Tuesday, April 21, 2015

I Wrote A Thing For A Thing And They LIKED IT...

I can't put it here before the magazine comes out but...it's been a while since I've had something in print. I'll show you when it comes out. It makes me happy and it's about something totally cool!

I DID miss a deadline for submissions for CSUF though. I didn't MISS IT but more like, wrote a huge number of rants and things but they were not ready to be published - so, I didn't.

That's what a couple of those messes were below.

It would've been a bummer anyway for some.

Maybe good for some.

But, I'm not going to let you read CRAPPYEMOTIONALEMOCRAP.

That's what Fat Free Milk is for and HAS BEEN for the last 13 years!!!

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. W. H. Auden

This was the best thing that I've written today.

That sentence that you just read above.

I would doubt that it was the best sentence that you've read today.

I don't know. I don't know anythjing about your day. I don't know what was good and what was bad, what worked and what didn't maybe just possiblt that what little that I did maybe helpe a little bit even if it was nothing because...remeber...I havent really written anything yet.
I havent gotten aropund to telling you about glacier-like progression of my depresseion and the regression of I dont even know what to say
I know that its hard to get out of bed but that its hard to keep my heart inside of my body because it needs more blodd pumping through it. My heart needs more hearts too. Ive proven that its a loving thing but it also wants to eat your hearts brains
you, know – I can talk about work and how it's killing me slowly and that maybe my work is like cancer but then when I start typing that I feel like a horrible human being when I have opeople that I know that have dided of cance and a friend even now going through chemo. So im a dick. A worthless, uncaring, selfidsh dick. So. I don't know what to write about. I know that my body is slowly failing me and that I drink too much and smoke too much and that I was very proud of myself for quitting both of thoase things recently. But then, I got treated to dinner at a fancy restaurant and really didnt give a fuck. Anf thats my problem. I care too much but dont gve a fuck. But im getting old now. I give a fuck. I really do.

I dfont know whats going to happen to me and I dont know where im going to end up but im scared about being here, doing the same things. Making the same relationship mistakes and just being here birng here bieng here. It hasnt worked before and its not going to continue to not work It's just going to stop. STOP.

Anf that'll be it. I've almost died before. TWICE. That sucked. And I was supposed to be stronger after it. I wqas and then I got stupid again. My body and my will is failing. Dwindling, I should say.

What do I want? What do I want to become. Not this. Not sl;owly dying on the vine while drinking it's wine. I'm 40 years old now. I've been writing my whole life. I like it sometimes and sometimes I reqally hate it. What I want is to live the last half of my life and to feel allright about it.

It's time to wake up. Or just slowly die. That's how cut and dried it is. TRUST ME. THRUST ME.

I'm weak, but hopeful. And, now music is playing that was super emo for me back when I was 20. This fucking song...I was so heartbroken, so in love...really....

I hope you're well.
I apologize for ranting, but thank you for reading the rant that you just read.

It was the best thing that ive written today.


im going to write like you
im going to write like you would write
im going to write things that other people would like
that they could relate to easier
the stuff that I write
only I like
and sometimes hate
and the stuff that I write
kids would like
when read in storybook form
like I write in Kevin Book form

i hate naps
i like snacks

I hate naps

the end

Saturday, April 11, 2015

I've lost it
not my sanity
something else
something even bigger than losing your marbles
I've lost will, direction/hope
I don't know if I can get it back
its not about me getting older
it's about what I still feel but can't reach anymore
its about staying in my room for the whole day and night
it's about the oppressive weight of depression
I'll call it it DOPEression
and the fire-ant pains in my phantom brain(s)
I was better once
I thought that I was bad then
now I'm really bad

and I guess that's the lesson of the day

it can always get worse
lows become lower

I know that things have just as much capacity to go the other way too
I've lost that positivity also

you were my moon, Miss
I miss me
I miss you, Son

All of this and everything

I've lost it

not my sanity
something else
and everything

Everything and Nothing

Thursday, April 09, 2015

I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I'm having fun
I think I'm dumb
Or maybe just happy
Think I'm just happy
My heart is broke
But I have some glue
Help me inhale
And mend it with you
We'll float around
And hang out on clouds
Then we'll come down
And have a hangover, have a hangover
Skin the sun
Fall asleep
Wish away
The soul is cheap
Lesson learned
Wish me luck
Soothe the burn
Wake me up
I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I'm having fun
I think I'm dumb

Songwriters: KURT COBAIN
For non-commercial use only.
Data From: LyricFind

Monday, April 06, 2015


should be Pac-Man, the clouds should be ghosts
and the stars should be pellets.


