into the scope of nonverbal clues, to art itself, to anything that you can see with your eyes (or possibly to what is felt, if that is not intersect with the definition behind spoken communication). Written language really can be anything you see, the very art that this world is made up of, since art is visual, it is design, it is symbolic, since a picture really does say thousands of words, depending on the size and value behind that picture (especially that Mono Lisa painting, which would have to be ten thousand words).

In conclusion, I will just have to bow down and worship what is written. I would like to attach nonverbal body language to the definition to what is written because it cannot be verbal communication and it should not be stranded out by itself as a third scope to communication.
Society craves the newspapers. We eat up books. We probably read more than we listen. At the end of the day, our eyes are much more tired than our ears, usually. Or is that just true because I wear glasses? But you know that written language is very necessary, for you are reading it right now.

Society will never get enough of written language, and the conclusions, the reasons, the argument, for this case, as already seen, in complete contrast to what is spoken, are endless, the examples are everywhere, and you can take that to the bank (or you can just eat it up).

Mission Promotion Arnold Island 0.1

Fabling off the hills of mystical tyranny.

You rage back to society.

With only one thing on your mind.



Arnold Island Promotion.

That is the Arnold's family.

The immediate family.

A. Joey
B. Sister Blondie
C. Sister Guitar
D. Brother Airplane
F. Mother Hairspray
G. & possibly a father


But what should we call this?

I found this:

thearnoldisland@yahoo.com


That one is totally available.

But is that name too long?

Are we really an island?


If so.

Then would you like to come on over?

Mission Promotion Mother 0.1

Slumbering off the dens of galactic waste.

You puddle right into a Siberia tribe.
With fifty eight years behind you, and two less arms.
(lost during your escape from imperial space death camps).

You only have one thing on your mind.

Mission Promotion Mother 0.1:

Crucial secrets, fresh on your mind.
(& with the scents of hell powdered all around you).
Good work, you are still alive.
I think.

But with missing arms.
And with missing lips.
Your eyes flicker at this ongoing saga.

How do I share my insights with mankind?
How can I contribute to humanity?
Before it is too late?


That is what this mission is all about.

My mom has, allegorically, escaped hell.
And in doing so, quite literally.
She wants to now save you?
Question Mark?

Yes.
That is the question.
Will you let her help?

If so.

Then let us know what you think.
It is that easy.
No strings attached.

What should we do?

I say, I am going to start a website for my mother.

But that is the question.

What should we call this website?

How can we promote this librarian.

This home-schooling teacher.

This writing editor.

This historian.

This doctor.

This secretary.

This financial advisor.

This public Relations expert.



How can we add wings to a dying turtle?


What should my mother's site be called?
15f9/4/09:


I was talking to Mother about this.
We have been talking about this for the last decade.
About sharing wealth, or health, or truth.
It would be a shame to keep that from the world.

That is the problem.





How can she better share her world with the world?




How should she say it?
What should we call her?
What will her website be?

I was talking to my mother about this, today.
We are going to start a mother campaign, soon.
I am not making this up.
She will be your guide.

But what will you call her?

1. Arnold Herb

2. Arnold Island

3. Arnold's Apples

4. Arnold's Airplanes

5. Cunningham Carrots

6. Truth and Health

7. Marilyn Music

8. Marilyn Morehead

9. Marilyn Cathleen

10. Truth Behind History

11. MM

12. Smart Pig

13. Homeschool Mothers United

14. Coffee Espresso

15. Peanutbutter Poop

16. L4OJ For Mothers



If you have any ideas, just let us know.

Joey Arnold's Dog

Joey Arnold has a dog.
16r9/3/09

You want to meet my dog.

Not to be confused with the black one.
1990: age five: Blacky, or Charlie, was lost to me.
But that dog is not this dog.

This dog eats.
And eats, and eats.

This journal is all about that.
That is what!
What is up.

Or what is coming up.