Most recent post

The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching

-
Image
  The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching The atmosphere over Pine Creek churns before it breaks. The sky stops being a distant ceiling, and tears open into a fevered, gestural vortex, churning in fierce ribbons of cadmium gold, raw ember, and bruised ink. Here, in the suffocating stillness of the build-up, the heat plays violent tricks on my inner eye. As the squall gathers, the twisting ironwoods and fractured ridges don't feel empty; they crawl with the uncanny belief of the Little People, low-slung, watchful phantoms spun from wire, red dust, and dry static, waiting out the road's fragility. Every jagged branch and swirling filament of cloud becomes a face, an arm, a sinister presence breathing inside the rising storm, drawing the traveller deeper into the delirium of the interior. Pine Creek Storm Front Torn black filaments of wind and shadow seemed to claw straight out of the atmosphere, dripping down like hot tar, twisting through the spindly ironwo...
Post a Comment

Every Quest has a Starting Point

-

 


Every Quest has a Starting Point

🕹️ Can Gaming Boost Your Brainpower at 65? 

Follow the hilarious and inspiring journey of JJFB Bennett, a determined adventurer setting out to conquer the digital world of Assassin’s Creed—armed with nothing but his trusty MacBook Pro and an unbreakable spirit!


💡 Why Gaming?

After discovering that video games can help improve memory and cognitive skills, JJFB decided to level up his brainpower in the most entertaining way possible. And what better way than sneaking through historical landscapes, battling foes, and making daring decisions in Assassin’s Creed?

🍎 Mac vs. Gaming: The Ultimate Showdown

There’s just one catch—JJFB is no tech wizard, and gaming on a MacBook Pro is proving to be an adventure of its own. Despite friendly advice to use a Windows machine, he’s determined to make his Mac the gateway to the Animus, even if it means facing the dreaded lag monster and the frustration of endless loading screens.

😂 A Comedy of Tech Mishaps

With his Virtual Assistant documenting every triumph and tech fail, this journey promises plenty of laughs, relatable moments, and maybe even a few epic wins. Will JJFB become a virtual hero or spend more time troubleshooting than gaming?

👉 Watch the Adventure Unfold

Subscribe to JJFB Bennett’s YouTube Channel and witness the highs, lows, and hilarious moments of this brain-boosting gaming quest. Don’t miss the next episode—The Great Counter-Strike Catastrophe!


Keywords: 

The Quest 001, JJFB Bennett, gaming at 65, brain training through video games, Assassin’s Creed journey, gaming on MacBook Pro, tech troubleshooting, cognitive benefits of gaming, gaming comedy, independent artist.

Hashtags: 

#TheQuest001 #JJFBBennett #GamingAt65 #AssassinsCreedJourney #MacGaming #TechFails #BrainBoostingGames #GamingComedy #IndependentArtist #LevelUpYourBrain






John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art. 

You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music, Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud

To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal  

If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT profile is https://opensea.io/JJFBbennett  


Copyright

This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Terminal Horizon Highway

-
Image
The Terminal Horizon Highway  The Terminal Horizon Tourist Bus Would you catch the Terminal Horizon bus? Travel sketches by metamodernist artist JJFBbennett The Long Highway Out here, the world ends not in silence, but in fire. The asphalt bleeds into cracked red earth, stretching toward a bruised horizon where the sky refuses to cool. Behind the glass, you drive chasing ghosts through a desert that forgot rain a lifetime ago. Beneath the Scorch Every road leads deeper into the furnace. Even below the surface, the rock fissures and weeps, hot steam rising through subterranean fractures where molten veins pulse in the dark, feeding an ancient, unforgiving heat. Broken Arteries What we built couldn’t hold. Rails twist into the dunes, swallowed by iron sand and wind. Bridges split down the seam, concrete splintered into raw bone, tangled rebar, and dying wires crackling into the smoke. The machines stopped; the wasteland stayed. The Last Horizon And when the road finally runs out, the...
Read more

From Adelaide River to Daly Waters

-
Image
From Adelaide River to Daly Waters Somewhere south of the Adelaide River "South of the Adelaide River" explores the haunting intersection of modern progress and forgotten history in the vast stretches of the Northern Territory. At the center of the composition stands the specter of a lone soldier, a poignant symbol of profound loss and of abandoned souls swallowed by the unforgiving outback. Stripped of a specific name, era, or mission, the figure represents all those left behind by the relentless march of time—individuals whose sacrifices and stories faded into the scrubland while the world simply moved on. The striking juxtaposition of this spectral wanderer beside a towering, contemporary road train underscores a profound sense of isolation. The heavy machinery of the modern world inches forward down the isolated track, entirely oblivious to the lingering ghosts of the past tethered to the roadside. The brilliant, atmospheric lighting that breaks through the forest canopy ...
Read more

Blood Moon Scrub - Through the eyes of the Lost Soldier

-
Image
Through the eyes of the Lost Soldier The sky is bleeding into the dirt again, and the old hunger crawls up through my boots. It no longer matters. Time does not march out here. It pools beneath a dry creek bed, stagnant and unseen. But when the moon swells, heavy and bruised with copper rust, the cold in my ribs becomes a scald. The scrub does not burn with heat. It burns with memory. Through the tangled mallee, I see the flash of artillery, the orange-red roar of a barrage that never stopped falling, trapped forever inside the rib cages of these dead gums. I taste copper on my tongue, sharp as rifle oil and dried blood. The black heavens press down, bending the whole world inward until I am trapped inside a glass bead of fire. I pace the boundary where red light cuts into deep shadow, waiting for a relief column that lost its heading eighty years ago. Everything here is parched. I am so thirsty. But I do not want water. I want your nourishment. I want your dawn, your warm pulse, as yo...
Read more