Thursday, February 19, 2015

Keep it short.
Pee during commercial breaks.
Hurry up.
Enter password.
There's going to be a twenty minute wait.
I'm sorry, we're all booked up.
Reserve not met.
Limited space for ACME YOGA.
We're sorry, due to low attendance - ACME YOGA's session has been cancelled.
Gas is cheap.
Food is expensive.
I have cancer.
Fireball shots for everyone!
Lost dog.
Please spay and neuter your pets.
Please be kind, rewind.
I don't live in the past.
What do I have to look forward to, said the donkey?
A carrot, said the master.
Bees are dying.
Honey will be expensive.
People are dying.
Honey will be expensive.

It's 6:00 A.M. as I time this.

Type is precious.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

The other day I received numerous texts and Facebook messages on my phone. Apparently, there was a guy running around town dressed up as Spider-Man.

My friends assumed it was me.

C'mon, guys...




Friday, February 06, 2015

Hillians and Veros......

Dr. Octopus
not a hugger

The Joker

Doctor Doom



needs to focus

and I will finish this later.....

Daily Deals Gift Cards Sell Help & Contact Me

If I was a politician, I would lie to you. If I was a scientist, I would show you the facts. If I was a cop, I would write you not poems but tickets. If I was an artist, I would define lines. If you were Jesus, I'd ask you for a prayer. If you were Buddha, I'd ask for enlightenment. If you were a fireman, I'd ask you to please, please help me extinguish this fire.

Friday, January 30, 2015




Tuesday, January 06, 2015

Dear Samantha, this year didn't start off as well as I expected but I'm going to take it and turn it all around and think about it as a positive experience and not a negative one. No details needed but...the overall lesson is for all of planet Earth to not be a Dick York about small things and if you catch yourself being a Dick Sargent about small things then...STOP BEING A DARRIN STEPHENS. Because that's a big thing.

This applies to all of us mere mortals.

Metric- Gimme Sympathy lyrics

Sunday, January 04, 2015

You ask me to play more classical music...

I say to go through my records and pick something that you've never heard before.


Well played, Grasshopper.

Well played.

Saturday, January 03, 2015

My Heart...

is a spaceship.

You're a passenger.

Fare thee well.

I wish you Godspeed, traveller.

I went for a drive again...

I came home three hours later.

Southern California/OC is a strange, strange place.

It makes no sense.

Alaska makes sense.

It's probably a lot harder to drive around aimlessly in certain parts of Alaska, I bet.

That's about all that I have to say.

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

Memoirs of a "Latch-Key" Kid 1984-2014

How many years is that? I can't even do the math though it's right on top of my head, or at least in the heading right on top of the what I'm writing's heads head.

I didn't hyphenate, I usually do - but sometimes when I hyphenate, it makes me hyperventilate...so...I...use...da ellipses......instead......

There's a tablet to my left. It's making me not write right now. If I could stop the Home Depot commercial - I could write about it forever. It wasn't necessarily bad. Most of you wouldn't even notice how bad it was. It easier to share in real life. I will write and maybe it will come back again. Fuck. I'm playing stuff on the tablet via Hulu Plus. You, know? The thing that I pay for for more content and less ads? you know. The thing that I'm writing about right now? I shouldn't be doing this right now. I should be smarter, writing about smart things.

..........waiting for the Home Depot commercial.......ellipsesssssss

still not here

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Listen To Books. Read Music. See Feelings. Hear HERE.

I'm clearing my throat.

