Either way, Onward with the teaser!
1/25/09
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!
1/4/09
Th full array of sounds i make on a daily basis.
mmmmmmmnnn..
Ehrm.
khak, kha-khough.
sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiik.
p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-pphbh.
eshsshshshshshshhhhhhhck.
Heh.
Puh. (Peh).
graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw.
Ehrm.
khak, kha-khough.
sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiik.
p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-pphbh.
eshsshshshshshshhhhhhhck.
Heh.
Puh. (Peh).
graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw.
12/25/08
2000 word month-by-month retrospecive of an entire year written in under an hour.
I didn't proof read or draft this, nor did i really fact-check. I just wrote and wrote until i got to today. So, uh. Here. You can keep it.
Day After Christmas, 2008.
It’s going to be 2009 soon and I’m glad of it. A lot of good things happened in 2008. If I tried to make a list of all the things I’ve learned this year I’d get sidetracked and start talking about sex or politics or sexual politics or comics or something. A hell of a lot happened though.
In January I was in the middle of a really really shitty time with Louisa, everything was spinning out of control and I was being kicked out of the apartment. I think I learned a lot about my sister then, what about her I could trust and, more importantly and crushingly, what I could not. I also had a crush on a girl in my writing class.
In February I started dating that girl in my writing class and learned her name, so that was cool. I officially left the apartment and have since never spent another night in the place, even when offered a place to sleep. Especially when offered a place to sleep. Every time that offer was made I wanted to break something important. But those offers didn’t come until about 3 months later. I was still in the middle of a shit storm. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with mail. Louisa and I stopped talking completely.
In March Danica and I had sex for the first time, and we started to really become seriously involved. Those were both good things. I started hanging out with Danica’s friends. I had no idea they’d be such great people. I’m thankful that I found them, I’d be worse person if it weren’t for each of them. I can’t think of a day that month that was different from any other day, I was getting used to things and went to sleep happy almost every single night. Those nights were punctuated by trips out behind Ashton Hall for cigarette breaks and bullshitting sessions. I was having fun for the first time in a long time.
In April i think Louisa and I started talking again. I started to really feel a part of my group of people, Danica and I were sailing pretty smoothly. On the third of that month was Katie’s birthday and Stephyn made weed brownies. There were two O’s in one pan. We watched Jurassic Park. It was life-changing. I spent most weekends of that month stoned.
May was a good month, except for the fact that I learned Mark wouldn’t be enrolling again in the fall. This worried me a lot. We were a tightly knit crew by then, doing everything together. We’d go downtown, ride the bus around, kick it here and there. It’s in May that everyone says “fuck it” and starts slacking off until finals week. We were no exception. We had a lot of fun.
In June I moved out of the dorms and into the Wesley Apartments with Clay, Matt and Wes. It was during this month that I really got to know those guys and expanded my social world a little. I’d go across the street to Booker’s house and hang out on the porch during the day, I’d go to Art on the other side of the alley from my building. That was a great class. I improved more as an artist in that class than I have in any other. I met Aaron toward the end of June, though we were classmates in a class of four students that entire month. We had fun. It was cool.
In July I sort of took the month off and got stoned a lot. Danica and I would passively argue about how much weed I’d be smoking, Stephyn and Mark would come down from Mt. Vernon and hang out on weekends, complain about not being able to find jobs. I miss Mark more than ever now, writing this. I’d go to the Asian market and get all sorts of oriental delights. I’m pretty sure that I met Rubio and really started to hang out with him daily in July. He’s one of the most interesting people I met that summer. I’m also pretty sure that it was in July that the dude from Booker’s house tried to get me into bed, but that could have been August. It was hot, but really pleasant. I’d wake up, kick it with Rubio and those guys a little, play Pokemon Ranger, hang out with Danica, have sex on a tiny twin bed that was raised four feet off the ground in a room with no air conditioning, take a shower, get stoned with Rubio and those guys, eat Pocky and go to sleep. I think Soul Calibur IV came out that month too. I met Michael and we began to write the book. Rubio asked me to do his album art. It was a really good feeling.
In August Danica and I had a series of hard conversations. Stephyn and Mark finally had jobs by then, they were coming down more and more often. Bumbershoot happened and I didn’t go. It was my last month in the apartment and most of the weekends were spent with Steph on our computers scouring craigslist for apartments. In mid August Steph crashed his bike. Mark had to go back to California. I haven’t seen him since. I finished my last summer class. Stephyn and I found an apartment, then decided we didn’t like it. We did this roughly five times a week. I worked out a lot in August, got to know Matt really well, started to understand the self-hating-Asian thing. It’s a lot like the self-hating-Jew thing. Ethnicity is weird. Michael and I continued to write the book.
