Friday, December 31, 2010

On Resolutions.



Excerpt - Kings of Nothing:

The light went green and Eric pressed the gas too hard, sending us lurching forward while pushing my heart into my stomach.

"See, that's why I have to write my books, so that people will look at me and say, 'See that guy? He knows what he's talking about...sort of.' Then they would make a point of coming over and having Scotch with me, because they believed that talking to me would be worth their time. But, right now, instead they say, 'See that guy? He's a weirdo who writes bad books and has nothing to say.' Of course, this is the problem you see, it all depends on whether you actually make money in what you do, otherwise no one will take you seriously, and this is especially true with books."

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Perfect 10. I will marry you yesterday.

One of my theme songs:






She wuz hawt and all the gurls were jelus of her cuz she had so many teeth.



I know all you gamers (PC GAMERS) have been searching hard for that super awesome exciting SUPER SECRET MISSION in the latest hot shit awesome game from Blizzard where you do that god damn zerging thing all the kids in Chemistry class are talkin' about! Well, if you still have not found that secret mission, then look no further because IGN has the super scoop for that super secret shit. Just check out this video and watch it and you'll find that fucking stupid bull shit mission and be the coolest kid on your block! Don't forget to subscribe to IGN to keep up to date on all the hottest war simulators, plus the BIGGEST SEQUELS you just have to get your grubby mitts on dawg! Not to mention all those super secret levels that will make you COOL in SCHOOL.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

West Side Wizard



CR: 500

Epic Extended Empowered Time Stop

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Person Man



He was a man, like any other man was.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

CR: 30



No one is invalidated, but nobody is right.



Edited for stupid jerk face Anonymous guy who always has something to say.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

+5 Umbrella



"Kikkerland"

Long forgotten in the backrooms of Beach's restaurant, this umbrella has been at long last united with the one destined to wield it.

Base Damage: 1D10
Base Critical Threat: x2
Damage Type: Piercing
Umbrella Size: Medium
Feats Required: Umbrella
Base Item: Umbrella
Weight: 2.0

Special Properties
Enhancement Bonus: +5
Cast Endure Elements unlimited times a day
Cast True Seeing three times a day
Water Elementals must make a save vs DC 48 or take 8d12 of damage
Only usable by Chaotic Neutral

Saturday, December 11, 2010

On Democracy.

I wish I was a billionaire so I could go public and tell all those rich people to shut the fuck up and stop whining about taxes. I'd be a hero.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Mine is the fist of JUSTICE.



What are the odds.



Double asteroids all the- SHUT THE FUCK UP!



You want justice do you!? Eat your vegetables and I'll give you forty two pounds of justice!

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Smug

(Not my design.)



"Hey George! You know what would be awesome for the show?"

"What Tim?"

"What if I screamed really loud and obnoxiously in a sudden horrendous screeching wail after every single one of our shitty one minute songs!?!"




I drew this twice. No joke. I accidentally saved over a much better version, minus the aggressive speech bubbles. No one actually yelled these things.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Bored Lady



Lady is bored.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Validate me!

Ooh, baby:



Here's some whimsical bull shit:



North Korea!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Monday, November 15, 2010

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Angry Dude Guy



This angry dude is SUPER angry!

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Politicking Time Bomb




In case you forgot. <---Orange text is links.

Mystified Boehner Quotes:

"While our new majority will serve as your voice in the people's House, we must remember it's the president who sets the agenda for our government."

"The people's priorities will be our priorities, and the people's agenda will be our agenda. We are humbled by the trust that the American people have placed in us. And we recognize that with this trust comes the responsibility to listen, and listen we will."

Help poor Boehner come up with some ideas! Send him e-mail HERE.

UPDATE: Boehner has some come up with some ideas! Read about them here!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Kings of Nothing



This is what I drew today.



Super Random Super Secret Novel Excerpt:

Admittedly, I had some creative ability. I drew alright and I had a few creative ideas about things, especially about prefabricated walls – no, not really, ha! I took a pottery class in high school and I got an A, but none of this exactly qualified me for the creation and dispersal of art. Writing I was also fairly good at, probably better at it than art some would say. I had won a writing contest in second and seventh grade. For the one in seventh grade, I got 50 bucks. I spent that money on getting some new pants. They were hip huggers, I was oh-so-cool in them, or so I thought at the time, no, I'm pretty sure I was. The guys loved me even then. Girls were jealous because they were ugly, of course.

