In 8th grade my science teacher made an analogy in chapel about human connections and why it is smart to only date one person, then to stay with that person your entire life. Being a science teacher, he didn’t seem overly qualified to speak to the nuances of interpersonal relations, but I liked the man so I listened to what he had to say. He was, tentatively, an authority on the subject.
He likened people to pieces of duct tape. He stuck two squares of the tape to another, sticky sides intermingling and fusing. He illustrated how difficult it was to pull those two pieces apart. He was very dramatic, he put on one goddamned-hell-of-a-show. “These sure are… hurk… difficult to break apart… errf!” he’d say, to which we looked at each other and laughed uncomfortably.
Then he got two more pieces of tape. We fell silent, awaiting a sinful example. He stuck them on his sweater. Then he stuck them to each of his pant legs. Then he stuck them on his sweater again. We all knew what was going to happen next. They wouldn’t be as sticky that way! Lint and bits of dead skin would block the adhesion! Fuck!
At long last he stuck the two pieces together. He pulled them away from one another.
But they still wouldn’t come apart. He seemed really mad at his analogy at that point, and gave up.
Those were days that were bereft of clarity.
I remember another time, when we were about to graduate from junior high. We were going to take part in a commencement ceremony that was not for anyone’s benefit but our parents’, and my parents thought the whole idea was retarded right alongside me. So I didn’t want to be there, and nobody wanted to be there, and nobody’s parents stayed any longer than they had to.
During the rehearsal we young, hormone-charged 8th grade boys began to get a little crazier. We’d swear in class and shrug off any punishments like they “ain’t no thang”, we’d wear t-shirts and jeans that violated dress code. We’d make fun of each other. We’d make fun of the school we were about to leave.
There was a boy named Jay R Neel. He was called Jay R Neel and nothing but Jay R Neel. Nobody called him Jay, or J-Man or any of that garbage. First name, Middle Initial, Last name. Three syllables.
On the day of the rehearsal he made a crack about jesus just getting off the cross, cause he was supposed to be God an everything, and how he could have thought it through a little more completely. He was being absurd on purpose. He did this in front of the principal of the school. The joke fell a little flat. Everyone got really quiet to await the principal’s response. The principal’s name was Scott Bostick. Everyone called him Mister Bostick. I had been on his bad side before. I knew what was coming.
After calling Jay R Neel up to the front of the sanctuary, where chapel was held, Mister Bostick said to Jay R Neel “If you say something like that in front of everyone’s parents tomorrow night, you will be expelled and you will repeat your eighth grade year somewhere other than Trader’s Point Christian Academy. Don’t be an idiot, because if you want me to dress you down theologically in front of everyone, you just tell me. Do you want that?” Terror was within and amongst us. Jay R Neel could hardly speak.
“n-No” he replied.
“That’s what I thought, Jay, that’s what I thought. Get to my office now and wait for me there.”
When I was a senior in high school Scott Bostick died in a car crash. He somehow went over the median of interstate 65 and ran into a truck of some kind, head-on. I was able, if I wanted to, to get the day off from school for his funeral. I took the opportunity, as I was nearing my graduation from high school. School wasn’t nothin’ but a thang. I went and sat through it. I did not see Jay R Neel in attendance.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
NUDES!!!
I've been doing nudes non-stop for like 3 hours. HOORAY FOR NUDES! I think i'll start doing men next, unless that makes me gay.
I
I
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Graceful Conflict Resolution.
Okay, so i'm driving down the street on which i live this morning, and i see a very pretty woman in her thirties with her three kids and a bike and a red wagon and some other shit. Her youngest son is wearing a red poofy coat and swinging his arm around in a circle. They look like a family group of nice herbivores on some David Attenborough program. It's really cute. i smile at her as i pass, and she smiles back. I decide in that moment that it is a beautiful day.
After i pass her i see that the Toyota in the oncoming lane pulls across into my lane. I look for a reason for him to be cutting across my path, a driveway or something, and see none. His eyes are locked with mine. He's very clean-looking but not square, like a suburban dad who used to snowboard a lot in college or something. he's about 35. I am in a good mood and pull up onto the curb next to him and roll down my window. He doesn't look all that happy. I decide to be amiable.
"Hi, can i help you?" the dude behind me is expressing some impotent rage at both of us.
"Did you see those people trying to cross the road back there?" he says.