In September we finally settled on a few places and we found a perfect one. And we fucking got it. Danica and I were doing well, but I had to go home so I missed her. Louisa and I had a meltdown concerning mail again. We stopped speaking. Stephyn and I moved in, signed the lease, Stephyn sold his car to pay first and last months’ rent and deposit and we started living together. When I left we had no furniture. Danica and I were sleeping on the floor. Danica moved into her house with the girls. I left for Indiana, looked for cars at Duke Gold’s Subaru and Volkswagen dealership. I met Duke. He was a very tan, very large man. He seemed friendly. I didn’t buy a car and just drove my old one from Indianapolis to Seattle with John and Damien. Damien is a strange person. When we got to Seattle he was dumbstruck when he saw Danica. He didn’t know she’d be as pretty as she is. I felt sort of bad for him, and I felt proud of myself. I got home and Katie was back from California with tales of Mark for all of us, Stephyn was there too. Kat and Zion were at my apartment to greet me as well when I finally pulled up the driveway. At that point there was one chair in the whole place. Nobody really minded, they were all happy to be there. I was happier that day than I’d been in a long time. John and Damien left and I started up class. I took three studio art classes and one creative writing class.
In October Stephyn began his job-search. He was already running low on cash, and it was a big worry on everyone’s mind. I didn’t want him to get evicted; I didn’t want a different roommate. I wanted him working and paying rent. I’d already paid the first six months up front. It was stressful. On top of this I had class and a girlfriend to keep up with. It hits me at one point that we’ve almost been together 9 months. My longest relationship up to that point had been 11 months, on and off and largely long distance. In October I began to fall into a lull. Things stopped being exciting. I started smoking pot again, started watching a lot of Anime. Didn’t do a whole lot of school work. Zion and Kat stopped hanging out with us as much. Steph and I painted and furnished the apartment to a state that it was livable. Louisa and I started talking again. I got the last scraps of my stuff out of her place and looked around, knowing that I was truly gone from there. It had been home for two years. It was sad. I felt loss. I hadn’t felt anything that really stuck with me in a long time.
In November it became clear that I was clinically depressed again. I stopped doing any pleasure drawing. I stopped doing any pleasure reading or writing. I didn’t update my blog. I smoked a lot of pot. I did a lot of school work. I made a lot of excuses and attempted to shroud a lot of mistakes. Danica and I hit the 9 month mark. I was tired during dinner. I got her a cookie monster hat. It was nice. Obama got elected. That was cool. Stephyn still didn’t have a job and everyone was screaming silently at him about it, asking how the search was going, talking outside his presence about it. Everyone came to me for news. I told them all to calm the fuck down. I told myself the same thing. It became clear that he would be unable to pay rent that month. I started to worry. Our apartment was just starting to look and function well. I missed Mark. I started to show some cracks, and everyone noticed them long before I brought them up.
In December I had an emotional breakdown. Or maybe it was late November. Rubio, Danica and I hatched our project for the SPU talent show, I started reading Ingersoll. Finals approached. I worked a whole hell of a lot. Stephyn finally got a job and an enormous weight was lifted. School finished and the snow fell. The city shut down, I had to go to Oak Harbor, I came back and I got on a plane for Indiana. I came back to find myself alone. I no longer know anyone here. I am no longer friends with these people. My dad is really nice, really gracious. My mom is the same. I talk with my dad, and I learn that that the owner of Duke Golds was dead. His daughter died of cancer, his wife left him and one night he went into his office and shot himself. The dealership closed. I thought about how many people i've met in passing that are now dead for horrible reasons.
The new year is coming. I don’t know what I learned. I don’t know what to resolve. I don’t know what this year meant. I normally have a pretty clear idea of what I gained and what I lost at the end of a year, but this year it’s out of focus. A lot happened, I gained a lot, but it’s all so unclear to me. I lost some things, but they’re also fuzzy. I know I’m leaving some things out, I know that there isn’t a solid line between 2008 and 2009, that I’ll be the same person on the 1st as I was on the 31st. It’s a gradation.
I can see how far I’ve come, or at least in what directions I have traveled. I can see that I am no longer where I was. I can learn things, I can deduce meanings. I can examine it. I can’t change 2008. And once I actually go through the motions of 2009, the exact same thing will probably still hold true.
Day After Christmas, 2008.
It’s going to be 2009 soon and I’m glad of it. A lot of good things happened in 2008. If I tried to make a list of all the things I’ve learned this year I’d get sidetracked and start talking about sex or politics or sexual politics or comics or something. A hell of a lot happened though.
In January I was in the middle of a really really shitty time with Louisa, everything was spinning out of control and I was being kicked out of the apartment. I think I learned a lot about my sister then, what about her I could trust and, more importantly and crushingly, what I could not. I also had a crush on a girl in my writing class.
In February I started dating that girl in my writing class and learned her name, so that was cool. I officially left the apartment and have since never spent another night in the place, even when offered a place to sleep. Especially when offered a place to sleep. Every time that offer was made I wanted to break something important. But those offers didn’t come until about 3 months later. I was still in the middle of a shit storm. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with mail. Louisa and I stopped talking completely.