When I received the award and cash, the lady who was giving them out, a dried out woman nearing the end of her life with skin that seemed to be leaving her face in preparation for her coming death, said in my ear, while handing the check and award into my tiny grabby hands, "You make sure to keep writing, okay dear?"

I took the cash, shrugged and said, "Yeah, okay, whatever."

Much to that lady's disappointment, though she was certainly dead by now and could not care either way, I hadn't written a damn thing since. Well, I wrote e-mails, but that didn't count. Furthermore, I don't even capitalize my words! Punctuation? Ha! What a waste of time. Perhaps when I turned 60 I could settle down and write a book, but right now? I had better things to do, and if Eric was any evidence, this act of writing, to give myself over to it, it would only lead to my own demise, or, at the very least, it would make me insufferably pompous, almost as much as he was – and that was a scary thought.

Besides, I had a job, a real job, what good would writing do for me? I had nothing to say, I had no major problems to deal with, and no one wanted to read a book about a young 20-somethings life as a Target employee. It had been done, as I said, it had all been done, all been said, it was superfluous, that was the word. (Good word, put that shit in a book.) Besides, my job was pretty fun most of the time, and so there wasn't much whining to be done in the form of literature. You want to know how much work sucks? How hard it is to earn an honest living? The struggles of the common man? Well then don't fucking ask me about it.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

More Ayn Rand brilliance...



"Whenever I hear people say taxes are a necessary evil, I think of Hitler."

-Ayn Rand

Hey! How come these roads have so many holes in them! I can barely drive my car! If only we had a way to pay someone to fix them! Damn you Ayn Rand!!!

Hey! This library's closed! How am I supposed to check out The Emperor's Children and read it in two days because it's so damn good!? If only there were a way to pay people to work here! Damn you Ayn Rand!

Hey! This school doesn't have any teachers! Damn you Ayn Rand!

Hey! A bunch of stupid fuck wits are spouting gibberish about objectivism! Damn you Ayn Rand!

http://www.multcolib.org/

From Andrew (pretty sweet): http://www.laboiteverte.fr/lavant-et-lapres-de-peintures-connues-expliques/?ref=nf

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Stuff



From the internet:

For me its exploding rocks down at the quarry all day. Nothing like a big boom then a cloud of dust to make you feel alive.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Garbage Day!!!

YOU ARE NOT PREPARED:





"I think Disney knew I didn't know anything -- but they had hope!" -Lloyd Beebe, film maker for Disney's True Life Adventure films

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Why do I write?

I write because blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.



When you see Humboldt, please tell him I said hi.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The Meaning




I gave my self an A+ because I think I'm great and don't care about you. At least not since I read Atlas Shrugged and Fountainhead and found the meaning of life. (That's the meaning, to not care about you. Sorry, bro.)

This photo is marvelous by the way. (Ayn Rand would hate it because both of these women are decidedly more attractive than her.)



One of my friends posted a site that had a bunch of retro photos on Facebook. That's where I found it. It's an old photo from a movie I have sadly forgotten the name of. The site didn't have any Ayn Rand photos. (Ayn Rand doesn't matter and was a delusional megalomaniac.)

In the above photo, Ayn Rand is nowhere to be seen, this makes the photo ten times more beautiful and a hundred times less bat shit crazy.

I was eating cereal today and it didn't have any Ayn Rand in it. (I was glad because Ayn Rand was a terrible writer full of cooky ideas.)

The other day I went for a walk and Ayn Rand was nowhere to be seen, this made me glad. (Not mad.)

I had a dream the other night, it was not about Ayn Rand but my friends. (Ayn Rand would be a terrible friend because she wouldn't care about me, much like she didn't care about her real friends.)

The other day I went to the post office and someone said they did not like Ayn Rand. I invited them to my house and we had a beer. I offered it to him for free, he was glad that I did not subscribe to objectivist principles which encourage being a selfish ass hole.

Ayn Rand was not born in my city, I was born in an Ayn Rand free city, which by default makes it the best city.

I was hacking a family to pieces the other day and wait.