For whatever I'm about to write/say, apparently.

I'm here. Still here. Writing stuff.

Sometimes that's enough.


Knuckles dug/deep/burrowing into my eyes.

Wiping away the crust of days gone past, every night. Everything.

Here are my ears opened.

My head starting to turn.

Creaking sometimes. Sometimes snapping quickly left to right.

Like old parts in a factory that work best with age.
Like new parts that need to be broken in.

My eyes have seen enough but...I'm a baby. I'm a newborn fucking baby.
Every blink of mine is a lifetime, wanted/used/wasted.

I think that I'm at the toddler's stage now.

My teenage years are going to be a shit show.



Tuesday, November 18, 2014


You came home stoned from watching sporadic meteors and appreciating their presence.

I've been hand-feeding a stray kitty for hours tonight but really in the last month, in the hope that it stays in my backyard so that it doesn't get eaten by the coyotes that have been hanging out with me in MY FRONT YARD recently.

Apparently, homeless kitties are like Kryptonite to you, you space cadets.

For shame. Before you look up, Josue and Jen - you've got to look down. Meow.

Before you look up?


Your reaction to a homeless kitty was gross.

I'm elevated and looking down on you.


I hope homeless kitty wakes you up when you sleep tonight.

A cosmic, saber-toothed, fucking tiger that bites you deep in your hypocritical heart.

Her name is 

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

The Dreams Were So Vivid, So Haunting, SO REAL...

and then I woke up.

Like, a million times.

I chose not to work today.

I didn't want to.

So, I didn't.

I'm not spoiled.
I work hard and put up with a lot of shit.
I work hard and revel in an overabundance of beauty.
I love it, but...

I chose not to work today.

I didn't want to.

I saw a movie.
I ate crap food.
I went for a drive.
I drove so much that I almost ran out of gas.
I got gas.
I went to the grocery store.
I bought firewood, curry powder, a lottery ticket, TIME Magazine, a lemon, paper towels, orange juice, toilet paper and a packet of blue ink disposable pens.

The movie that I watched was still orbiting around in my head.
I got a text from a friend.
He wasn't doing well/not doing well.
I came home in five minutes.
We talked.
I made a fire.
We talked longer.
and longer...

I chose not to work today.

I'm glad.

My work, my play, does not define my life.

MY LIFE is defined by YOU.

You come to me.
You guys always do.

I'm okay with that.


By a million times.

and then I fall asleep.

Art by JOCK

Monday, October 20, 2014

I miss every single one of you.
And when I don't think of you.
I don't miss you at all.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

All Together. In A Room.

Rocky Balboa
Peter Quill
Strunk and White
Henry Chinaski

Sailor Ripley
Richard Hawley
And James Nachtwey

The Old Man
And James Cameron

Sorry. It’s late.

Sleep well...

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Come back from your trip and trip on what you came back to.

Tuesday, September 09, 2014


erased everything that ive written on this
and now im writing this
with no capitalization
or punctuation in this

the 2 things that i wrote before this - i had to save
i had to wrap my head around what i was saying
or TRYING to say

so i saved it
i saved it
it saved itself so
that i can
write more on it

it will be much more
much more than this
because i what i hover over is
not THIS
but the things that i think
the things that you miss

and sometimes what i save
is sososo
much better than this

so i save it
I want to fist bump you with (SNIKT!) extracted Wolverine claws or fist bump you with Incredible Hulk Hands.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

the worst thing that i could do is be with you
the worst thing that i could do is start golfing
the worst decision that i could make is to not be with you
the best decision ever that i could make is to continue to not golf

Friday, August 29, 2014

Part of my other job is writing shit like this...