In March Danica and I had sex for the first time, and we started to really become seriously involved. Those were both good things. I started hanging out with Danica’s friends. I had no idea they’d be such great people. I’m thankful that I found them, I’d be worse person if it weren’t for each of them. I can’t think of a day that month that was different from any other day, I was getting used to things and went to sleep happy almost every single night. Those nights were punctuated by trips out behind Ashton Hall for cigarette breaks and bullshitting sessions. I was having fun for the first time in a long time.
In April i think Louisa and I started talking again. I started to really feel a part of my group of people, Danica and I were sailing pretty smoothly. On the third of that month was Katie’s birthday and Stephyn made weed brownies. There were two O’s in one pan. We watched Jurassic Park. It was life-changing. I spent most weekends of that month stoned.
May was a good month, except for the fact that I learned Mark wouldn’t be enrolling again in the fall. This worried me a lot. We were a tightly knit crew by then, doing everything together. We’d go downtown, ride the bus around, kick it here and there. It’s in May that everyone says “fuck it” and starts slacking off until finals week. We were no exception. We had a lot of fun.
In June I moved out of the dorms and into the Wesley Apartments with Clay, Matt and Wes. It was during this month that I really got to know those guys and expanded my social world a little. I’d go across the street to Booker’s house and hang out on the porch during the day, I’d go to Art on the other side of the alley from my building. That was a great class. I improved more as an artist in that class than I have in any other. I met Aaron toward the end of June, though we were classmates in a class of four students that entire month. We had fun. It was cool.
In July I sort of took the month off and got stoned a lot. Danica and I would passively argue about how much weed I’d be smoking, Stephyn and Mark would come down from Mt. Vernon and hang out on weekends, complain about not being able to find jobs. I miss Mark more than ever now, writing this. I’d go to the Asian market and get all sorts of oriental delights. I’m pretty sure that I met Rubio and really started to hang out with him daily in July. He’s one of the most interesting people I met that summer. I’m also pretty sure that it was in July that the dude from Booker’s house tried to get me into bed, but that could have been August. It was hot, but really pleasant. I’d wake up, kick it with Rubio and those guys a little, play Pokemon Ranger, hang out with Danica, have sex on a tiny twin bed that was raised four feet off the ground in a room with no air conditioning, take a shower, get stoned with Rubio and those guys, eat Pocky and go to sleep. I think Soul Calibur IV came out that month too. I met Michael and we began to write the book. Rubio asked me to do his album art. It was a really good feeling.
In August Danica and I had a series of hard conversations. Stephyn and Mark finally had jobs by then, they were coming down more and more often. Bumbershoot happened and I didn’t go. It was my last month in the apartment and most of the weekends were spent with Steph on our computers scouring craigslist for apartments. In mid August Steph crashed his bike. Mark had to go back to California. I haven’t seen him since. I finished my last summer class. Stephyn and I found an apartment, then decided we didn’t like it. We did this roughly five times a week. I worked out a lot in August, got to know Matt really well, started to understand the self-hating-Asian thing. It’s a lot like the self-hating-Jew thing. Ethnicity is weird. Michael and I continued to write the book.
In September we finally settled on a few places and we found a perfect one. And we fucking got it. Danica and I were doing well, but I had to go home so I missed her. Louisa and I had a meltdown concerning mail again. We stopped speaking. Stephyn and I moved in, signed the lease, Stephyn sold his car to pay first and last months’ rent and deposit and we started living together. When I left we had no furniture. Danica and I were sleeping on the floor. Danica moved into her house with the girls. I left for Indiana, looked for cars at Duke Gold’s Subaru and Volkswagen dealership. I met Duke. He was a very tan, very large man. He seemed friendly. I didn’t buy a car and just drove my old one from Indianapolis to Seattle with John and Damien. Damien is a strange person. When we got to Seattle he was dumbstruck when he saw Danica. He didn’t know she’d be as pretty as she is. I felt sort of bad for him, and I felt proud of myself. I got home and Katie was back from California with tales of Mark for all of us, Stephyn was there too. Kat and Zion were at my apartment to greet me as well when I finally pulled up the driveway. At that point there was one chair in the whole place. Nobody really minded, they were all happy to be there. I was happier that day than I’d been in a long time. John and Damien left and I started up class. I took three studio art classes and one creative writing class.