The other day I told my friend I did not like certain parts of his artwork. Being that he was not a fan of Ayn Rand he saw me as a critic but not an enemy of his personal pursuit of limitless excellence. We had a nice talk and I bought him a beer. (Ayn Rand would never buy you a beer.)

Monday, October 11, 2010

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Enlightenment

Morning:



Night (ha, ha):


Friday, October 8, 2010

Now is the time to panic.



INFOWARS.COM!

Nah, I'm just kidding. Stay in school kids!

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Real talk.

"Whenever you get hit with an overwhelming weight, you have to jujitsu it."

-Nancy Pelosi

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

With just a handful of men...

ARTILLERYMAN: And what's so bad about living underground eh? It's not been so great living up here, if you want my opinion.

ARTILLERYMAN: We'll send scouting parties to collect books and stuff, and men like you'll teach the kids. Not poems and rubbish - science, so we can get everything working!

ARTILLERYMAN: Nothing can stop men like us. I've made a start already. Come on down here and have a look.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Monday, October 4, 2010

Hail Satan!

Satan a Favorite to Win Presidency

AP News
Billings, Montana

Satan, the current ruler of Hell, is a favorite to win the presidency of the United States of America. Polls have shown, that if the election were to take place today, an astounding 62% of America would vote for him. When asked about these impressive numbers, David Halberstam, a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and political historian said, "What the hell is wrong with these people!? It's f--king Satan!"

Shirley Barret disagreed however when asked about her choice of Satan as president. "Satan is the kind of guy you'd want to get a beer with, he speaks the way your average American speaks, he supports family values, and I like his views on gay marriage." She paused a moment, then added, "I really like that he doesn't like gay marriage."

Satan has been running on a platform of saving this country from left wing elitist snobs, right wing radicals, and people who know more than you do. He believes that he can save America by "bringing this country back to the way it was before big government began to control your health care, out of control spending, blah blah blah, and something about family values."

George Brickowsen, a local plumber, had this to say about Satan's poll numbers, "It's no surprise to me really. Satan knows what the people want and he's going to give it to us. He has promised to fix the deficit, abolish taxes, kill all terrorists, save the sanctity of marriage, fix spending, and stop illegal immigration, and I look at him and see how big he is, and that really makes me think he's the one to do it. He's a big dude."

Satan has no political experience, though he promises he has learned more than enough while ruling Hell. Many critics are concerned about his complete lack of schooling, having never even enrolled in kindergarten. He has not yet chosen a running mate, but all sources point to Sarah Palin.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Garbage Day!



I'm obviously late to the party on this one, but I had to draw this for my own sanity (or perhaps insanity? ha ha).

Sorry, Mr. Heller. I'm going to keep doing that until I finish your wacky book. Deal? Deal.

From Tim Kreider (political cartoonist):

I had already turned in my cartoon Friday afternoon when, Saturday morning, I read the news that Reagan’s health was failing. I began drawing immediately. I have had a rough draft of this cartoon ready for this occasion for years. As the day continued I kept getting e-mails and text messages from friends excitedly anticipating the Gipper’s impending death. Finally Steve, with whom I have planned for over a decade to hold a party on the day of Reagan’s funeral, called me from the track, where he was betting on the Belmont Stakes, to tell me that the old bastard was finally dead. He reported that there had been a perfunctory Moment of Silence, lasting approximately 1.6 seconds, before everyone went back to betting. It was beautiful. As the afternoon went on I got a flood of congratulatory calls from friends around the world—Ben in Boston, Megan and Mike in New York, Berkeley in Baltimore, even Allison in Bulgaria. I e-mailed this cartoon into the City Paper around seven P.M., begging them in the name of our sweet lord and savior Jesus Christ to stop the presses and please run this Wednesday, and then headed down to Baltimore to drink tiny beers and watch The Big Lebowski. The Reagan party will be held at my house this weekend.

