Monday, August 30, 2004



Asiatic Anti-Venoms...



Man, you get so lazy - you don't really want to put the effort into telling imaginary people what you've been doing. If what I've been doing involved ninja swords, then I would definitely tell you. I get more enjoyment out of writing nonsense anyway. I only like reading journals of mass-murderers anyway, and they're usually so busy that they don't keep them.

I really need to get back to writing in notebooks.
All of this hi-tech Rosie The Robot stuff sucks more time and energy than the pen and good ol' paper. I'll let you read my books someday. They're all in the garage. I'll vomit them out in the publishing world someday.

Dr. Phil and The Da Vinci Code will stomp on my guts.




Saturday, August 28, 2004



Doyle Brunson's Bad Knees...

Wish me luck today.




Thursday, August 26, 2004



I Wear This Helmet To Protect My Head From When I Have My Epileptic Fits…

I slowed the car to a crawl in the middle of the street to see the fireworks from Disneyland. I looked to my right to see if the men playing softball were looking to, but they weren’t. Were the cars in front of me moving slow because of the fireworks too or did they normally drive that slow?

I didn’t get that movie soundtrack that I wanted. Tower was sold out of them. The Wherehouse had just closed and Target didn’t carry it. The pimply faced, tall teen told me that it was too INDY for them.

I want a lot of random things. Things like the 18 in. Spiderman figure with 67 points of articulation. A string for my bow and a bunch of arrows. I want woodworking tools. A pet crow. But it seems that when I actually do get something in my head, no matter how small – I can’t. Like I’m thinking about things too late. I know that nothing will kill me if I don’t get it, but the gods kind of scuttle me about like a Boll Weevil whenever they get the urge.

Fireworks. Carrots. Soundtracks.

Writing about important things that seem small.

Tonight, these dangle before me.





Tuesday, August 24, 2004



Snagglepuss...

Why write when I have eggrolls to eat? I stopped by the Vietnamese place to pick up some to go. I feel like I don't belong. I don't. I look like the only bastard Asian there. I'm an imposter. A spy sent by the Irish. Seriously, though. Nobody in there but Vietnamese. They could be Romans wearing Viet masks. Maybe. Maybe not. Do I care? No.

The host or hostess always looks at me like I might be a health inspector. Or lost.

I manage to mangle my garbled pronunciation of Chi goia or however the hell you say it. I also ask for the other stuff that I'm not even going to try to spell. Hey, my gook mother left when I was seven, so what do you expect?

Then a dog escaped from the kitchen.

And I went to the video store and rented that movie where Nicole Kidman hides in that town, the movie where the kid dates the porno star, and the documentary about the guy who tracks down the guy who wrote that book.

Seriously. A dog darted right by my legs.




Sunday, August 22, 2004



By The Time You Read This...



I'll be at work serving drinks to drunks.

By the time that I'm done with this, hopefully I'll be asleep.

Last night at a bar, a drunk girl dropped a cigarette on my head, drank my beer and then hit on me. She was on pills. I asked her how she felt. She said that she felt nice and sleepy and that she felt like throwing up. Then she told me that she thought that I was hot. This is what I get.

Tonight I went to a friends birthday party at an ARTIST'S COLONY in L.A. The ARTSIST'S COLONY was right by a big mountain of dirt. I was expecting ants to be at the party...but none came.

Now, I've got a couple of sleeping pills and a crudload of beers in my system to help me sleep. This should kick in soon.

Cartoon Pig threw two baby tomatoes from the balcony and I caught them in my mouth. This is not gay. This is really cool. I swear.




This is Cartoon Pig, M.V. and AL G. of Damnation posing like super model people...





These bunnies guarded the bathroom...





Ian, of Wrist Action was drunk when I got there...





So we tried to stuff his ass in one of the coolers...because...it was ART.





My pretty girlfriend kept tabs on me all night because I wander and she loves me...





Ian went to sleep...





We had a fire going on in THE ARTIST'S COLONY...





And then we all ate SMORES. Which is like art, except just with graham crackers eaten from DURAFLAME LOG-fueled fires. Gross, indeed.

I had more fun talking to the gay guys tonight.

I need more gay friends.

And Duraflame SMORES.

Pills are kicking in...




Saturday, August 21, 2004



Winkle...

I guess sleeping pills do have some uses, huh?

I actually got some sleep.

A little.




Wednesday, August 18, 2004



Benjamin Grimm...



and Mr. Fantastic now does porn. He and his family got kicked out of The Baxter Building and he had no choice. Sometimes even superheroes get the blues.