In October Stephyn began his job-search. He was already running low on cash, and it was a big worry on everyone’s mind. I didn’t want him to get evicted; I didn’t want a different roommate. I wanted him working and paying rent. I’d already paid the first six months up front. It was stressful. On top of this I had class and a girlfriend to keep up with. It hits me at one point that we’ve almost been together 9 months. My longest relationship up to that point had been 11 months, on and off and largely long distance. In October I began to fall into a lull. Things stopped being exciting. I started smoking pot again, started watching a lot of Anime. Didn’t do a whole lot of school work. Zion and Kat stopped hanging out with us as much. Steph and I painted and furnished the apartment to a state that it was livable. Louisa and I started talking again. I got the last scraps of my stuff out of her place and looked around, knowing that I was truly gone from there. It had been home for two years. It was sad. I felt loss. I hadn’t felt anything that really stuck with me in a long time.
In November it became clear that I was clinically depressed again. I stopped doing any pleasure drawing. I stopped doing any pleasure reading or writing. I didn’t update my blog. I smoked a lot of pot. I did a lot of school work. I made a lot of excuses and attempted to shroud a lot of mistakes. Danica and I hit the 9 month mark. I was tired during dinner. I got her a cookie monster hat. It was nice. Obama got elected. That was cool. Stephyn still didn’t have a job and everyone was screaming silently at him about it, asking how the search was going, talking outside his presence about it. Everyone came to me for news. I told them all to calm the fuck down. I told myself the same thing. It became clear that he would be unable to pay rent that month. I started to worry. Our apartment was just starting to look and function well. I missed Mark. I started to show some cracks, and everyone noticed them long before I brought them up.
In December I had an emotional breakdown. Or maybe it was late November. Rubio, Danica and I hatched our project for the SPU talent show, I started reading Ingersoll. Finals approached. I worked a whole hell of a lot. Stephyn finally got a job and an enormous weight was lifted. School finished and the snow fell. The city shut down, I had to go to Oak Harbor, I came back and I got on a plane for Indiana. I came back to find myself alone. I no longer know anyone here. I am no longer friends with these people. My dad is really nice, really gracious. My mom is the same. I talk with my dad, and I learn that that the owner of Duke Golds was dead. His daughter died of cancer, his wife left him and one night he went into his office and shot himself. The dealership closed. I thought about how many people i've met in passing that are now dead for horrible reasons.
The new year is coming. I don’t know what I learned. I don’t know what to resolve. I don’t know what this year meant. I normally have a pretty clear idea of what I gained and what I lost at the end of a year, but this year it’s out of focus. A lot happened, I gained a lot, but it’s all so unclear to me. I lost some things, but they’re also fuzzy. I know I’m leaving some things out, I know that there isn’t a solid line between 2008 and 2009, that I’ll be the same person on the 1st as I was on the 31st. It’s a gradation.
I can see how far I’ve come, or at least in what directions I have traveled. I can see that I am no longer where I was. I can learn things, I can deduce meanings. I can examine it. I can’t change 2008. And once I actually go through the motions of 2009, the exact same thing will probably still hold true.
Christmas resolutions: paint more
Hooray for gestural digital painting! I should do it more often!
Additionally: Bitch just got gut-punched!!
12/24/08
Ugh.
I drew a couple of comics today. It was really quite fantastic, i just jumped on it and churned out two of them. regrettably i don't have a scanner, so FUCK YOU.
I'm really, really, really bored. I leave the house and just find someplace to sit and draw, then i drive around a little until i find another place to sit and draw. Then i come home, and i sit and play cortex command. Then i drink until i sleep. And then i sleep until i get up. And then i leave the house and find a place to sit and draw.
I turn 21 ten days after the new year. I'm sort of pissed about it. This nation runs on magic numbers.
I'm really, really, really bored. I leave the house and just find someplace to sit and draw, then i drive around a little until i find another place to sit and draw. Then i come home, and i sit and play cortex command. Then i drink until i sleep. And then i sleep until i get up. And then i leave the house and find a place to sit and draw.
I turn 21 ten days after the new year. I'm sort of pissed about it. This nation runs on magic numbers.
12/17/08
Holy-Christing-Fucks, it's December.
I haven't posted anything in over a month.
Well, i've neglected this blog. It's started to sprout little hairs in places, gotten dirty in the crevices.
Things that have been happening:
I've survived finals week. My life on the internet has been practically nonexistant because of this. I spent nights slaving away at the acetelene torch in the metal shop, making little robots for my metalworking class. I've been drawing paralell and converging lines for my perspective class, been etching my copper plate over and over again for printmaking, writing, deleting, rewriting, revising and finalizing essays for my Creative Nonfiction class. It's been tough.
In late November i came to terms with the fact that i've got a problem. I am clinically depressed. I don't know why, but i've taken some steps to get help. There were mornings when i weighed my options and decided it would be better if i just didn't wake up. There were nights when i would be awake and not know why. There were moments when i'd look at my closest friends and hate them for about five seconds, then want to jump off a bridge for thinking such awful things.
Today I went over to a friend's house and promised I'd do his album art before the week was up. I sort of wonder how the fuck i'm going to do that, considering i'm going to be in Texas in a few days and Oak Harbor until then, nursing my lady friend back to health after the surgeons rip out little pieces of her skull. I am, of course, talking about Danica getting her wisdom teeth taken out.