"Yeah, the family?" he still doesn't look happy, but not exactly pissed. Maybe he's the dad or something, or just a really dedicated neighbor. Or just some middle-aged guy looking to be angry at a young person. I couldn't tell. "I didn't see a crosswalk or anything."
"Well, you don't need a crosswalk.", he says. I know in my heart that this man is talking out his ass. I try to be generous, because this man could really ruin my day.
"Well... don't you? I mean, if you want the right-of-way?" the guy behind me beeps his horn a little. I turn around. "Man, fuck that guy." i say as an aiside.
"Yeah, FUCK THAT GUY" he bellows, leaning from his window and flipping the guy off. The guy behind me stops honking. I'm glad the focus isn't me at the moment. I start to sweat, i don't want to be there anymore. I'm in the middle of a giant clusterfuck of residential-street rage. before he can speak again, i interject:
"Look.. uh, sir. i didn't mean to cause any problems or anything, but we're sort of causing one for these people right now." I indicate to the long line of cars stacking up behind us.
Some manly sort of understanding happens, a kind that i'm not overly familiar with because i'm not that manly. He nods, i nod and he pulls out of my way. The windows go up, the honking stops and we go where we need to go.
I check in my rear-view and i see the pretty woman and her little kids making it safely across the street. I see the man in the Toyota waving to them. Everyone smiles, and while i'm a little out of alignment from what just happened, i realize again that it is a beautiful day.
After i pass her i see that the Toyota in the oncoming lane pulls across into my lane. I look for a reason for him to be cutting across my path, a driveway or something, and see none. His eyes are locked with mine. He's very clean-looking but not square, like a suburban dad who used to snowboard a lot in college or something. he's about 35. I am in a good mood and pull up onto the curb next to him and roll down my window. He doesn't look all that happy. I decide to be amiable.
"Hi, can i help you?" the dude behind me is expressing some impotent rage at both of us.
"Did you see those people trying to cross the road back there?" he says.
"Yeah, the family?" he still doesn't look happy, but not exactly pissed. Maybe he's the dad or something, or just a really dedicated neighbor. Or just some middle-aged guy looking to be angry at a young person. I couldn't tell. "I didn't see a crosswalk or anything."
"Well, you don't need a crosswalk.", he says. I know in my heart that this man is talking out his ass. I try to be generous, because this man could really ruin my day.
"Well... don't you? I mean, if you want the right-of-way?" the guy behind me beeps his horn a little. I turn around. "Man, fuck that guy." i say as an aiside.
"Yeah, FUCK THAT GUY" he bellows, leaning from his window and flipping the guy off. The guy behind me stops honking. I'm glad the focus isn't me at the moment. I start to sweat, i don't want to be there anymore. I'm in the middle of a giant clusterfuck of residential-street rage. before he can speak again, i interject:
"Look.. uh, sir. i didn't mean to cause any problems or anything, but we're sort of causing one for these people right now." I indicate to the long line of cars stacking up behind us.
Some manly sort of understanding happens, a kind that i'm not overly familiar with because i'm not that manly. He nods, i nod and he pulls out of my way. The windows go up, the honking stops and we go where we need to go.
I check in my rear-view and i see the pretty woman and her little kids making it safely across the street. I see the man in the Toyota waving to them. Everyone smiles, and while i'm a little out of alignment from what just happened, i realize again that it is a beautiful day.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
ArtDump
I've been doing lots of non-sequential art lately. I think i'm going to compile a list of my worst fears.
I take on too much worry, if my therapist is to be believed.
I had a dream that i was a pumpkin, and then all this shit just started happening.
I really like that leonard cohen song "The Partisan", and i chopped up the lyrics and pasted them around after the fact to come up with this one.
Sometimes i look at my shoelaces and i wish they were a slightly brighter shade of beige.
Nonemore.
I take on too much worry, if my therapist is to be believed.
I had a dream that i was a pumpkin, and then all this shit just started happening.
I really like that leonard cohen song "The Partisan", and i chopped up the lyrics and pasted them around after the fact to come up with this one.
Sometimes i look at my shoelaces and i wish they were a slightly brighter shade of beige.
Nonemore.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Article coming: Lookbook
I did not know about lookbook until one of my more stylish friends told me about it. And it is hideous beyond reckoning, eroding my formerly rational mind into a fine ash.