***** ******* Interview Questions

Let’s talk shoes.
Give me old school or current celebrity crushes, and why?
If you were going to be a TV show – what would it be?
A movie that you wish that you played a part in?
Fashion mistakes?
Last best meal that you just had?
Song in your head right now.
Underrated band.
Overrated band.
Last book that you read.
You get one week for a vacation in The United States – vacation.
International, Where?
Why are you going to Hell?
Why are you going to Heaven?
What do you do well?
Describe yourself in High School?
Do you do your own laundry?
I’m eating almonds and am going to open up a bottle of champagne while I write this. It just started to rain. I just opened up the bottle of champagne. How does this make you feel?
If you had one thing to carry in your pocket for all time. Only this one thing. Not a wallet or a cell phone or keys – what would it be?
Catcher In The Rye?
What teen-idol are you?
Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis
Last person that hung up on you?
How do you know me?
One word about you.
Two words.
Your epitaph?
You wind down at home after a lot of work – what’s that like?
What do you love about what you do?
Three best friends. Explain. Why?
If you would dress me right now – like, you’re my fashion guy – what am I doing right? What am I doing wrong? Do you want to trade clothes?
One book to carry with you to take on a desert island. One book that you’ve always wanted to burn.
TV, magazines or movies always. WHY?
Buying a girl something very expensive. What would it be?
Innocent or diabolical?
Phone or texting?
What’s a gentleman?
What’s a lady?
What’s fatherhood like?
Last vacation?
How well would you fare in a zombie apocalypse?
If the 13 year-old you would tell you now something now – what would he say?
Star Wars?
If you were a political figure from the past or the present?
What bugs you?
If you could ask one question to you, twenty years from now – what would you say?
Favorite movie. Not Scarface.

Getting tired. Time for sleep….

Monday, August 25, 2014

Walking around in my backyard...

Looking up at the chemtrail Kanjii in the sky.

Time's passing.
You are too.
All of you.
In and out, back and forth.
Sometimes here for a while.
Sometimes never to be heard from again.
I'm still here.

I think.

Friday, July 25, 2014

Every Night For Years. Written By Kevin Malone. Filmed by Evan Schiefelbine.

About 3 years ago I bought this Tomaso Albinoni record that skipped on a five count halfway through a song. I liked the idea of something that looped...organically?
So I'd been wanting to use it for a couple years but couldn't find the right place for it. So I had this lil' idea that I put together as an experiment of sorts to explore the repetition in skateboarding - trying the same thing over and over and over...and how that relates to some things....

--- Evan Schiefelbine

All we ever heard was the same record playing over and over again. Was it the little old lady who played it or the rarely-seen, dumpy-looking son? Every night, exactly at 8:30. A skip in-between to flip the record over and then the music continued. Every night for years.

One night, there was no music. We checked our watches, glanced up at our clocks. The neighborhood slowly trickled out into the street. Murmurs, whispers, nervous glances. Why wasn’t the music playing? The front door opened. The dumpy-looking son walked out, wiped his eyes, shut the door quietly and shuffled down the street.

We never saw him or heard that record again.

--- Kevin Malone

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Fat Free Milk A

Another day or
Another year
Another beat of the heart is 
A bad relationship
A working relationship
An unfathomably-hard-to-believe-how-good-it-is relationship
A certain amount of
Ak-ruh-moh-nee-uhs NESS makes sense
And I hope to continue to make more sense of this nonsense before my

Friday, June 13, 2014


“I will not try to convince you to love me, to respect me, to commit to me. I deserve better than that; I AM BETTER THAN THAT...Goodbye.” 

― Steve MaraboliUnapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

Monday, June 02, 2014


All we ever heard was the same record playing over and over again. Was it the little old lady who played it or the rarely-seen, dumpy-looking son? Every night, exactly at 8:30. A skip in-between to flip the record over and then the music continued. Every night for years.

One night, there was no music. We checked our watches, glanced up at our clocks. The neighborhood slowly trickled out into the street. Murmurs, whispers, nervous glances. Why wasn’t the music playing? The front door opened. The dumpy-looking son walked out, wiped his eyes, shut the door quietly and shuffled down the street.

We never saw him or heard that record again.

DIPS - - -

Fall. Stumble. Run. Walk. Crawl. Skip. Hop. Jump. Fast. Slow. Stand. Sit. Stop. Go. Through life’s Up and Downs.



Buddha remained silent.


Buddha closed his eyes.