I have procured a Twitter from the powers that be, and i hope to also procure some magic mushrooms before the end of winter break. These things, when mixed, should yield fantastic and odd results. Stay tuned.
Speaking of the overlap of my life and the internet, i am going to start a podcast. I don't know how yet, but we've recorded a series of conversations and after i'm done editing them together and snipping out the boring bits there might be something worth releasing there. Again, stay tuned.
I'm involved in the SPU talent show doing something that, to my knowledge, has never really been done before. It's a hip-hop/spoken word/comics jam session of sorts that should, if nothing else, turn some heads. I'm excited about it, it's going to be a lot of fun.
I'm also woefully behind on an immensely daunting graphic novel project with a friend. It's not like i don't have anything i should be doing, i guess.
I'm smoking a little more than i should be. I've cut back on cigarettes considerably, but my room mate and i have gotten a wonderful, bulbous piece of glass named Burbles who we hang out with a little too often. He's to our coffee-table what a vase is to a normal, respectable person's coffee-table. All we do, it seems, is lay about, smoke pot and watch anime. Sometimes Harry Potter or documentaries. In our defense, there really is nothing quite so relaxing as a joint and a game of Pokemon Ranger for the DS. Relaxation has been in short supply, relatively speaking.
In short i'm worried about my life and where it's going. This is not news, but i am making some changes. I'm only taking ten hours next quarter and i'm going to try to create the sort of environment i had this summer, wherein i could work on important things and do the things i love at the same time.
It is very very cold here. It snowed and the city turned off. I made snow cocks. I'm still the same old person, i suppose.
Well, i've neglected this blog. It's started to sprout little hairs in places, gotten dirty in the crevices.
Things that have been happening:
I've survived finals week. My life on the internet has been practically nonexistant because of this. I spent nights slaving away at the acetelene torch in the metal shop, making little robots for my metalworking class. I've been drawing paralell and converging lines for my perspective class, been etching my copper plate over and over again for printmaking, writing, deleting, rewriting, revising and finalizing essays for my Creative Nonfiction class. It's been tough.
In late November i came to terms with the fact that i've got a problem. I am clinically depressed. I don't know why, but i've taken some steps to get help. There were mornings when i weighed my options and decided it would be better if i just didn't wake up. There were nights when i would be awake and not know why. There were moments when i'd look at my closest friends and hate them for about five seconds, then want to jump off a bridge for thinking such awful things.
Two days ago i saw a woman in Greenlake named Jessica and i guess i'm in therapy now, 95 dollars and hour. I bought two fish, Mugen and Jin, who are separated by a clear plastic partition in their mini-tank to keep them from murdering each other.
(Pictured: My Fuckin' Fishes)I have procured a Twitter from the powers that be, and i hope to also procure some magic mushrooms before the end of winter break. These things, when mixed, should yield fantastic and odd results. Stay tuned.
Speaking of the overlap of my life and the internet, i am going to start a podcast. I don't know how yet, but we've recorded a series of conversations and after i'm done editing them together and snipping out the boring bits there might be something worth releasing there. Again, stay tuned.
I'm involved in the SPU talent show doing something that, to my knowledge, has never really been done before. It's a hip-hop/spoken word/comics jam session of sorts that should, if nothing else, turn some heads. I'm excited about it, it's going to be a lot of fun.
I'm also woefully behind on an immensely daunting graphic novel project with a friend. It's not like i don't have anything i should be doing, i guess.
I'm smoking a little more than i should be. I've cut back on cigarettes considerably, but my room mate and i have gotten a wonderful, bulbous piece of glass named Burbles who we hang out with a little too often. He's to our coffee-table what a vase is to a normal, respectable person's coffee-table. All we do, it seems, is lay about, smoke pot and watch anime. Sometimes Harry Potter or documentaries. In our defense, there really is nothing quite so relaxing as a joint and a game of Pokemon Ranger for the DS. Relaxation has been in short supply, relatively speaking.
In short i'm worried about my life and where it's going. This is not news, but i am making some changes. I'm only taking ten hours next quarter and i'm going to try to create the sort of environment i had this summer, wherein i could work on important things and do the things i love at the same time.
It is very very cold here. It snowed and the city turned off. I made snow cocks. I'm still the same old person, i suppose.
11/12/08
Decided to write something really creepy...
Do you ever feel like you aren’t alone when nobody else is in the room? I feel that way a lot. Not in a “two sets of footprints” way or anything, but more of an ominous, “hunted” sort of way. Like if I open the closet I’ll find a man in there who didn’t want to be found just yet. Like what happened earlier.