I plan to write an article (accompanied by pictures) for your reading pleasure. because FUCK LOOKBOOK.
Yes, i had to try it out...
I plan to write an article (accompanied by pictures) for your reading pleasure. because FUCK LOOKBOOK.
Yes, i had to try it out...
Friday, January 30, 2009
It's Coming, Motherfuckers.
That's right, bitches, it's on its way.
Prepare yourself for the following:
-Poetry
-Music
-Sequential Art
-Apes
-Space
-Science
-Fiction
-Glasses
-Betrayal
-Oppression
-Challenging and Expressive Monologue by Danica Humpries
-The Illest of Hip-Hop Narration by Isaac Rubio
-One Dope-Ass Picture Story by This Motherfucker Right Here
and, most importantly:
-All of these things working together to create a multimedia experience that is more than the sum of its parts.
You are excited now, and should give me money.
Prepare yourself for the following:
-Poetry
-Music
-Sequential Art
-Apes
-Space
-Science
-Fiction
-Glasses
-Betrayal
-Oppression
-Challenging and Expressive Monologue by Danica Humpries
-The Illest of Hip-Hop Narration by Isaac Rubio
-One Dope-Ass Picture Story by This Motherfucker Right Here
and, most importantly:
-All of these things working together to create a multimedia experience that is more than the sum of its parts.
You are excited now, and should give me money.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Holy Shit, Biggest Douche Ever
From a certain someone on facebook that is now my nemesis for being a longwinded, over-educated twatburger. Holy shit, i am so glad i haven't had a class with this chode, or any chode of this magnitude.
Monday, January 26, 2009
It's Easy Being Green
I’m Allen and my state bird is the road cone who sits in the grass between Eastbound and Westbound,
About as personal as the complimentary IKEA pencil offered by the Plexiglas dispenser next to the carts.
Twenty one Septembers ago what was I? Was I Some God’s one-in-a-million, waiting in a queue for Some Meat to hide in?
They’d lie, “Yes, Amen”, but I was a sex puddle; a worrisome smear like every other.
Today I’m this healthy crocodile who sits under our watering hole, one who’s over the whole “tears” thing.
I’ve had my man strings plucked in the rainy season, seen a magic number or two in the neutral sky, but I can’t even remember my plate number.
I’d squeeze the fine gray oil from my bones if I knew how, so I’ll do yours first for practice.
And as it dryly leaves then maybe I’ll hit it with a hammer or something harder, whatever they used on the last Dodo egg.
Then quickly plead for the stuff to come home before it gets too bent about the whole thing. Understand, I'm just covering my own bases.
I can lengthily talk about myself, plucking my own “strings”, to use my own vernacular.
And it could fuel the chills that run up you, make you wretch your blue sick all over my tasteful dust-in-so-much-wind.
What a waste that we rarely sit down and sort through this, the afterbirth - that we just bang on our pots and apologize about it later.
About as personal as the complimentary IKEA pencil offered by the Plexiglas dispenser next to the carts.
Twenty one Septembers ago what was I? Was I Some God’s one-in-a-million, waiting in a queue for Some Meat to hide in?
They’d lie, “Yes, Amen”, but I was a sex puddle; a worrisome smear like every other.
Today I’m this healthy crocodile who sits under our watering hole, one who’s over the whole “tears” thing.
I’ve had my man strings plucked in the rainy season, seen a magic number or two in the neutral sky, but I can’t even remember my plate number.
I’d squeeze the fine gray oil from my bones if I knew how, so I’ll do yours first for practice.
And as it dryly leaves then maybe I’ll hit it with a hammer or something harder, whatever they used on the last Dodo egg.
Then quickly plead for the stuff to come home before it gets too bent about the whole thing. Understand, I'm just covering my own bases.
I can lengthily talk about myself, plucking my own “strings”, to use my own vernacular.
And it could fuel the chills that run up you, make you wretch your blue sick all over my tasteful dust-in-so-much-wind.
What a waste that we rarely sit down and sort through this, the afterbirth - that we just bang on our pots and apologize about it later.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Preview: Video-Comics-Poetry-HipHop Project
I figured i'd put up a teaser of a panel from a 90+ panel video-comic i'm doing in conjunction with a poet and an MC, to be performed on Friday at SPU. Hint: I am having sex with the poet, and the MC is my homie.
Either way, Onward with the teaser!
Either way, Onward with the teaser!
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