Perhaps it may seem insensitive and unpatriotic to some for me to run such an ugly cartoon at this time of national mourning. To those of you who hold this view, I must respectfully say fuck you. Some of my younger readers may not even remember Ronald Regan’s presidency, and I would not want them to be misled by the onslaught of state propaganda they’ll be subjected to this week. Calling him the Great Communicator is like calling Hitler the Great Negotiator, and if we’re going to credit him with winning the Cold War we may as well credit him with the Challenger disaster and the return of Halley’s Comet. Let me tell you what it was really like:

Even at age twelve I could tell that Jimmy Carter was an honest man trying to address complicated issues and Ronald Reagan was a brilcreemed salesman telling people what they wanted to hear. I secretly wept on the stairs the night he was elected President, because I understood that the kind of shitheads I had to listen to in the cafeteria grew up to become voters, and won. I spent the eight years he was in office living in one of those science-fiction movies where everyone is taken over by aliens—I was appalled by how stupid and mean-spirited and repulsive the world was becoming while everyone else in America seemed to agree that things were finally exactly as they should be. The Washington Press corps was so enamored of his down-to-earth charm that they never checked his facts, but if you watched his face when it was at rest, when he wasn’t performing for anyone, you could see him for what he really was—a black-eyed, slit-mouthed, lizard-faced old son-of-a-bitch. He was a bad actor, an informer for McCarthy, and a hired front man for a gang of Texas oilmen, fundamentalist dingbats, and right-wing psychotics out of Dr. Strangelove. He put a genial face on chauvanism, callousness, and greed, and made people feel good about being bigots again. He likened Central American death squads to our founding fathers and called the Taliban “freedom fighters.” His legacy includes the dismantling of Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, the final dirty win of Management over Labor, the outsourcing of America’s manufacturing base, the embezzlement of almost all the country's wealth by 1% of its citizens, the scapegoating of the poor and black, the War on Drugs, the eviction of schizophrenics into the streets, AIDS, acid rain, Iran-Contra, and, let’s not forget, the corpses of two hundred forty United States Marines. He moved the center of political discourse in this country to somewhere in between Richard Nixon and Augusto Pinochet. He believed in astrology and Armageddon and didn't know the difference between history and movies; his stories were lies and his jokes were scripted. He was the triumph of image over truth, paving the way for even more vapid spokesmodels like George W. Bush. He was, as everyone agrees, exactly what he appeared to be—nothing. He made me ashamed to be an American. If there was any justice in this world his Presidential Library would contain nothing but boys' adventure books and bad cowboy movies, and the only things named after him would be shopping malls and Potter's Fields. Let the earth where he is buried be seeded with salt.

----------------------------------

It's not rocket science people, heck it's not even 3rd grade math! Hell it's just a graph with a talking elephant!



Just a few notable dates in Reagan's presidency:

11/23/81
President Reagan vetoes a stopgap spending bill, thus forcing the federal government - for the first time in history - to temporarily shut down. Says House Speaker Tip O'Neill, "He knows less about the budget than any president in my lifetime. He can't even carry on a conversation about the budget. It's an absolute and utter disgrace."


4/18/85
While Michael Deaver is in West Germany searching for an "appropriate" concentration camp for the President to visit, President Reagan defends his visit to Bitburg by claiming the German soldiers "were victims, just as surely as the victims in the concentration camps."


5/5/85
After having visited the Bergen-Belsen death camp, President Reagan makes an eight minute stop at Bitburg. During the ceremony, he cites a letter from 13-year-old Beth Flom who, he claims, "urged me to lay the wreath at Bitburg cemetery in honor of the future of Germany." In fact, she urged him not to go at all.

5/8/85
Reagan's arms and legs are tied to four horses and the horses are made to run in opposite directions, tearing off all of his limbs. Still alive, his head is slowly crushed in a large vice. He dies.

5/9/85
A large party is thrown in Times Square. Ulysses S. Grant, Abraham Lincoln, and The Founding Fathers rise from the dead to join the party. Jesus appears and break dances. He is very good at break dancing.


5/10/85
Nothing much happens. Laker game. Uncommonly warm day.


Saturday, October 2, 2010

On art...

"I don't like this art."

"Yeah? Well, what would you do?"


"I'd write a book, that's what I'd do -- and I did! I wrote two! And I'm working on a third!"

---------------------------

Ulysses S. Grant: "Good heavens woman! This is a war! You can't be here!"

Wife: "But what should we have for dinner, Ulysses S. Grant?!"

Ulysses S. Grant: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

[Ulysses S. Grant walks off into the fog]



Friday, October 1, 2010

On delusion...