No, no, in my experience there’s only ever been one set of footprints. I don’t believe in a God that likes long walks on the beach. If I believe in one at all then he’s probably the sort with a blackened sense of humor. Did I ever tell you that God’s trying to kill me? This is a theory that I have, anyway. I think that God’s wanted me dead for a while. Everything I’ve read in the bible suggests this. So it’s my job to call him on his joke. That’s how I stay alive, I think. I see the ironic and telling ways that god might want to kill me (to make a point or teach a fucking lesson or something) and I call it ahead of time. That way his punch line goes limp. You can’t have a three-panel strip without a strong third panel, so i can steal that strength out from under the whole plot-arc. I told that to my therapist once and his questions changed after that day, back when I still had a therapist. There’s probably something very wrong with my outlook. That’s what people say. I look in their eyes and I see some pretty hefty planks.
I like that song “Desperado”. I like it when Linda Ronstadt sings it the best. Ya know, “That’s just some people talkin’” or whatever? I like that. If you think about it long enough, it’s sort of true of everything, right? I guess if you think about anything for long enough it either gets truer or turns into bullshit. That’s one of those things that just gets truer. Maybe not to you, but to me.
Where’s the soul hang out? At this question your mind may think about those Hostess “where’s the cream filling” commercials, or the Wendy’s one that says “Where’s the beef”. And from there your mind might weave that thought into one about that Notorious B.I.G song “What’s Beef?”. This line of thinking never really got anybody anyplace special. Anyway, the soul must be… under the bones. Or something. I’m not a fuckin’ doctor, I dunno.
The human body has 206 bones. My jacket has six buttons. My feet have five toes each. There’s a number for everything. 6 billion, going on 7. When a government destabilizes, does it make a noise? Is it a roar, or a shriek? A rattle? What about when a heart breaks? Some cliché shattering of glass? A bull horn?
When a person hits a low, I think they think about elementary school. That’s what I do. I wonder what it would look like if it burned to the ground. My old school, I mean. I went to a lot of schools. I made friends each time.
What’s all this bullshit gonna look like when it’s over? I mean, like, when the world ends? Is it going to be fine, white ash? It is going to be pock-marked with craters? Blackened by wars? Red with blood? Or is it going to be beyond reckoning? Is it going to be blinked out of existence? Will God just hit an off-button? Considering that we can conquer a nation with the press of a button it wouldn’t be that surprising if God stitched an off-button into the world somewhere. I wonder where it is. The bottom of the Marianas Trench? Up in the clouds somewhere? God probably went wireless with it, all he’s gotta do is finger the remote control and we’re gone.
I’m not trying to be all “sinners in the hands of an angry god”, I’m just thinking about the end. What’s it going to matter then? There won’t be a church, won’t be a Buddha, won’t be a Democratic Party. There won’t be fascists, girls who don’t call, crazy sisters or shitty beer. I know for a fact that there won’t be a “me” anymore. There won’t be a “you” either coming up soon. But that’s a different story altogether.
No, you see, this gun in my hand, why does anybody get one of these? And this chair you’re strapped to, why are you, of all people, stuck in it? I wish I had an answer. And I guess, in a funny way, that’s my point, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t think people should have guns. You shouldn’t be here in this basement, listening to me ramble, reflecting on all the stuff that’s been important to you, all the people who did well by you and everything. You should be home with your family. You got a family? Oh. Well, it’s not for everybody. Certainly wasn’t for me. Well, you’re still young. I really hate to do this, but you understand right?
If you have anything to say, I’ve got the tape recorder going. It’ll be heard, I can promise you that. Go ahead. I’ll shut up and give you the floor for a few minutes. I guess I owe you that much, but we’ve gotta get this show on the road here pretty soon.
No, no, in my experience there’s only ever been one set of footprints. I don’t believe in a God that likes long walks on the beach. If I believe in one at all then he’s probably the sort with a blackened sense of humor. Did I ever tell you that God’s trying to kill me? This is a theory that I have, anyway. I think that God’s wanted me dead for a while. Everything I’ve read in the bible suggests this. So it’s my job to call him on his joke. That’s how I stay alive, I think. I see the ironic and telling ways that god might want to kill me (to make a point or teach a fucking lesson or something) and I call it ahead of time. That way his punch line goes limp. You can’t have a three-panel strip without a strong third panel, so i can steal that strength out from under the whole plot-arc. I told that to my therapist once and his questions changed after that day, back when I still had a therapist. There’s probably something very wrong with my outlook. That’s what people say. I look in their eyes and I see some pretty hefty planks.
I like that song “Desperado”. I like it when Linda Ronstadt sings it the best. Ya know, “That’s just some people talkin’” or whatever? I like that. If you think about it long enough, it’s sort of true of everything, right? I guess if you think about anything for long enough it either gets truer or turns into bullshit. That’s one of those things that just gets truer. Maybe not to you, but to me.