You know what sucks about comic books? Besides having to talk to other people that like comic books at the comic book store? See, I'm a fairly-kind-of-normal-looking guy. I just look like I need some food and look like I'll be balding in, about five years or so. But, otherwise - I would like to think that I don't fit the generalist mold. Yeah. Yes. I do like fucking reading comic books...BUT...CARTOON PIG saw somebody in the comic book store wearing a chain mail shirt the other day. This is what they wear in The Lord Of The Rings. I would wear this too, if people carried around swords. BUT. THEY. DONT. I don't live off of Florence and Normandy either - so, I don't wear a bulletproof vest. Only ODB, Little Baby Jesus, Dirt McGirt, etc. does. And then you get popped. Which kind of doesn't make any sense to me because...when in Rome? C'mon. If I were living in Ninja world - I'd sure as hell’d be wearing an Anti-Ninja-Force Field-Belt. You better bet your slanted eyes and your uncanny stealth, I would. Hell yeah.

Crap. Ummm...oh yeah. I get embarrassed at the comic book store. Because people talk to me. They ask me questions. They comment on my comics OUT LOUD REALLY LOUD WHEN THEY'RE RINGING THEM UP - HEY WOW, WHAT'D YOU THINK OF THIS? I THINK THAT THE SCARLET WITCH IS HOT, JIM LEE'S RUN ON SUPERMAN ISN'T THAT GOOD I LIKE HIS RUN ON BATMAN BETTER. HAVE YOU SEEN SHE HULK'S TITS IN THE NEW SERIES? WOW! YUK YUKSNARFSNARF!

The people who work there are nice, though - and aren't The Simpson's comic book guy type snobs. But. Sometimes, I get trapped there by somebody. And I don't care too much. Like I give a crap what anybody thinks about me. I just think it's funny, that's all. Like, I felt all-sad the other day because I walked by the room that they have where all of the role-playing, Yo-Gi-Yoh, and Magic The Gathering-type guys play. I walked by and saw two guys sitting there bored out of their skulls. One was looking through a deck of gaming cards and the other looked alone and miserable. Later I saw one of the guys talking to one of the comic book store employees. I guess the rest of his players never showed up. He looked sad and said that he would give them another thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. This kid might have been around, maybe...fifteen? All I really noticed was his Spiderman t-shirt. Okay. I love reading Spiderman comics. I would love a cool t-shirt, but - this kid wasn't wearing a T-SHIRT. It was a collared, short-sleeved shirt. Now, I'm not trying to be a big old snobby bastard here, because we have all had some moments and who knows? Maybe this kid'll be the next Don Juan, Bill Gates, Jesus Christ - whatever. But. Man...if you could've seen this shirt that this kid was wearing. I wanted to rip it off of him, to not chide him, but to give him some neutral clothes, to shave his upper lip and then chop off his mullet. I wanted to remind him that you could just be as nerdy talking to girls. That you could be just as nerdy hanging out in a park doing nothing. Everything is good - BUT! It just made me sad to see a kid waiting in a comic book shop on a weekday, for people to show up to play MAGIC. I used to role-play. Loved it. I loved telling stories and creating scenarios. Loved researching adventures, etc. BUT! I also loved girls, parties, hygiene and getting into trouble.

Too bad that I couldn’t have struck up a conversation with this kid and just shot the shit with him. Talked some nerd stuff, because I know a lot of it, maybe not the newer stuff that he likes - but enough nerd stuff to get by. I would just be cool. He maybe, might look at me and realize that one can still like great crap like comics, geek movies, etc. and still have a social life. Not that having a social life is all that great at times – but…yeah. It does.

I should be a Big Brother for geeks. I would take them to Comic Book Conventions and to Strip Clubs and to Public Places. I would make them meld all of these things together.

Geek is cool.

Just don’t sit in a comic book shop waiting for other geeks to show up.

Beats sports, I guess.

But, then…Sports Bars have booze.

Excelsior!




Tuesday, August 17, 2004



FUCK...

Too much talky talk.
Too many distractions.
Forget trying to write.
I don't see how married people do it if they don't have a door to close.
Though I'm not married.
Blahhh...
Write in vacuums.
Don't write.
ddsvcdsv
vdsvdsv
dsvdsvdsv
dsv






Monday, August 16, 2004



1000x...

I have that condition where your legs get all antsy and achey when you're in bed. So, even when I'm tired sometimes, I can't sleep and I have to get up and move my legs around like a drunk Von Trapp, or sometimes I'll eat because there's nothing else to do. Then, right about when the sun starts to come up - then, the mad ant crawls in my legs subside and I can go to sleep, usually giving me about two hours before I have to get up for work.