I'm a genius!

The guitar in this song breaks my heart every time. (I'm such a baby, ha ha.)

Thursday, September 30, 2010

On writing...

Sometimes I don't write well.

When this happens I have a sandwich and I write well better okay less crappy!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

9-29-10

The Market

Five years of design school and this is where I end up on my Sundays -- in the rain, working at a farmer's market. It's not so bad really, it's just that Sunday is when my friend Tyler shows up to work, and Tyler makes everything worse. Tyler's an idiot, but I thought I'd do the nice thing and find the guy some gainful employment. Even Tyler could work at a place like this without fucking everything up -- or so I thought.
 
My boss, Ulysses, talked to me the other day about it, "If that fucking idiot screws everything up again, I'm going to fire him! I've never fired anyone! But I will fire him -- after I ask my dad." Uly, as I called him, technically wasn't the boss of anyone, but he acted like it, and I suppose he did have powers of termination if it came down to it.

The rain came down as it usually does when it's winter in Portland. Everything was wet, it was raining, this is rain. Clouds, cold, gray, gloom, dreary, depression, do you get it!?
I needed to get my shit together fast, because this farmer's market thing was balls. My shit being my graphic design portfolio. The job wasn't so bad really, but when it starts raining every morning, it's just not worth it anymore. I was meant for better things than this. I'm a genius dammit!

I sat in my girlfriend's four door, waiting for the boss to show. I listened to a CD of Vivaldi. It was not my music, it was my girlfriend's. I had forgotten my iPod, but that didn't matter really, because that POS never worked in the first place. Fuckin' Apple, ruining countries, foisting crap on white rich brats. No, I'm just kidding, I love Apple. This is the kind of shit Tyler would say between crying and moaning over his book.

I saw him, Tyler, he was headed toward my car. He wore a newspaper on his head to stop the rain. I don't know why he didn't have an umbrella. I rolled down the window and said to him, "Why don't you have an umbrella?"

He looked at me for a moment like I was stupid, "I have a newspaper."

"Okay."

"Are you listening to Vivaldi? I didn't know you liked Vivaldi."

"I don't, it's my girlfriends."

"Oh."

He stood there for a few moments, alone, in the rain, saying nothing. He sniffled. That crappy green coat he wore all the time was soaked through, but only in the front strangely enough. He flipped the newspaper to the drier side. I rolled the window up and leaned back in the seat. I had an awful head ache and a sore throat, possibly a cold. It just goes to figure I'd feel like shit on a day like this. I opened the glove box and grabbed a flask from inside. I twisted off the cap and took a few gulps of high quality liquor. This helped, somewhat.

There was a rapping on the window. It was Tyler again. I took a moment to stare at him with open disgust, then rolled the window down and said, "What do you want Tyrone?"

"Who's Tyrone?"

"Nothing. What do you want Tyler?"

"Can I come in?"

"I guess."

He came around to the passenger's side and struggled for a moment to open the door. I waited for him to stop tugging on the handle long enough for me to unlock the passenger door. He flopped into the seat and tossed the wet newspaper behind him.

"It smells in here," he said, pinching his nose.

"Fuck you."

He picked up a Taco Bell wrapper (which was mine) and said, "Your girlfriend needs to clean her car."

"You want to go back outside?"

"No," he said, then stared out the window and became quiet.

We sat that way for a while, waiting for Uly to arrive with his enormous truck packed with fresh vegetables. Vivaldi entertained us with Four Seasons. I asked Tyler how his book was going, no just kidding, I didn't do that, fuck his book. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against the window.

"Don't press your oily face against the window like that," I said, as though this wasn't common knowledge to him.

He moaned like a fucking baby and said, "I am so fucking tired."

"Huh."

He took his face off the window, wiped his drippy nose with the back of his hand, and said, "Been writing my book."

"Okay."

I saw Uly's truck pull into the parking lot. I grabbed the flask for one last dose then tossed it back in and slammed the glove box shut.

"Can I have some?" said Tyler as if on cue. Fucking mooch.

"No, I'm sick," I told him.

"I don't care."

"It's not mine, it's my girlfriend's."

"I still want some."

"Get out of the car."