Where’s the soul hang out? At this question your mind may think about those Hostess “where’s the cream filling” commercials, or the Wendy’s one that says “Where’s the beef”. And from there your mind might weave that thought into one about that Notorious B.I.G song “What’s Beef?”. This line of thinking never really got anybody anyplace special. Anyway, the soul must be… under the bones. Or something. I’m not a fuckin’ doctor, I dunno.
The human body has 206 bones. My jacket has six buttons. My feet have five toes each. There’s a number for everything. 6 billion, going on 7. When a government destabilizes, does it make a noise? Is it a roar, or a shriek? A rattle? What about when a heart breaks? Some cliché shattering of glass? A bull horn?
When a person hits a low, I think they think about elementary school. That’s what I do. I wonder what it would look like if it burned to the ground. My old school, I mean. I went to a lot of schools. I made friends each time.
What’s all this bullshit gonna look like when it’s over? I mean, like, when the world ends? Is it going to be fine, white ash? It is going to be pock-marked with craters? Blackened by wars? Red with blood? Or is it going to be beyond reckoning? Is it going to be blinked out of existence? Will God just hit an off-button? Considering that we can conquer a nation with the press of a button it wouldn’t be that surprising if God stitched an off-button into the world somewhere. I wonder where it is. The bottom of the Marianas Trench? Up in the clouds somewhere? God probably went wireless with it, all he’s gotta do is finger the remote control and we’re gone.
I’m not trying to be all “sinners in the hands of an angry god”, I’m just thinking about the end. What’s it going to matter then? There won’t be a church, won’t be a Buddha, won’t be a Democratic Party. There won’t be fascists, girls who don’t call, crazy sisters or shitty beer. I know for a fact that there won’t be a “me” anymore. There won’t be a “you” either coming up soon. But that’s a different story altogether.
No, you see, this gun in my hand, why does anybody get one of these? And this chair you’re strapped to, why are you, of all people, stuck in it? I wish I had an answer. And I guess, in a funny way, that’s my point, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t think people should have guns. You shouldn’t be here in this basement, listening to me ramble, reflecting on all the stuff that’s been important to you, all the people who did well by you and everything. You should be home with your family. You got a family? Oh. Well, it’s not for everybody. Certainly wasn’t for me. Well, you’re still young. I really hate to do this, but you understand right?
If you have anything to say, I’ve got the tape recorder going. It’ll be heard, I can promise you that. Go ahead. I’ll shut up and give you the floor for a few minutes. I guess I owe you that much, but we’ve gotta get this show on the road here pretty soon.
9/16/08
Too Easy
There wasn’t much to say, honestly. We’d seen tornadoes and tidal waves, we’d seen crashing cars and The Smashing Pumpkins. We’d seen the best thing since sliced bread, and we’d seen the greatest tragedy yet. We’d seen FREE IPODS and HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA. We thought about where it would end. We like zombie films, but we don’t have very high hopes where that’s concerned. Let a boy dream?
We’d heard about wars in the East, and those Japanese beer-vending machines. And we’d also heard of drugs to try, of music to listen to, shows to watch. We’d heard of dirty politicians and asshole news anchors. Crystal Skulls and Charles fucking Darwin. We like the Hubble Space Telescope, but we don’t know where they take astronaut applications. What kinds of references should we be acquiring?
We’d read about all sorts of cool stuff.
And, honestly, with tired eyes and ringing ears, we decided there wasn’t much left to contribute. Towel thrown.
We’d heard about wars in the East, and those Japanese beer-vending machines. And we’d also heard of drugs to try, of music to listen to, shows to watch. We’d heard of dirty politicians and asshole news anchors. Crystal Skulls and Charles fucking Darwin. We like the Hubble Space Telescope, but we don’t know where they take astronaut applications. What kinds of references should we be acquiring?
We’d read about all sorts of cool stuff.
And, honestly, with tired eyes and ringing ears, we decided there wasn’t much left to contribute. Towel thrown.
9/2/08
About two months ago i caught my girlfriend doing something surprising.
To Preface:
Danica is among the smartest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and she had never really taken comics that seriously during the course of our relationship. She is a literature person, always trying to get me to borrow Dostoyevsky and Steinbeck books so we can talk about them. I borrow them or buy a copy and get a few chapters in. And then i get bored or lose the book, that's just the kind of person i am.
And every time i do this it becomes more and more probable that i'm the dumb one. I'm the comedic, dim-witted male who the intelligent, nuanced female puts up with on the family sitcom. My passion is tolerated and, past that, not really thought of. I understood why, and trust me: if I weren't at peace with that I would have given up a long time ago.
So it was the one of the hottest days of the summer and my apartment doesn't have air conditioning. It was late in the evening and I knew that Danica had been in my room napping for quite some time.
I usually don't feel the need to knock on my own door, but i did anyway and called out her name. There wasn't an answer, just a mumbled "humph...". I said her name again. She replied.
"what?"
"you're still here?"
"yeah, come in."
The air in the room was warmer than any of the other stiflingly hot rooms in the apartment. Why hadn't she moved to a cooler place?
Danica was laying on her stomach on my bed, legs bent at the knee and feet crossed in the air, reading a comic book. I can't remember which one, but it was apparent that she'd picked through my shelves/stacks of books to find it.
So a few things went through my head in the next two seconds:
1) I was bracing, ready for the coming judgement for passing up the books she wanted me to read in favor of... this.
2) I wondered what she thought about the fact that i wanted to one day draw picture stories for other people like me.
3) I thought that maybe she taken the day trying to understand and be fair to me, trying to get her head around why anyone over 14 would enjoy and be moved by anything in my collection.
4) I got ready for the moment she would lose respect for me.
I was awaiting and dreading what was about to come: my brilliant girlfriend's judgement of the thing i love.
***
This was when I noticed that, when i knocked at the door and interrupted her, i'd actually pissed her off. She was involved in the story that was being propped up by my pillow. She liked.
And then, seeing that she was annoyed by my presence, only one thought was glowing in my mind.
"This is the happiest i have been in years."
So as i type this in my chair, she sits on the couch and reads the last few pages of Maus. A week ago she was reading one of my Clowes books. She jumped right into the middle of Sandman and enjoyed it. She recommends Scott Pilgrim to people now. She's read books that i own but haven't even gotten to yet. She's gone off and gotten books about comics for herself that i've never heard of.
Now, I'm not saying that she's a "Comics Person" now, I'm not saying I've somehow saved her or re-structured her passions. She still nags me to read The Brothers Karamazov and I'm still too lazy to do it. Not much has changed.
What i am saying is this: As i look back through the past few years, not only have most people reacted the way i feared Danica would, but i've failed to plant that seed in people. I haven't stirred up an interest, haven't inspired a relationship with comics in anyone. And it felt good to finally do it for someone the first time. And, on top of that, someone for whom i care so deeply.
Danica is among the smartest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and she had never really taken comics that seriously during the course of our relationship. She is a literature person, always trying to get me to borrow Dostoyevsky and Steinbeck books so we can talk about them. I borrow them or buy a copy and get a few chapters in. And then i get bored or lose the book, that's just the kind of person i am.
And every time i do this it becomes more and more probable that i'm the dumb one. I'm the comedic, dim-witted male who the intelligent, nuanced female puts up with on the family sitcom. My passion is tolerated and, past that, not really thought of. I understood why, and trust me: if I weren't at peace with that I would have given up a long time ago.
So it was the one of the hottest days of the summer and my apartment doesn't have air conditioning. It was late in the evening and I knew that Danica had been in my room napping for quite some time.
I usually don't feel the need to knock on my own door, but i did anyway and called out her name. There wasn't an answer, just a mumbled "humph...". I said her name again. She replied.
"what?"
"you're still here?"
"yeah, come in."
The air in the room was warmer than any of the other stiflingly hot rooms in the apartment. Why hadn't she moved to a cooler place?
Danica was laying on her stomach on my bed, legs bent at the knee and feet crossed in the air, reading a comic book. I can't remember which one, but it was apparent that she'd picked through my shelves/stacks of books to find it.
So a few things went through my head in the next two seconds:
1) I was bracing, ready for the coming judgement for passing up the books she wanted me to read in favor of... this.
2) I wondered what she thought about the fact that i wanted to one day draw picture stories for other people like me.
3) I thought that maybe she taken the day trying to understand and be fair to me, trying to get her head around why anyone over 14 would enjoy and be moved by anything in my collection.
4) I got ready for the moment she would lose respect for me.
I was awaiting and dreading what was about to come: my brilliant girlfriend's judgement of the thing i love.
***
This was when I noticed that, when i knocked at the door and interrupted her, i'd actually pissed her off. She was involved in the story that was being propped up by my pillow. She liked.
And then, seeing that she was annoyed by my presence, only one thought was glowing in my mind.
"This is the happiest i have been in years."
So as i type this in my chair, she sits on the couch and reads the last few pages of Maus. A week ago she was reading one of my Clowes books. She jumped right into the middle of Sandman and enjoyed it. She recommends Scott Pilgrim to people now. She's read books that i own but haven't even gotten to yet. She's gone off and gotten books about comics for herself that i've never heard of.
Now, I'm not saying that she's a "Comics Person" now, I'm not saying I've somehow saved her or re-structured her passions. She still nags me to read The Brothers Karamazov and I'm still too lazy to do it. Not much has changed.
What i am saying is this: As i look back through the past few years, not only have most people reacted the way i feared Danica would, but i've failed to plant that seed in people. I haven't stirred up an interest, haven't inspired a relationship with comics in anyone. And it felt good to finally do it for someone the first time. And, on top of that, someone for whom i care so deeply.
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