My eyes are red and scratchy and I always look like a raccoon because I'm an insomniac. People have asked me before I was wearing makeup because of how dark the smudges around my eyes get. If they're a boy, I usually run and try to kiss them.

Anyway. I now encourage not sleeping. Anytime that I try to sleep and it's not happening? As a rule, I now have to go to the computer and start writing until the fidgeting or insomnia stops. That means no internet, no stupid blog things, no news. Only WORD.

And there you have it.

And now I have to go buy catfood and hairspray at Target.

And to look at the toys.






Jawa Sand Crawlers...



I think that The Olympics would be a lot more interesting if they unleashed baby sharks in the pools while people were swimming and gave all of the gymnasts ninja swords or two 9mm's.




Thursday, August 12, 2004



Broke My Promise...

Two bruised ribs from a waterslide.
A skinned spine, knee and left arm to compliment the right.

I realize that I have a problem with swimming.

Admitting that I have a problem is the first step to curing myself of this horrible addiction that I carry.

From this day forth, I am...water-free.





Tuesday, August 10, 2004



Gwen Stacey's Broken Neck...

I promise to not hurt myself at the pool party tomorrow.
I've had a pretty decent gouge in my right arm from the last one a couple of weeks ago. It has looked nasty and I'm glad it's almost fully healed. With my luck, I'll probably mess up the other one.

Never get drunk and do anything that involves water, people.

Not with Water People. I mean, in the water.

Definitely DO get drunk with Water People if you ever encounter any.

Mermaids and Mermen might be cool to party with.

Especially Mermaids.

Just hope that they don't smell like fish.




Sunday, August 08, 2004



Ashlee Simpson...

So, was totally bored out of my mind for a good portion of the day. Needed to sleep because this is something that I never do and it was one of the first Saturday's that I didn't have to attend a birthday party, funeral or celebration of a funeral. I slept a lot, but unfortunately, it was not the sleep of the dead that i very, rarely attain - it was the sleep granted by The Great Demon Of sporadicticity. Yeah, Scrabble judges. You go.

I watched Attack Of The Clones, for the poopeenth time, watched Bubba-Ho-Tep and watched myself slowly go insane. I was supposed to go out to Long Beach for a rockstar friend's party but didn't go because I wasn't going to go with my car and Cartoon Pig didn't want to drive.

I farted around forever at the house and then finally went out after midnight. SO L.A. time. It would be a lot cooler and a lot more entertaining if I actually lived there. Maybe not.

Went to a couple o places. Saw some friends. I guess the theme of the night was Girls Hit On My Girlfriend And Tell Me How Much I Have To Appreciate Her Night. Which is cool and all but also makes me want to kick them in the bi-sexual crotch because, yes, I know, okay - so - shut your vagina...unless you want to come home with us...which could've happened, but - who cares. Maybe. Can happen. Need it to? Nope? Sooner or later, there'll be a crazy post in my future. Maybe.

Anyways...I like Gnomes.

And I've been typing this in-between bouts of my girlfriend puking.

The Gnomes are taking over.

Goodnight.




Saturday, August 07, 2004



Why I'm A Horrible Boyfriend Reason No. 643832...

her - Honey, I dreamt that you died!
Me - That sucks. Really? How?
her - I don't remember. It was horrible.
Me - Well, maybe I AM dead and this is just a dream, and then when you wake up, I'll really be dead.

She starts to cry.




Friday, August 06, 2004



This Is My 777th Post...






Thursday, August 05, 2004



Diebold Voting Machines...



So, since I'm a yellow, lazy bastard, totally tired and just plain out of trinkets - I'd rather post a list about what I could be writing. (again)

Why I hate the computer
My old notebooks
Me and kids
My version of a room
Why I cant write
Why I cook and why I don’t eat
Why I drink so many liquids
Insomnia history
Latch key kid
Write a series of books like THE GREAT BRAIN
Write your own version or The Brothers Lionheart but use your old medieval trilogy idea


But, I did write a little on these two cool-ass places.

Word up.

gee funk money playa hayta dolla dolla bills y'all yoyoyo




Monday, August 02, 2004



Hammurabi's Code Of Underwear...

You should come visit me over here.
I really think you should.
I'll be happy.
And trust me - you want to make me happy.
You really do, I know it.
Focus today on making me squeal like Ned Beatty.
You don't even have to touch me in the place where my bathing suit covers.
Which is France. My bathing suit covers France.
That was stupid.
But made me laugh.

Goodbye, Toadface.

That was stupid too.

And didn't make me laugh.