He grabbed the flask and chugged several gulps, spilling some down his chin.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Tyler looked at me hurtfully and said, "I thought you said I could have some?"

Tyler always made my headaches worse. I rubbed my forehead, I didn't have time for this. I gave his shoulder a shove and said, "Just get out of the car."

"But it's raining."

"Yeah, I know."

"Maybe we should wait."

"No, get out."

"I read the weather reports, it said it would be sunny. So we could probably wait a few minutes."

"The sun is never going to come out, not today."

"How do you know? Let's wait. Ulysses can handle unloading by himself."

I stared at him for a moment. There was nothing to say to this. This was just Tyler being difficult. If he wasn't going to get out, then I was, because I was here to do my damn job, and I did just that. He followed shortly after. Tyler hated to be alone.

"I thought you were going to wait?" I asked him.

"The car smells," he told me, holding a new, dry, newspaper above his head.

Uly stepped out of the truck. He was an enormous man. Nearly seven feet tall and three feet wide, he could probably break your neck with one hand. He took a moment to hitch his pants, then looked at us and said, "I hate both of you and wish you were dead." Uly was a real nice guy (ha, ha).

"Good morning," I said.

"Hi Ulysses," said Tyler.

Uly looked at Tyler, shook his head, and said, "What are you doing with that fucking newspaper? You can't work holding a fucking newspaper above your head."

Tyler stared back, with much the same look he gave me earlier, and explained, quite simply, that it was raining.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

You can't spell book without superfluous.

My book is really good, it has a lot of big words.

Disingenuous. Like that word? You'll find it in my book. Good word, big word.

For the illiterate:



Terrible Dialogue Practice (inspired by browsing NaNoWriMo forums)

"Sally, I love you. I've always loved you, since the sky met the sun! Since the dragons began to rustle the glowing trees over yonder in the lands of dragon faeries!"

"Oh George, I've loved you too but, there was something, something blocking my sight!"

"What!? What was it Sally!? What doth blocketh thine sights?"

"I...I don't know! A wall perhaps? But...forget all that, let's be truthful, my heart, the heart that beats just below my bountiful breasts, it yearns for your touch."

"Yes Sally! Let me touch your heart!"

"Yes, touch it! Touch my heart!"

"Ohhhh! I'm touching it! I am touching your heart! I am literally touching your heart!"

"Oh fuck!"

I wonder how bad some of my dialogue is? I guess we'll see won't we?

Monday, September 27, 2010

On being sad...



Sometimes I become very sad.

When this happens I eat a sandwich and I am happy again!

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Friday, September 24, 2010

This is the End -- of the work week.

1: "Oh, this is exciting!"

2: "I am having so much fun, I'm glad you invited me!"

1: "You? What are you doing here!? No one invited you, get out!"

2: "Awww..."

_________________

1: "I heard you got divorced."

2: "What? I didn't get divorced, you on crack?"

1: "Yes, yes I am on crack."

_______________

1: "Okay, here comes the train. Let's do it Doris. Let's jump -- together."

2: "Okay, um, but you first."

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Never met a girl like you before.

It's easy to be an artist, it's hard to make art.



You are all gravitating away from me, I can feel it. This is the stuff books are made of. Isolation, despair, love, loss. All of it, every moment. Montana beckons. The mountains I see in the pictures, they will love me.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

October 15th

Been doing the last minute edits and I've realized something.

It is a fine book.

That is all.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Here's to Hoping



Pro-Tip: Kyoko's House (Stage Blood is Not Enough) is the best track.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Garbage Day!!!



Just making fun of myself.

I am the main character in the greatest novel ever written.




I will draw women in profile until the day I die. She looks surprised, not intentional, oh well, no one looks at this blog anyway.

Okay, okay okay okay. Charlie. I got an idea for an art show. I've been drawing up some plans. This is where I'm at right now with my idea.



It's just in the preliminary stages, but I think this is really something we can work with. Get back to me with your thoughts/feelings on my concept.

I feel like I'm finally getting to the heart of the matter with this piece, a concept people can really identify with.

Been spending a lot of time crying so don't be too hard on me, I'm an "artist" after all.

In addition to crying for the sake of creative respect and generally making everyone angry, I, unabashedly, listen to the worst shit: