Friday, May 21, 2004



Yoda's Bland Food...



First thing I see
when I twist off
the cap of a beer
is Dagobah fog.

And a lifetime of solitude...




Thursday, May 20, 2004



Seriously...

Have I missed the bus or was I not supposed to be able to buy a ticket anyway? I just don't get it. I'm either the biggest waste in the universe or I'm grasping at the coats of demonic millionaires a coupla seconds too late. I'm like a stray dog weaving in-between lanes of highway traffic. Maybe I should stop and take a breather? Maybe I rested too long that last time. Everytime I stop, I put myself in more danger...but maybe if I pull my leg over my head and lick myself, one of those cars might notice me, stop...and take me home. To a place of warm fireplaces, food, comfort and heavy petting...

Yes. I said heavy petting...






To Get To The Other Side...



If you combined the whole Blogger thing with the old Atari video game FROGGER - then maybe there'd be a point to this.




Wednesday, May 19, 2004



The Taskmaster Knows All of Your Moves Even Before You Do Them Because He Studies Them On Videotape Before You Fight…



And the beat goes on even for those suffering from heart attacks. Black markers on black souls and the color black is used in too much writing. Work is a bitch, and don’t you just fucking hate that bitch from work? I make food for my girlfriend and never eat it. I’ve become my mother. She’s very short. I’ve seen her twice in the last eleven years. That either makes me old or her - not too attentive. Maybe both. My friend’s mom told me the other day that she thought that I was 22. I said thank the gods I’m not anymore. I feel sorry for Ernest Hemingway because he pussed out and because he was a jock and couldn’t survive being a tough guy today. Kerouac did not become a roman candle – he became a fat dud firework. His last wife looked exactly like his mother. I couldn’t marry my mother because she’s too short...and I need lots of attention.

And the beat goes on even for those suffering from heart attacks. Black markers on black souls and the color black is used in too much writing. Work is a bitch, and don’t you just fucking hate that bitch from work? I make food for my girlfriend and never eat it. I’ve become my mother. She’s very short. I’ve seen her twice in the last eleven years. That either makes me old or her - not too attentive. Maybe both. My friend’s mom told me the other day that she thought that I was 22. I said thank the gods I’m not anymore. I feel sorry for Ernest Hemingway because he pussed out and because he was a jock and couldn’t survive being a tough guy today. Kerouac did not become a roman candle – he became a fat dud firework. His last wife looked exactly like his mother. I couldn’t marry my mother because she’s too short...and I need lots of attention.




Tuesday, May 18, 2004



Fat Man And Throbbin'...

I just saw one of those two person bikes. The guy in the front was dressed up as Robin The Boy Wonder. The guy on back wasn't dressed as Batman, which made it even weirder.

I waited for The Joker to follow on a unicycle - but it never happened - so I got in my car and drove home.




Monday, May 17, 2004



Melatonin...



Lost a paper that had about five story ideas and a list of things to do.

So now I'm here, just kind of twiddling my thumbs on this keyboard. I gathered up all of my movies to return to the video store. I have Netflix but still go to the video store occasionally, because, you know - it's just so hard to mail those Netflix envelopes back, y' know? I also have my bow propped by the door. I'm going to take it to that archery store place thingy to get it strung. Then I can start shooting arrows at people and chirping birds. I also took off the back of the huge tv that we have. We broke the connector thing off of the back. When I popped of the back panel, I made something else come loose too. It's brains and nervous system were all too complicated and web-like - so, I guess I have to find somebody to help me lug that thing to a TV repair shop. Then I will go back home and work on my screenplay about demon conjuring, binding spells, Hell and The Necronomicon...






Malone On Babies...

What sucks about baby pictures is that time passes and then you look at the picture afterwards and then realize that the kid looks nothing like the baby picture anymore and it’s not as fun. Then, maybe, like, twenty years go by, and then you get all astounded by how young the baby was.

Yeah.




Friday, May 14, 2004



Dork...

I just got done making my car payment over the phone. I always talk to the same girl. She's nice. We shoot the shit and fill each other in on what's been happening lately. After we were done talking, I told her goodbye and then said, "Be good".

Be good?

What the hell is that all about?

Oh. Now I remember...I'm retarded.




Wednesday, May 12, 2004



John Constantine…





Waking up can be a mistake. Some days, I feel like I’ve made a bad choice. People who die in their sleep may be geniuses. Maybe they found out something in dreams that I never will. Maybe they had a divine moment of REM clarity and said holyshitfucknowigetitwhatthehellwasithinking? Then they’re done. Pop goes the cork. Bright burns the light. Sink the ship. Fries are done. Game Over, Ms. Pac Man. Fireworks. Smoke in the air. The crowd leaves. Holiday over. Laughing all the way to Narnia, Hogwarts, Orange County, Krynn, Hoth, Middle Earth, Oz, Hollywood, and to that place where The Brothers Lionheart went.

I’m quiet now. Maybe I cashed in all of my emotional stocks way back in the 80’s and 90’s. I’ve made some bad investments. Now, I just seem to float around all gossamer-like. Kind of like the one, thin spider web that seems to stick to your face no matter how much you claw at it when you go out in the backyard to water your lawn late at night. I won’t go away – but I’m not as big as I could’ve been. Just a tad bit annoying. Making my presence known. Not doing any real damage. Somebody once compared Jimi Hendrix to the thin wire filament of a burning light bulb. The light that burns twice as bright, burns half as long. That’s how I feel. Like the slow parts of a good movie. Like radioactive waste. I know I’m still young, but you really should’ve known me before. I was crazier. I fucking either wanted to be left alone to scribble away in the darkness, to think, to break things…or wanted to question and tear the outside world apart. Now, I wish that everything was quiet. Silencio, por favor. I don’t think. And when I do. It passes through my brain like caffeine. All energy dissipates as soon as it’s fleetingly conjured. I smile a little, but always look like I’d be happier somewhere else. I wish I knew where that place was. It’s definitely not in front of a computer screen. It’s definitely not outside. Definitely not inside my head, or out of it. What makes me feel happy now? I’m not depressed or anything. I’m just talking. I know that a lot of my biggest changes have happened in small amounts of time and sometimes the smallest change can happen in a long time. I know that if love and life played by our rules, then that pretty, little picture in our head would be a reality.

Slow, progressive, Earth-shaking change was cool back in the day. Spending a couple years here or there doing the same-ass things - but making adventures in the meantime was nice – but we were a lot younger then. What happens when the amount of time starts stacking? What happens when the amount of decay overpowers the fresh growth?

You get the fuck out of town. Okay. Where and for how long? Guess you have to find out along the way, eh? Change yourself? Duh. Whatever. Instant change is like ramen noodles. Unsatisfying and shitty.

This might not make sense – but like I care. Keep your snide, little comments to yourself, or go visit a clever BLOG. Say what you want. Just don’t be funny, because I’m doing all of the fake, unreal cleverness here.

You know why I liked Bukowski so much? Because he was honest. He was ugly. He was the poetic John Merrick. He was sad. Depressed. Brilliant. A pig. He wanted to be left alone, but needed love on his own terms. He went postal before postal was postal – but he went postal on paper. That last sentence makes sense if you slow it down.

Jumanji’s in my heart, but the Hellraiser Cube’s in my pocket. I don’t know what to do.

I really do wish that I could meet Han Solo and have a drink with him. He’d understand, and just say a coupl of gruff sentences that WOULD MAKE SENSE TO ME AND SUM UP THE WHOLE DEAL. Then we’d have more blue drinks served in Tupperware glasses, and double-team a gal with tentacles for hair.

After work today, I was at a stoplight and saw the mayor of my city walking across the crosswalk. I leaned my head out of my car and said hello. He said, Hi Kevynn! That’s nice, even if he is a politician.

I like my cats, my friends, toys, comic books. I also like porn, threatening mean people with violence, and fucked up music. I’m writing about absolutely nothing.

I need to live on a ranch and just make all of this stuff go away. Trust me – I’m not trying to be all complicated and deep. I’m far from that and I don’t want your sympathy. Your condolences are like cheap crack. It strings you out in the end. No caloric value to it. Ample amounts of empathy does not make a healthy diet. I need direction. Something other then TAKE A LEFT AFTER THE STOP SIGN or GET A NEW JOB. I need something … I need it like Dracula does. I’ll know it when I taste it. I used to watch my mother suck the marrow out of chicken bones when I was young. I tried it a couple of times. I remember her chasing around a couple of geese that I thought were pets. I remember her chopping their heads off with a cleaver, Wally. Feathers floating in the air and headless bodies flapping on the ground.

People talk too much. They need to just stop for a bit. Most of my days are like one, sticky, continuous conversation ball thrown at my head. Im too tired to dodge em’ and just let em' roll down my face. Nodnodnod yesyesyes. Big Bump. Everybody just calm down, shut up, and leave everybody else alone. Walk around, play with your kids, walk the dogs – but, still … shut up. You’re about as original as ME. Which isn’t much. I’m an ungrateful bastard. I’m the ugliest beautiful person you’ve ever met – I deserve to be hunted down like Frankenstein.

He’ll tell you…

Waking up can be a mistake.






Tuesday, May 11, 2004



My Friend...

Brandon has a new dog about the size of two tarantulas.




Monday, May 10, 2004



Cody?...

Visions of the drunk ass girl at the bar last night, puking tequila in between her fingers still haunts me...




Friday, May 07, 2004



Ask Me A Question...

Besides why I'm so gay.

The reward for your participation will be my next post.

I think It'll be fun.

And gay.

Meaning happy.

Meaning GAY.





Thursday, May 06, 2004



Kevynn Can Mend A Broken Heart When He Gets All The Pieces…

Sometimes…when I approach a person, I don’t know whether to stab them or to hug them. Sometimes, I’ll hug them first and then stab them – but I’d rather stab a person after a good, long hug any day.


"Since light travels faster than sound, is that why some people appear bright until you speak to them?" -Steven Wright





Wednesday, May 05, 2004



Clementine Kruczynski...



Today at work, I asked a table if they wanted fresh ground pepper.

The man said, "Give me three turns."

So I spun myself in a circle three times.

When I was finished, they all just looked at me.

So I left.






Hitler Mouse...

The Walt Disney Company is blocking its Miramax Films division from distributing Michael Moore's documentary "Fahrenheit 911," which criticizes President Bush, according to a statement on Moore's Web site.
The film is highly critical of Bush's handling of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and his actions leading up the attacks.
"I would have hoped by now that I would be able to put my work out to the public without having to experience the profound censorship obstacles I often seem to encounter," Moore wrote in the statement.
Miramax spokesman Matthew Hiltzik did not immediately return calls for comment Wednesday. Disney spokesman John Spelich also did not return calls early Wednesday.

Moore attributes Disney's decision to concerns that the documentary will endanger tax breaks the company receives from Florida and anger Bush's brother, Florida Gov. Jeb Bush.
Disney has a contractual agreement with Miramax principals Bob and Harvey Weinstein allowing it to prevent the company from distributing films under certain circumstances, such as an NC-17 rating, according to The New York Times, which first reported the story.

"Some people may be afraid of this movie because of what it will show," Moore wrote. "But there's nothing they can do about it now because it's done, it's awesome, and if I have anything to say about it, you'll see it this summer — because, after all, it is a free country."

The often confrontational director won an Oscar for his 2002 documentary "Bowling for Columbine," about the Columbine High School shooting and U.S. gun control policy. He's also known for the 1989 film "Roger & Me," which explored the effects of General Motors on his hometown of Flint, Mich. "Fahrenheit 911" will be one of 18 films in competition next week at the Cannes Film Festival, Moore wrote.







She Looks Out The Portal At Solaris.

RHEYA
Is it a planet?

KELVIN
Not exactly. It exists in a
continuum that wasn't proven until
ten years ago, a higher
mathematical dimension superimposed
on top of the Universe. An
infinite number of them, in fact.
It was a violation of all of our
various laws regarding the
Universe, Space, or Space-Time. It
was completely counter-intuitive.
We had to unlearn everything.

RHEYA
Is it intelligent?

KELVIN
Intelligent beyond our
comprehension.

RHEYA
Then it's God, right?

KELVIN
It's something.

RHEYA
You still don't believe in God?

KELVIN
The whole idea of God was dreamed
up by a silly animal with a small
brain called Man. Even the limits
we put on it are human limits. It
can do this, it can do that! It
designs, it creates!

RHEYA
Even a God that wasn't active, that
just created something and stood
back and watched?

KELVIN
You're talking about a man in a
white beard again. You're
ascribing human characteristics to
something that isn't human. Human
beings look for causes and
patterns. How could we know what
Solaris is up to, if anything?

A beat.

RHEYA
But what if Solaris is what there
was before The Big Bang?

KELVIN
As I said, it is beyond our
comprehension.

RHEYA
As I said, then it's God, right?




I was going to write about my trip to Austin– but then erased the beginning of it because I don’t know how I can fit most of the highlights in and because I’m a very lazy guy. I had something funny to say anyway, but now I’ve forgotten it.

I did see the biggest goldfish that I’ve ever seen. AND I also watched a dog hump a keg. I tried to take pictures of a little kid with a mullet, but his mom was watching so I didn’t get any spectacular pics. I drank constantly.

With the mullet kid.




Tuesday, May 04, 2004



So, I Leave For A Week...

And I come back to NO new comments and an Internet virus.

Lick it.




Wednesday, April 28, 2004



Stone Cold...



I leave for Austin tomorrow morning. Maybe I'll write less, maybe I won't. Maybe I don't really care much. It's hotter here in THE OC than in Austin. That's kind of strange. usually it's the other way around for me. Yes, I said THE OC. I'm gonna pull a Paris Hilton and trade in my comfy life. I'm ready to milk some cows. Give me your tired, your weary, your cow manure. I'm tired. I should go to bed. I need to forget to pack things.

This is why I need to get away...

Writing like this...




Tuesday, April 27, 2004



There Must Be An Unwritten Rule...

That the more keys a man has jingling from his belt...

The creepier he is...






Uncle Rhesus Monkey...

I wish that when people talked about Hip Hop - they were actually talking about people that were hip, and hopped around a lot. Maybe, like, cool bunnies. All Little Bunny Foo Foo - but without the violent bopping of the heads.




Saturday, April 24, 2004



Regarding Chewbacca's Inability To Speak Human And His Deep Feelings Toward Han Solo...



He would've said to Princess Leia, " Bitch! The man is mine!"

I think that Chewy would be the ultimate sexual partner because he functions as both a lover AND a blanket.




Friday, April 23, 2004



Not A Cool Title...

If I was an addict trying to score illegal substances at a party,
I'd bring along a K9 drug-sniffing dog.

Genius.







Friday, February 28, 2003...

Bamboo Plants...

My name is Kevynn Malone. I am 5' 11' and a half inches tall. I weigh 138 lbs. My hair is dark brown. I have one brown eye and one light brown eye. My hair is short. I have a scar on my eyebrow from Ian punching me in a drunken fight club night. I have a scar on my nose from throwing it through the glass on a front door. I broke my wrist playing football in fifth grade. I have bad knees. I play Bass guitar. I draw one picture every three months. I write everyday. I am horrible at paying bills. Children like me. I have too many friends. I have too many enemies. All of my friends are talented and insane. I barely drive. I hate freeways. I like to read. None of my family lives in California. I have a girlfriend and two cats. My father used to work for a secret branch of the government. My mother is very short and could drink you under the table. She's a fucking scrapper in a fight. My father is shy. I am not. I sing a lot out loud. I used to skateboard a lot. I like comic books again. I want to be a movie star. I want my screenplays published. I did meet one of the studio heads from MGM yesterday, though. I want to be a Calvin Klein model. I like to buy action figures. Tonight I am going to Jen's house, then I am going to see Tony and Tom play at a bar. Tomorrow I am going to the library. Sunday? I don't know. I am looking forward to Kevynn Malone Day on March 5th. I encourage all to AIM me. We can all hook up that talky-to-talky option on it and drink together. I don't drink anything else but Bud Light. I'm a puss. I don't like to get in trouble anymore. I like to be awake when I drink. I should be getting ready right now, but I'm not. I'm talking to you and singing to Soul To Squeeze by Red hot Chili Peppers.........


I am happy. Mostly. I won't complain. I'm trying. Maybe not hard enough. I need to ignore you more and concentarte on all of the movie and book shit that I attribute 4% of my time to. I taught my girlfriend's niece all about Pez today. I gave her a really cool one today. We ate candy and filled all of mine up. I broke one. But it was a stupid one, so who cares. I need to hook up my photo scanner. I need to get business cards printed. I can dance, but don't. Much. I don't have a Play Station. I have a cool backyard. My neighbors are my friends. I buried my old cat in the backyard. I am friends with an eighty year old man. My youngest friend is four. I am twenty-seven. I believe aliens have visited Earth but don't believe in any of your gods. I don't like to watch wrestling. I like basketball and nothing else. I am unorganized. I think a lot. I wave to planes and helicopters. I don't like to kill ants, but will punch you in the face if you piss me off. I have to remind myself to breathe deep. I am more apt to look up or down than left/right or forward. I don't have a cell phone. I carry around a Moleskin in my back, left pocket. I hate coffee. I smoke. I have Buddy Holly-type glasses, but I need new ones. I paid three hundred glasses for these four years ago. I think I got my moneys worth....My vision isn't horrible. I am nearsighted. I eat a lot of salads. I hate sharks. I like monkeys.


I'll be back soon, nigga...






Thursday, April 22, 2004



ENOUGH. The Sovereign Of Asgard Has Greater Tasks To Attend Than The Subjugation Of One ALREADY Brought So Low. Take Him To The Dungeons, And Let Asgard's NEW Age Begin Forthwith...



Living life through the gray area. I see my reflection on the computer screen. It looks blurry and dark. I'll try to change it, to adjust it and to give the picture more clarity.

I spit hard outside before I came in here, trying to get rid of the excess that was in my system. A Buddhist mantra also came to my lips – but I cut it short. No matter how beautiful it is to cultivate peace and meditation – it still takes action and a little physical force to move things. If I can cut the roots of a heavy tree, because it’s blocking my way - then I’ll try real hard to move the damn thing. Even if it makes me more tired than I am now.

Now I don’t see my reflection. The page that I’m typing on is a blinding white. I’m trying to darken it with my words. To blend it into something...in-between. Grey. Then, after I’m done. When I’m ready, I’m going to turn this damn thing off.

Let it go black...




Monday, April 19, 2004



They Might Be Wil Wheaton…



Went to see They Might Be Giants on Friday. Thanks to Cartoon Pig for the tickets. It was at the House Of Blues in Anaheim. I’ve never been to this one – only the one out in L.A. I like the layout of the L.A. one better, but this one was nice and simple. Cool in my book. Nice and simple always works for me. Concert venues, stores, diffusing bombs…stuff like that.

I met Wil Wheaton at the bar. I noticed the T-Shirt that he bought first, actually. I thought to myself, “smart guy”. None of that waiting in line crud after the show. Then I noticed that he looked like my friend, Brandon, then I noticed that he looked like Wil Wheaton, then I noticed that he was Wil Wheaton. I introduced myself, and then later, introduced him to my girlfriend. He was a very nice guy. Not that ever expected him not to be. We talked for a bit about writing and whatnot. He had just finished his book that day. Good for him. I’ll buy it. I like his writing. I tried not to bend his ear too much, even though I had a million geeky questions about small press publishing, writing habits, influences, comic books, voice agents, role-playing, and Warhammer 40k. The show was about to start, Cartoon Pig was already inside and a $4.50 Bud Light can of beer was calling my name. That might be the first time that I’ve actually met a real, published writer. Ray Bradbury was speaking at the library right down the street from my house years ago, but I couldn’t get tickets. I talk to myself a lot – but I don’t count because I’m a hack and wouldn’t want to ask myself anything anyway because I’m rude, condescending and always have food in my teeth.

On Saturday, I played poker with some friends and ended up splitting the pot. I dug myself out of a hole and ended up with $180. Not too shabby. Maybe I’ll email Mr. Wheaton and invite him for some poker, beers and geek talk if he’s ever in my neck of the woods. I don’t think that we live that far from each other. One famous geek, one not. I’m not the famous one – but I will take his money. Ha.

Sunday, I worked fourteen hours straight.

Today…I wrote this.

The end.






Stop It. C'mon, You Can Do It...

Someone has found Fat Free Milk through Google about a hundred times in the last couple of days by typing in Obsessive Compulsive disorder. Dude. Get help. And give me a dollar. You must. Seriously.




Friday, April 16, 2004



They Might Be Giants...



Tonight.
Drinks.
Geeks.
No fights.
Well, maybe - y' never know.
But how much harm can a geek do with a slide ruler?
Shit.
Maybe a lot.




Wednesday, April 14, 2004



A Testimonial From My Friend Baxter...

"When he has his first book published in a format that requires a barcode on the back jacket, I will undoubtedly add the title to my favorite books list. I would also like to point out that Kevynn is an early example of what happens when our troops go to a foreign country for no reason, get their ass kicked and f*ck the natives. We should be seeing more recent (and hairier) examples in about nine months."






Droopy...

I love flat tires after you get off of work.

I'm SO horny about them.






John Wayne Was A Prick...



Big, tall racist, cowboy ass. All of his movies are outdated and worthless now anyway. Tell us how you really feel, Bub? Props to his son for selling his image out on those old Coors Light commercials too. I used to think that his offspring sucked for doing that - just like Fred Astaire's too - but when you think about it. They were both pricks probably and the kids needed the money to pay for therapy. No. That's not fair. Yes. Yes, it is. I really don't know about Fred, but John Wayne was a crap head. Now, Robert Mitchum...THAT'S a real fucking cowboy.

I have no idea why I started writing about this.

You and me both.

And Spellcheck.




Tuesday, April 13, 2004



No More Reading About Star Wars Stuff For Me...

I mean...even my nerds are growing nerds.

What?

I don't know either.






Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain...



Thank you to The Jesus Bunny for giving me the day off on Sunday. No bartending for me, folks – so that meant serving drinks to myself. Which is cool, but not as financially lucrative. So it goes.

I bought fourteen dollars worth of Halibut that nobody ate. Joe bought enough steak to feed an army – which everybody later ate. Played poker, and then ended up getting drunk with Tony and taking pictures into the wee hours of the night. Gay. Yes. But fun.



I've reached an all time low.
My pic's on the internet.
Might as well log on to a Star Trek message board now...




Monday, April 12, 2004



The Grand Ennui...

kvn: how ya been, punk?
boz: that's not a sweater thats a bondage vest
kvn: ha.
boz: I'm good, I'm always good
kvn: Cool. Im half-crazy. The same.
boz: so tell me about this donnie darko fetish you have, is there a book, cause the movie really sucked
kvn: Half-Viet, half-Irish, half-insane.
kvn: Dude. So original. So much a better piece of writing than half of the shit out there.
kvn: Not the best - but original, at least.
boz: figured there had to be a book, because the movie really didn't answer anything
kvn: You remind me of Frank - the bunny.
boz: I thought I reminded you of the roberta scurvy
kvn: No. No book. recommend a movie to me then, bubba
kvn: nothing funny
boz: have you seen Frida?
kvn: comedies are boring
kvn: BERT?
kvn: no. but i heard it was good.
boz: Frida with salma hayek
boz: yeah, real good, about an artist not reaching her potential, sort of like someone I know
kvn: Generally movies about painters suck, though...Stealing Picasso...Bisquik, Pollack...
boz: this had sex in it
kvn: Dude. They made a movie about somebody that reminded you of yo - I mean...The Hard Artist? wow.
kvn: jk. Hard kicks butt.
kvn: sex is good.
boz: I wasn't thinking about Hard
boz: I was thinking about someone who used to sleep with him
kvn: I'm getting kind of bored with the internet and writing on it - can you tell?
kvn: I know you didnt mean Hard. ha.
boz: funny thing though, the less you write the more comments you get
boz: I know you know I didn't mean Hard, I just wanted another chance to tell people that you used to sleep with him
kvn: Crap. Seriously, nobody comes around as much anymore. I used to get crazy amounts of people - but now it's a slow trickle...
kvn: Don't care too much though.
boz: ebb and flow, you have to go with the ebb and flow
kvn: Fuck. I just wrote something and it didnt go.
boz: on the zonk?
kvn: I know. I love it more than hate it. I just want to leave the internet as NOT my only sorce of writing. I want to get back to my old school productive ways again. Y' know. Pen. Paper. No distractions other than the ones with lungs andd telephones.
kvn: my fault. not the zonks. spelling? my fault. not god's.
kvn: sorce?
boz: can't you write on the computer, that's the way stephen king does it
kvn: Shit. He's a madman. And a REAL writer, not a hack like me. And even though he's brilliant - he's got buck teeth and an ugly wife...so that must make it easier to write. No distractions. Socially or romantically.
kvn: That was harsh, Stephen - my gog. Writing muse. I apologize.
boz: gog?
kvn: god, i meant. I feel bad.
kvn: That was horrible of me to say.
boz: it was, and his wife reads my blog
kvn: Even though Bukowski was ugly, Hemingway was fat, and Kerouac ended up marrying his fat, ol' mom.
kvn: Damn. There I go again.
kvn: I'm sorry.
kvn: And they were all alcoholics too.
boz: you think mariel hemingway is fat?
kvn: Damn. Again.
kvn: MAriel Hemingway has King's teeth.




Sunday, April 11, 2004



Cartoon Pig Radio Mention...



Props to the man for my radio show mention.
Much love to the cow that died to feed my belly.
Thanks to Jesus for doing...whatever he did.

I enjoy not working on Sunday, bloody guy.






Gundark...

Gonna pull your ears off...

Soon...




Friday, April 09, 2004



Uneven Bedford Blazer...

ÈÒäیÏ åãÏی?Ñ ÑÇ¡ Çی ÌãÇÚÊ ÓÇÏå Ïá
ÊáæیÒیæä ÑÇ ÑæÔä ãی ˜äی ãی Òäی ÔȘå Óå¡ äæÏ ÏÇÑÏ æ ããÏ ãÇیáی äÔÓÊå æ ÏæÈÇÑå ÏÇÑå ÕÛÑی æ ˜ÈÑی ãی ?یäå ! ÌÇáÈ Çیä˜å Çیä ÏÝÚå äå Êæ ?æÔ ÎÈÑä?ÇÑ ÒÏå¡ äå ÏæÑÈیä ÔãÓ æ Êæ ÕæÑÊÔ ÎÇá˜æÈی ˜ÑÏå æ äå ÎæÇÓÊå ÍÇá ÑÖÇ ãÇáÏیäی Ñæ È?یÑå !
Èá˜å Çیä ÈÇÑ ÏÇÑå ÇÒ ÊÔÎیÕ ÕÏÇی ÊÇÓ ÏÑ Íیä ÇÏÇی ÝÑیÖå äãÇÒ ÈÇÈ ÓÎä ãی ÑÇäÏ.
Ìá ÇáÎÇáÞ Çیä ããÏی ÚÌÈ ÇÓÊÚÏÇÏ äåÝÊå Çی ÏÑ ãÇÓãÇáی ÏÇÑÏ åÇ !! ÝÑÏæÓی ?æÑ ãیÇÏ ÍÑÝ ÈÒäå åã?äیä ãی Òäå Êæ ÐæÞÔ ˜å Ïی?Ñ ÌÑÇÊ ÍÑÝ ÒÏä äãی ˜äå ! ÈÚÏ ãی Òäå ?Çی ?Ôã ÑæÒäÇãå ä?ÇÑÇ æ ÈÚÏåã ?äÇä ÍÇáی ÇÒ ããÏ ÏÇϘÇä ãی ?یÑå ˜å ä?æ ! ÏÑæÏ ÈÑ ÔÑÝ ãÕØÝæی !! Çیä æÇÖÍ ÊÑیä ?Ç?å ÎæÇÑی ÏÑ ãیÇä Çåá æÑÒÔ äÓÈÊ Èå ی˜ äÝÑ ÈæÏå æ ÔÇیÏ ÊÇ åÒÇÑÇä ÓÇá Çیä Ìãáå ÞÕÇÑ ããÏی ÒäÏå ÈãÇäÏ æ ÎÏÇ ä˜äÏ ˜å ããÏ ãÇیáی ãی ÎæÇÓÊå È?æیÏ ÏÇϘÇä ÔÑÝ äÏÇÑÏ ¿!
ÇÚÕÇÈ ÂÏã ÎæÑÏ ãی Ôå ÇÒ Çیä ØáȘÇÑی æ ?Ñ Ñæیی ! ãی Òäã ÔȘå ÎÈÑ ÏÇÑå ÏæÑÈیä ÎÈÑÓÇÒ äÔæä ãیÏå ! Çی ÈÇÈÇ ÈÇÒã ÇیäÇ ÏÇÑä ÏÚæÇ ãÑÇÝå äÔæä ãی Ïä !
ÈÇÈÇ Ìæä Çä?ÇÑ Çیä ÊáæیÒیæä ÔÏå áæäå ÒäÈæÑ åÇ åÑ ÌÇ ãی Òäی یÇ ÏÇÑä ÍÇá ãی ?یÑä æ یÇ ÏÇÑä ãی Òää æ یÇ ÏÇÑä ÝÍÔ ãی Ïä ! Çå
ÕÈÍ ÑæÒäÇãå åÇ Ñæ ÈÇÒ ãی ˜äی ! ÝáÇä ÝáÇä ÔÏå ÇÒÊ Ô˜ÇیÊ ãی ˜äیã. ãی ˜ÔیãÔ ÏÇÏ?Çå ! Êیã Çáã?ی˜ Èå Îјی ÊÑیä ãåÑå Ó?ÑÏå ÔÏ ! ÈÇÈÇ Çیä ?å ÇäÊÎÇÈیå ¿!
ãÛÒ ˜å åی?¡ ?Ïä åã Êæ Çیä ÇæÖÇÚ ãی Êјå !
ÝÏÇÑÓیæä æÒäå ÈÑÏÇÑی ÝáÇä ãÔ˜á ÑÇ ÏÇÑÏ¡ ˜ÔÊی ÈåãÇä ãÔ˜á ÑÇ¡ æÇáیÈÇá ÈÏÊÑ ÇÒ åãå¡ ÝæÊÈÇá ˜å ä?æ¡ ÌÇäÈÇÒÇä ÏäÈÇá ãæÞÚیÊ ÇÓÊ¡ ÈÇäæÇä åã ÏÑ?یÑ ÎØ æ ÎØæØ ÌÏیÏ. ãی ãÇäÏ ˜å Çیä æÓØ ÈÏãیäÊæäی åÇی ˜å ÈیÇäÏ æ ÇÚÊÕÇÈ ˜ääÏ. ÈÚÏ ÇÒ Èæ˜Ó ?Ôã æÑÒÔ Èå ÊÍÕä ÏÑ ÈÏãیäÊæä ÑæÔä ! ÍÇáÇ ãÇäÏå ãäÊÎÈ Êیã åÇی ˜ÇÑ?Ñی åã ÏÑ æÑÒÔ?Çå åÇ Èå ÌÇä åã ÈیÇÝÊäÏ¡ ÂÎå Çیä ÇæÖÇÚ æÑÒÔ ÏÑ ÔåÑÓÊÇä åÇÓÊ. ÏÑ ?äÈÏ ÈÇ äÆæ?Çä åã?یä ãی Òää Êæ ãáÇÌÊ ˜å یÇÏ ÇÈæی ÌÏÊ ÈیÝÊی ! ÍÇáÇ ãی ÎæÇی ãÑÈی Êیã ãáی ÈÇÔی ãی ÎæÇی åÑ ˜ÇÑå Ïی?Ñ !! Êæ ÇÕÝåÇä ˜å ÇÕáÇ ÑÓã ÏیÑیäå ÇÓÊ ÞÈá ÇÒ åÑ ÈÇÒی ãیÇä äیãå ÂÌÑ ÈÇ ˜Çãیæä ãیÑیÒä ÈیÑæä æÑÒÔ?Çå ÈÚÏã ãی?ä Èå ÝÑãæÏå ! ÒÏä È?å åÇی ÊåÑæä ÇÚã ÇÒ æÑÒÔ˜ÇÑ æ ÛیÑå ÖÑæÑی ÇÓÊ. ãیÑی ãÔåÏ ?äÇä ÊáÇÔی ãی ˜ääÏ ˜å ˜Ê˜ ÈÒääÏ ˜å ä?æ¡ ÏÓÊ ÂÎÑ ÈÇ ÍãÇیÊ åãå ÇåÇáی ãÍÊÑã ÎÑÇÓÇä æ ÇáÈÊå ÈÚÏ ÇÒ ÚÐÑÎæÇåی ÇÒ ÇãÇã ÑÖÇ åÑ ?ی ÇÒ ÏåäÔæä ÏÑãیÇÏ äËÇÑÊ ãی ˜ää ! ÍÇáÇ ãیÎæÇی ÎÏÇÏÇÏ ÚÒیÒی ÈÇ äãÑå ãÔåÏ 11 ÈÇÔی¡ ãیÎæÇی Úáی ÏÇیی ÈÇ äãÑå ÇÑÏÈیá 99 åÑ ˜ی ãیÎæÇی ÈÇÔی ÈÇÔ.
ãیÑی ÔیÑÇÒ ÈÏÊÑ ÇÒ åãå¡ ÈÇ äÇÑäÌ äÑÓیÏå æ ãیæå ˜ÇÌ ÍÇáی ÇÒÊ ãی ?یÑä ˜å یÇÏÊ ÈÑå ÈÇÈÇ ÊÎÊ ÌãÔیÏ Êæ Çیä ÎØå ÇÓÊ æ ÇÕáÇ Ïی?Ñ ÍÇá äÏÇÔÊå ÈÇÔی È?ی ÎæÔÇ ÔیÑÇÒ æ æÕÝ Èی ãËÇáÔ æ ÇÒ Çیä Èå ÈÚÏ ãی?ی ÇãÇä ÇÒ ÔیÑÇÒ æ ÈÚÏ Èی ãËÇáÔ !!
ãیÑی ÇåæÇÒ ˜å ä?æ. ÝæÔ ãی Ïی ¿ Êیã ãæ Ñæ ãی ÎæÇی ÈÒäی ¿! Çیä یÚäی ?ÇیÇä ÒäÏ?ی ÏÑ ÚÔیÑå æ یÚäی Çیä˜å ÍÊی Ç?Ñ äÇÕÑ ÍÌÇÒی åã ÈÇÔی ÈÚÏ ی˜ ÝÕá ÏÑ ãیÑی ! ãیÇی ÂÈÇÏÇä ÈÏÊÑ ãی Ôå ˜å ÈåÊÑ äãی Ôå. ÈÇÈÇ یÇÑæ ÇæãÏå ãÓÇÈÞå ÈÏå ÈÇ ÂÌÑ ãی Òää Êæ ãÎÔ ÈÚÏã ãی ÎäÏäÏ ÈåÔ ãی ?ä : ÊåÑæä åãیäÌæÑی ˜ÑÏیä¡ ãÇ ÏÇÑیã ãی ˜äیã !
ی˜ی äیÓÊ È?å ÈäÏå ÎÏÇ ÊåÑæä ÊãÇÔÇ?ÑÇÔ ÌÑÇÊ äÏÇÑä ÇÒ ÊÝÍÕ ÇÓÝá ÇáÓÇÝáیä ÊÑیä äÞÇØ ÈÏäÔæä ÇÓÊÇÏیæã ÈیÇä !! ÈÚÏ Êæ ãی?ی Êæ ÊåÑæä ?äیä æ ?äÇä ˜ÑÏäÏ.
ÎáÇÕå ãیÇی ÇÒ ÏÑ ÇÑæãیå ÈÑی Êæ ی˜ ÏÝÚå ی˜ی ãی ?ÑÓå : äÌæÑ Óä ¿! ãی ãæäی ?ی È?ی ¿ È?ã ÎæÈã ˜å ÈáÇیی Èå ÓÑã ãیÇÑä ˜å ÈÑã Ïی?å ÈÑ ä?ÑÏã ! È?ã ÈÏã ãی?ä Çیäã ÇÒ ÝÇãیáÇی . . . . !! ?Ó ÈåÊÑå È?ã ÇÒ ÝÏÇÑÓیæä äÇÔäæÇیÇä ÂãÏã æ äãی Ôäæã.
ÇÒ ?یáÇä æ ãÇÒäÏÑÇä ˜å åã ÈåÊÑå ÏÑ ÍæÒå ÈÇÊáÇÞ ÍÑÝ ÈÒäیã. Êیæ? æ ØäÇÝ æ ãیá ?Ñ?ã ÇÓÊÇÏیæã åã ?Çåی ˜ÝÇÝ ÛÑÞ ÔÏä Ñæ äãی Ïå ! ÍÇáÇ ÈÈیäیÏ ?å ÈÓÇØیå !
ÎæÈ ! æÞÊی Èå ÓÑ ÊÇ ?Çی Çیä æÑÒÔ ?äÏ ãیáیÇÑÏی ˜å ÇäÏÇÒå ?یÓÊ ÌåÇäی ÝÑãæá ی˜ ÈÍÑیä ÇÑÒÔ äÏÇÑÏ¡ æáی ÇäÏÇÒå Ïå ÊÇ ˜ÔæÑ ÂÓیÇیی ( ãÚáæã äیÓÊ ?å ÌæÑی ) ãÏÇá ãی ÂæÑÏ æ åãیÔå åã ÈÇ ÔÇÎ æ Ôæäå ÎæÏãæä æ Êæ åãå ?یÒ ÞåÑãÇä ãی Ïæäیã¡ ?å ãی ÔæÏ ?ÝÊ ¿ ãی ÊæÇä ÔÑÇیØ ãÓÇÚÏ ?یÏÇ ˜ÑÏ !
یÇÏã äãی Ñå æÞÊی ÂÑی åÇä ÈÑÇی ÊÕÏی ?ÓÊ ÓÑãÑÈی?Ñی Êیã ãáی Èå ÇیÑÇä ÂãÏ ÈÇ æÇäÊ ?ی˜Çä ãÏá 49 ˜å ÏÑåÇیÔ ÎÑÇÈ ÈæÏ ÏÑ ÒãÓÊÇä ÈÎÇÑی äÏÇÔÊ æ ی˜ ?ی˜ äی˜ی ÈÑÇی ?Ñã ˜ÑÏäÔ ÏÑ ÒیÑ ?Çی ÑÇääÏå ÊÚÈیå ÔÏå ÈæÏ. ÈÑÏäÔ ÓÑ ÊãÑیä¡ äÔæäÏäÔ ?ÔÊ ãیÒ ÍáÈی ÏÑæیÔ !! ÈÚÏã Ìáæی ?ÔãÔ ?Çی ǘÈÑ یæÓÝی ˜å Èå یæÓÝی ÊÑǘÊæÑ ãÚÑæÝ ÈæÏ¡ ÏÑ ی˜ی ÇÒ ÕÏ ?Çáå Òãیä ÔãÇÑå 2 ˜å ?Çی ÈÒ ÊæÔ ?ی? ãی ÎæÑå¡ ÎæÑÏ æ Îǘ ÔیÑ ÔÏ. ÈÚÏã ÈÑÇی ?ÐیÑÇیی ی˜ ÔیÔå äæÔÇÈå Óå ÈÇÑ Ïåäی ÔÏå Ñæ ?ÐÇÔÊä ÌáæÔ! ÇÒ ÒæÑ ÝÔÇÑ ÔÈ åãæä ÑæÒ ÇÓåÇá ?ÑÝÊ æ ÈåÇäå ˜ÑÏ ÏÓÊ ?ÓÑã Ô˜ÓÊå æ ÏãÔ ?ÐÇÔÊ Ñæی ˜æáÔ æ ÝÑÇÑ ˜ÑÏ. ÍÇáÇ ÊæÞÚ ?ی ÏÇÑیã ¿! ÏæÈÇÑå åãæä ÈÓÇØ ÏÑ Çیä Ïæ ÓÇáå ÑÇå ÇÝÊÇÏå ÇÓÊ æ ˜ÇÑی ÇÒ ˜Óی ÈÑäãی ÂیÏ ÈÏÊÑ Çیä ˜å ÈÇÒåã ÓÇá ÞÈá Çáã?ی˜ !
Çی ÈÑ Çیä ÔÇäÓ áÚäÊ ! ÈÇÒã ÓÇá ÞÈá ÇÒ Çáã?ی˜.
ÇÕáÇ ?æیی ˜Óی ˜ÇÑی Èå ÌÇÈÑ ÓÇáã æ æÖÚیÊ ãÈåã æی ÏÑ Çáã?ی˜ ÈÑÇی ÑÞÇÈÊ ÈÇ ÑÖÇÒÇÏå äÏÇÑÏ¡ ?æیی ʘæÇäÏæ æ ˜ÇÑÇÊå æ ˜ÔÊی äÈÇیÏ ãÏÇá È?یÑäÏ æ ÇáÈÊå ˜å ÍÐÝ ÔÏä ÇÒ ÏÇیÑå ÍÖæÑ ÏÑ ÝæÊÈÇá Çáã?ی˜ ÝÇÌÚå äیÓÊ. ?æä æÞÊی ãی ÊæÇäیã ÏÑ Òãیä Îǘی åÇی ?æÏ ÔåÑÒÇÏ ÊیÛی ÈÇ È?å åÇی ˜یÇä ÔåÑ ÝæÊÈÇá ÒÏ¡ Èی˜ÇÑیã ÈÑیã Çáã?ی˜ !
ÂäæÞÊ È?å åÇی Êیã ãáی ÑÇ Èå åÒÇÑ ?äÇå ãی äÏÇÒیã ! ÂÎå ãی ?ä یæäÇä ÇÒ ÞÇäæä ÍÏÇÞá áÈÇÓ ( ÔãÇ ÈÎæÇäیÏ Bikini) ÊÇÈÚیÊ äãی ˜äÏ æ ÎáÇیÞ ãی ÊæÇääÏ ãËá ÂÛÇÒ ÚÕÑ ÒäÏ?ی ÈÔÑ Ñæی Òãیä Îǘی ÇÓÊÑی?¡ ÇÓÊÑی? ÏÑ Òãیä æ åæÇ ÑÇå ÈÑæäÏ.
ÍÇáÇ ÔãÇ ÈÇÔی یå ãÔÈ ÈÇÒی˜ä ÚÐÈ æ ãی ÈÑی Çáã?ی˜ ˜å Ïæ Êی˜å æ ی˜ Êی˜å æ ÇÕáÇ Èی Êی˜å ÈÈیääÏ ! äå ÏÇÔã ÇیäÌæÑی äãی Ôå¡ ÍÐÝ ÔÏیã ÚیÈی äÏÇÑå ÝÇÌÚå äیÓÊ. åÑ ˜ی ÇÒ ÎæäÔ ãی Ôیäå ÝæÊÈÇá ãی Èیäå. åÑ ˜ی åã ÍÑÝ ÏÇÑå ÂÏÑÓ ããÏی ãæÌæÏ ÇÓÊ ÈÑå ˜Ê˜Ô æ ÈÎæÑå äæäÔ ÈÏå ÏÓÊÔ ÈیÇÏ ÓÑ ÒäÏ?یÔ ! Óی ?ی ÇÕáÇ Çیä ãÑÏãæ ÍÑÝ ãی Òää ! ÝæÊÈÇáæ یÚäی ?ی ¿!
ÇãÇ ÚیÈ äÏÇÑå Çی ÌãÇÚÊ ÓÇÏå ÈÒäیÏ Êæ ÓÑ åã ÂÌÑ ÎæÑÏ ˜äیÏ Êæ ãáÇÌ æ åã ÊæÕیå È?یÑیÏ ÈÑÇی åÑ ˜ÇÑی æ åÑ ÈÇÑی !
æáی åی? ˜ÇÑی äÏÇÔÊå ÈÇÔیÏ ˜å ãÊæáی Çیä åã ÈÏÈÎÊی æ ÈÒä ÈÒä ˜یå æ ?ÑÇ ÊÇ Ïæ ÓÇá ÞÈá Çیä ÞÏÑ æÑÒÔ ãÇ ÎÑ Êæ ÎÑ äÈæÏ ! ÇáÈÊå ÈáÇ äÓÈÊ ÂÏã åÇ. æáی ÈÇæÑ ˜äیÏ Çیä æÑÒÔ ÇÒ ÏæÑ Ïá ãی ÈÑå ÇÒ äÒÏی˜ Òåáå ! ÂÎå ã?å ãی Ôå Êæ Ïæ ÓÇá ÈáÇیی Èå ÓÑ Çیä æÑÒÔ ÈیÇÏ ˜å åãå Èå Ìæä åã ÈیÇÝÊäÏ. åãå ?یÒ Ñæ ÈÝÑæÔäÏ æ ی˜ ÏÓÊå ÂÏã Èی ÎÇÕیÊ ÈÇ ÈåÇäå ÓÑãÇیå ?ÐÇÑی ÔÎÕی æÇã åÇی ˜áÇä Èå ÌیÈ ÈÒääÏ æ ÈÑæäÏ ÏäÈÇá ÚÔÞ æ ÍÇáÔÇä! ÈÇÈÇ ÌÇä ÂÎÑ ÚÇÞÈÊ Çیä ˜ÇÑåÇ äÇÈæÏی æÑÒÔ ÊäåÇ ÓÑ?Ñãی ÓÇÏå Çیä åãå ÌæÇä æ äæÌæÇä ÇÓÊ¡ Êæ Ñæ ÎÏÇ ÍæÇÓÊæä æ ÌãÚ ˜äیÏ !
?æá Çیä ÈÇÒی åÇ Ñæ äÎæÑیÏ. ?ÑÇ ÇÞæÇã ãÎÊáÝ Èå Ìæä åã ÇÝÊÇÏä ¿ ãÇ åãå ÇیÑÇäی åÓÊیã æ ÞáÈãæä ÈÑÇی æØäãæä ãی Ø?Ï ! ?Ó ÈÇÒی?å ˜ÓÇäی ÑÇ äÎæÑیã ˜å ͘ã ÌÇäی ÏÇáÑ ÈÑÇی æÑÒÔ ÇیÑÇä ÏÇÑäÏ !! ÈåæÔ ÈÇÔیã !




Thursday, April 08, 2004



There Are A Million Things...

That I can say about this right now.
But no man, no matter how verbose -
Can properly explain it.

Enjoy?




Wednesday, April 07, 2004



Dear, Mr. Daylight Savings...

I take back all of the bad things that I said about you. I'm sorry. I DO appreciate it still being light outside after taking a post work nap. So...I hope all is well with you, and I just wanted to let you know that I apologize, okay?

And I'm sorry for calling your mother a whore.

Goodbye.




Tuesday, April 06, 2004



Kashyyyk...



I walked past the comic book store after work today and saw a poster for a comic called Teen Titans Go! It's kind of like a superhero team for the Power Puff Girls age bracket. Anyway, the slogan of the cartoony version of The Teen Titans is Truth. Justice...Pizza. That got me to thinking about The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and how they were really into pizza. Then that got me thinking about how kids go apeshit over pizza. That got me thinking about that baseball game when I was young, and how my father told me that if I caught a flyball - then he'd take us all out for pizza. I fucked up two very important ones, one sailed over my head, and I dropped the next. Then my older brother punched me in the arm and called me an asshole. That got me to thinking how I build up how I want pizza in my head for weeks, order one, and then only eat two pieces. Only the Italians have a right to go apeshit over pizza. They created it. But they're also responsible for Tony Danza too, so fuck em'. I hate advertising that feeds the fuel of American fatties. I hope they put a bomb in your pizza next time. All this because of pizza. I hate you, pizza. Piss off.






This Is All For Now...

I'm Rick James, Bitch!

Thank You.




Monday, April 05, 2004



The Kids Of Widney High...



Life Without the Cow

Life without the cow, no more milk and cheese
No more New York steak, no more fertilizer

No more BBQ, no more leather shoes
No more butter on biscuits, no more Ben and Jerry's

But there is a cow, I see 'em every day
I seem 'em from the freeway in California
I can't stand my life without the cow

Life without the cow, nor more cottage cheese
No more hamburgesas, cowgirls or cowboys

No more saying "Mooo", no more "Cow and Chicken"
No more frozen yogurt, no more big brown eyes
(Chorus)

Brahman Bull, Caucasian, Guernsey, Black Angus, Beefalo, Belted Galloway, Brown Swiss, Jersey, Corinthian Blonde, Texas Longhorn, Jamaica Red, Florida Cracker
(Chorus)
(Solo over verse)
(Chorus)2x




Friday, April 02, 2004



Mortimer Mouse...

Early in the morning, while working on The Great American Novel, I went outside to smoke a cigarette, and found a dead rat that the outside cat left for me on the doormat. I rolled it up in the mat and then tried to fling it into the bushes, but it sailed over them and landed on the neighbor's driveway with a splat. Then I went back inside and ate Mexican food.

rat
that
cat
doormat
splat




Thursday, April 01, 2004



Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow?...



Today for April Fools Day - I fooled myself.
Yeah, It was awesome.
I pretended that I was happy and liked my job.
I put a big smile on my face and pretended to be interested in conversations.
Everything was nice and shiny.
Perfect, new, and polished.
The air smelled of baby heads (still attached) and crisp linens.
I loved it.
I told myself that getting up in the morning was the best thing that I could've done today.
I told myself that I was proud of myself, that I've accomplished much, and that it doesn't get any better than this.
Everything was great until I crept up behind myself and yelled,

APRIL FOOLS! YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!
in my ear and punched myself in the face. My mouth was a bloody O with shattered teeth decorating the edges. I kicked myself in the crotch hard, and that's when I fell. I grabbed a fistfull of my own hair and slammed my head down hard into the pavement. The dull thud reverberated through my arm.

I kept on yelling APRIL FOOLS! as I repeatedly slammed my head into the ground.

It was hilarious. I totally made me believe it. I'm Such a Jokester. How did I come up with those things? Dude, wasn't that funny? Did you see the look on my face when I was punching me? I hope I'm not mad at myself.

HaHaHaHaHa....

I fooled me good.




Wednesday, March 31, 2004



What I Learned From Today's Two Year Old...

We have the same sense of humor.

We don't have the same amount of energy.

We both like to poop.






NERD...

Shipping This Week: March 31, 2004

The following products are expected to ship to comic book
specialty stores this week. Note that this list is tentative
and subject to change. Please check with your retailer for
availability.


DEC030024 STAR WARS INFINITIES RETURN OF THE JEDI #4 (Of 4) $2.99
JAN040204 BATMAN #625 $2.25
JAN040290 HELLBLAZER #194 (MR) $2.75
JAN040298 MIDNIGHT MASS HERE THERE BE MONSTERS #3 (Of 6) (MR) $2.95
JAN040281 PLANETARY #19 $2.95
JAN040224 SUPERMAN #203 $2.25
JAN041528 PULSE #2 $2.99
JAN041532 SPECTACULAR SPIDER-MAN #12 $2.25
JAN041586 THE PUNISHER #4 (MR) $2.99
FEB042003 WIZARD COMICS MAGAZINE DAREDEVIL CVR #151 $4.99
JAN042287 SOJOURN #33 $2.95
NOV032277 TRANSFORMERS GI JOE #6 (Of 6) $2.95





Monday, March 29, 2004



The Great Brain And His Fascination With Water Closets...



I think that if you don't like books - you're retarded. Doi, you retard. I use this term loosely and in the nicest sense - and who is actually retarded? Somebody retarded or me who had to rewrite retarded twice already?

Seriously, I worry about people who don't have books in their house. It's kind of like the people who I know, when you ask them for a pen or a piece of paper - don't have one. How the hell can you not have a piece of paper to write on in your house? I don't really expect you to be like me and need the shit around - but...c'mon, man! What the hell? At least tell me that you keep some around just in case you run out of toilet paper. Tell me that the only reason that a pen's around is to scratch yourself where your bathing suit covers.

I've noticed that the first thing that I do when I'm in a house that I haven't been in before is to go and check out their books. Everybody else talks and jabbers in the background while I sit there, usually with my hands clasped behind my back and my neck tilted to the side like the famous RCA dog. Thoughts flit through my head like miniature judgment butterflies. It's so interesting, but becomes like a check list to me. Crap, crap, crap, oh-shit-really-bad-ass, my-god-horrible, never-read-that, meant-to, who-the-hell-is-that type of list.

I like to borrow too, but hate when others borrow from me. I used to lend out everything that I had because I was excited to share things that I'd read with others. That's dead and gone now folks, because I realized that people lag on giving the crap back. I end up not being able to find it later. Bastards. So, no more library. No more Clifford The Big Red Dog for you.

First time that I met my friend, Baxter, and after he told me how that I didn't look like a gook and that he expected me to look like Charlie Chan after hearing so much about me - we both ended back at his place after the bars, and were waiting for all the rest of our freaky friends to show up. While he was getting me a beer and doing some things, I checked out his book selection. I remember liking the Hunter S. Thompson, early Kerouac, and Bukowski stuff - but hated his Tom Robbins and politics books. He came out of his kitchen and found me stomping up and down on a pile of the books of his that I didn't like and had thrown to the floor. This is how bold I am. This is how stupid I am. This is how drunk I get. This is how lucky I am that Baxter is a Scottish pacifist lush. My life is full of Great Escapes. Steve McQueen would be jealous.

I feel that everybody should have books. We all need shelves full of crap that interests us. It's cool and exciting to look through somebody else's stuff and to get a feel for them, to see what they like, to see what they hate, and what they're into. You can learn a lot from a person from their books. If you don't have any, then I end up having to talk to you more before we can get into something that piques my curiosity. We don't want me bored because the idle Kevynn is The Devil's plaything. I'm like Satan's dildo when I'm bored, and with batteries of plutonium. That's bad. Not good.

So. I encourage everyone to buy books. Or if you have a ton - to buy more, cuz it cuts the tension like thin paper does the tip of a finger, it encourages conversation better than Coke. It makes me happy. It makes writers happy. Babies smile when books are read. Babies poo when they aren't.

If you were really nice, you'd tell me ten books that you think kick ass.

And if I were...I wouldn't have written this post for you to read.




Thursday, March 25, 2004



Santa Clara Vampires...



My girlfriend rented Mona Lisa Smile last night.
I fell asleep and had nightmares about Julia Roberts being a vampire...
I mean, maybe that isn't so bad to some - she is kind of sexy...
In a Fun House mirror kind of way.




Wednesday, March 24, 2004

Tuesday, March 23, 2004



Et Tu, Brutus...

Dear old man on the street today,

If I looked like Popeye - I would not be smoking a small pipe.

Just my opinion.




Monday, March 22, 2004



The Dark Crystal...



Rock star friend called me from the SXSW festival in Austin last night. Said that he met the owner of a magazine that I used to write for back when I was young(er) and stupid(er). I cringed when RS friend said this - surprisingly the owner-doody had nothing but good things to say about me. That's nice. I thought that he would've had voodoo dolls set up. I guess that's cool. I remember back in the da(ze)ys of magazine writing and music interviews. Ugh. I was also psychotic, half-naked, starved, and insane and didn't know any better. Props to any sick soul who can actually make a living and a fine nest in the cold head of writing deadlines. Much respect to those that actually enjoy going to big city shows to interview bands. I didn't care much then, and care even less now. Boogers to all of that shite.

I interviewed Bad Religion, The Vandals, Reel Big Fish, Cake, Blink 182. I think that was it. There may have been a small handful of other bands - but I've forgotten. There were some that fell through, but maybe that was a good thing. If I had the choice of interviewing anybody - it'd be writers. But then, props to those who would actually want to track down reclusive, agoraphobic, obsessive-compulsive, molested, nerds? Not I.

I would like to hang out with Stephen King, though. And J.D. Salinger and Harper Lee if he's still alive. Orson Scott Card and Irvine Welsh. Chuck Palahniuk. Nick Hornsby. Koushun Takami. Paul Theroux. I'd punch Stan Lee in the nuts. I want to grind Kerouac's bones into the ground and ask the dust, "why?" Sounds like John Fante. I'll tell you a secret...I never finished that book. George Lucas doesn't count as an author unless you count his Willow books - but I have a crapload of "y's" for him too. Bukowski should rest in peace.

God(s), what's wrong with me?
What am I doing here?
Won't you fucking go to sleep? My self asks myself.
Yes, indeedy - what the hell is going on?
Don't you think by now, I would've either turned run-of-the-mill rambling into a rumble?
Or at least learned a trade or something?
The justification of my existence is not that cat running around right now.
It's not words on paper.
It's not the clickity-clack of Alicia, Florida, Car, or computer keys...
No. The justification of my existence is...
Don't know yet.
And that's frustrating...
Not that I expect answers.
Those that expect answers just end up with more questions - and I've got enough of those.
I'm half-mad and half-cocked.
Fire me.
Light me.
Blow me up.
I want to be that sulfuric stench wafting up your nostrils.
Burn me up and smoke my ashes.
I want you to suck the marrow out of my bones.
I want to rip your fucking heads off.
Obey me or break me.
Because I'm sick of the in-betweens.
I want to be a Dung Beetle and roll my shit home.
French kiss me.
Beat me.
Forget me.
I could do better - If I'd let me...




Sunday, March 21, 2004



Hey.

I'm not working tonight.

What did I do instead?

Nothing.

How do I feel about it?

Great.




Friday, March 19, 2004



This Weekend...



Knowing Kung Fu would come in handy.

I can just feel it...




Thursday, March 18, 2004



My Internal Combustion Engine Is Technologically Obsolete By At Least Fifty Years...

I hear we are going to hit close to $3.00 a gallon by the summer. Want gasoline prices to come down? We need to take some intelligent, united action. Phillip Hollsworth, offered this good idea: This makes MUCH MORE SENSE than the "don't buy gas on a certain day" campaign that was going around last April or May! The oil companies just laughed at that because they knew we wouldn't continue to "hurt" ourselves by refusing to buy gas. It was more of an inconvenience to us than it was a problem for them. BUT, whoever thought of this idea, has come up with a plan that can really work.

Please read it and join with us!

By now you're probably thinking gasoline priced at about $1.50 is super cheap. Me too! Now that the oil companies and the OPEC nations have conditioned us to think that the cost of a gallon of gas is CHEAP at $1.50- $1.75, we need to take aggressive action to teach them that BUYERS control the marketplace....not sellers. With the price of gasoline going up more each day, we consumers need to take action. The only way we are going to see the price of gas come down is if we hit someone in the pocketbook by not purchasing their gas!
And we can do that WITHOUT hurting ourselves. How? Since we all rely on our cars, we can't just stop buying gas. But we CAN have an impact on gas prices if we all act together to force a price war.

Here's the idea: For the rest of this year, DON'T purchase ANY gasoline from the two biggest companies (which now are one), EXXON and MOBIL. If they are not selling any gas, they will be inclined to reduce their prices. If they reduce their prices, the other companies will have to follow suit. But to have an impact, we need to reach literally millions of Exxon and Mobil gas buyers. It's really simple to do!! Now, don't wimp out on me at this point...keep reading and I'll explain how simple it is to reach millions of people!!

I am sending this note to about thirty people. If each of you send it to at least ten more (30 x 10 = 300) ... and those 300 send it to at least ten more (300 x 10 = 3,000)...and so on, by the time the message reaches the sixth generation of people, we will have reached over THREE MILLION consumers! If those three million get excited and pass this on to ten friends each, then 30 million people will have been contacted! If it goes one level further, you guessed it..... THREE HUNDRED MILLION PEOPLE!!!
Again, all You have to do is send this to 10 people. That's all. (If you don't understand how we can reach 300 million and all you have to do is send this to 10 people... Well, let's face it, you just aren't a mathematician. But I am ... so trust me on this one.)
How long would all that take? If each of us sends this e-mail out to ten more people within one day of receipt, all 300 MILLION people could conceivably be contacted within the next 8 days!!! I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did you! Acting together we can make a difference.
If this makes sense to you, please pass this message on.

Sent via Mel...thanks.






Everything And Nothing...

It's very cute how I gave her the American Splendor comic book that I got from the library and told her to read it. Now that our bellies were full and now that we'd had a good night chock full of the unremberances of the day. Cool, that I thought that she was reading it whilst I went about my winding down motions. After all of it was done - and the filthy cigarette was out, the face was washed and the rotting teeth were brushed - I walked back into the room...and found her asleep. Was it a blessing in disguise? Or did the Roofies work? I'm so out of touch with youth drug culture - I'm unsure how to spell modern day drugs. Not that I was ever really in touch - but maybe this is a good thing. Christ, I don't even know how to properly spell anyway, so what's the difference, verdad? Drugs suck. Who needs drugs when life is just as wishy - washy as anything that you could put into your system?

So, the movie's on pause - and will remain so - probably until I crawl back into bed a couple hours from now. The bomb turned out to be a dud, the lion sleeps tonight, there's no joy in Mudville - so, The Mighty Kevynn might as well swing away into the night. Nothing like a little batting practice to make one a better hitter. You gotta keep your eye on the ball, son. Homeruns come from a keen eye, a good swing, good posture, and a certain amount of unlucky luck.

I will be doing a little private excercise for a bit. Please bear with me. The next thing that I write, might be a little different than the usual pedestrian shite that I chuck towards you. Please bear with me...things ( like the title? ) will be normal...soon?

Hee Hee Hee.






Wednesday, March 17, 2004



Your Stupid Person Of The Day Nominations...



I nominate myself for staying up this late and not getting St. Patricks Night off of work.

You?





Tuesday, March 16, 2004



Missy Elliot...

The day after I got my hair Cut. Done. Did. I was doing all of the obligatory prep crap at work and realized that all of the guys in the back didn't say anything about my haircut when I arrived. Not that I care much. Not that I expect them to notice, but, at my work, if there's something different about you - you'll have somebody calling you on it and make fun of you about it. We all do it. New shirt, hat, mustache? It all becames garbled Spanglish cussword observations. It's fun.

But...anyway, I was tying my tie or something in front of the mirror in the bathroom and realized to myself that none of the guys said anything. Hmmm...maybe they really don't notice anything about me. That's good in a way, I thought.

Later that day, I was talking to a customer.
A nice lady that I joke around with a lot.

She told me that my hair was getting long.

Dude.






Chinks...

I can hear a distant sprinkler spraying water against metal once every five seconds. Just realized that it was the music from the headphones right by me. Just realized that I'm retarded.

Yeah.






Sunday, March 14, 2004



30 Days Of Night...

After poker last night, we all ended up at a strip club. I'd never been to this one before. My girlfriend had gone before with my friends, the bastards. They all went without me one night when I had to work. The place was pretty big. We drank. Saw some boobs. Girlfriend gave me crap because I gave money to the angry, Gothic stripper. I only gave her money because she danced to Ministry. My girlfriend liked the girl with the glasses, but we couldn't find her afterwards. She was probably giving a lap dance to a fat, balding man.

I think that strip clubs would be a lot more interesting if the girls were covered in Prime Rib and the audience threw hungry tigers up on the stage instead of cash.

Now that - would make me horny.






Saturday, March 13, 2004



Ranch Dressing...



Had a dream about pizza last night, and first thing that I wake up this morning, my girlfriend asks if I want to get a pizza. So, I said okay. I had no choice. The gods want me to eat a pizza - then I'll do, damnit! So, the pizza guy's coming now. Because I'm loyal. I pay attention to my mind. This came straight from the dream police and I turned it into reality. Yes. Really. I mean it. I'm stupid. I'm going to go eat my pizza now. I'm not even hungry, though. I'm going to eat my pizza and watch The Last Temptation Of Christ.




Friday, March 12, 2004



A Cat...

Peed inside my car.

( not while I was driving it. )

It smells.




Thursday, March 11, 2004



Might As Well...

Write.
Right.
Now.
Because.
This.
May.
Be.
The.
Only.
Chance.
I'll.
Get.




Wednesday, March 10, 2004



I Am Roberta Sparrow's Unwashed Hair...



And it's kind of weird when I'm checking my hits for the day on Fat Free Milk and I see my name typed into Yahoo or Google or something like that. Or when the site is like, number eight or ten when my last name is typed in. That's what I want, right? Make MALONE into a household name? Hmmm...No, maybe not. People scare the bejeezus out of me. I just want to be left alone and to die quietly. Fuck fame.

But, what if my almost - seventy year old father decides to do some gynecological - I mean, some genealogical investigating on the WWW? And up pops Fat Free Leche? All full of poo and F words? What if somebody finds me that I want to avoid? No, I don’t have any enemies – and YES, I am paranoid. My old friend Adam just found me after we both lost touch with each other. Guess how he found me? Google. My name’s easy to find. It’s number friggin’ one on there. But, that’s good, right? Man, I’m confused.

And what about this happy crap? Why would anybody type in my funky spelled first name and ankle? Come on. That’s just weird. Who was that? Why? See, I told you I’m paranoid. I guess I should stop typing my own name in posts if I’m gonna get all funny about people typing in my name on search engines. See, I need money. That’s it. Mass quantities of cash help ease my curious and sick mind. I accept all donations. I need to be an actor. I sure as hell can’t be an athlete unless people sponsor beer drinking and comic book reading. You just let me know, Bubba.

Kevynn Malone. OUT.

Doh.




Tuesday, March 09, 2004



I Love...

Plumbing problems and hot days.
Oh, wait - no, I don't.




Monday, March 08, 2004



Tom Vu...



Yeah. So, yes I was on a 80 Ft. Yacht on Saturday. It was NICE. Played Texas Hold Em' on a poker table while cruising Long Beach. Ate too much lobster. Drank insane amounts of alcohol. Danced for one whole minute with a room full of Czechoslovakian girls that looked like short Mexicans to me - but, whatever. Got boarded by the Coast Guard. Very Miami Vice. No, wait - it was nothing like Miami Vice. That was stupid. Won half the pot in the game. Cut my hand by accident and had blood on my nose the whole ride back home and no one either noticed or bothered to tell me through their drunken hazes. Maybe both.

And that's about it.
It was cool as the swear word that starts with F.
There were no ninjas, though.
Now, that would've been even better.
Or monkeys.
No, wait - or midgets.
Or...

Okay. I'll stop.






Later...

After some sleep, I will tell you about my Saturday night.
It involved an 80 ft. yacht, poker, booze, and The Coast Guard.

No foolin'.




Friday, March 05, 2004



Bud Light...

Went to the BIG pet store today. Tried to find a thing that our turtle can climb on. Bought a huge stick. Also bought a couple of goldfish for it to eat. The turtle - not the stick. The entire time that I was driving home - I felt guilt-ridden, because I'm a big pussy. I didn't feel like it when the nice kid was scooping them up - I felt like it was the natural order of things - but when The two fish were sloshing around in my passanger seat, I started to feel bad. I put them in the tank and apologized to them in my mind. The fish are still there. I've gone back to the pet store and bought fish food. Apparently, my turtle isn't a normal turtle. He's retarded and slow-moving. Now, I have two more pets. Such is my life.






Irwin...

I went to the LA Zoo today and was a tad bit let down. All of the animals looked so depressed, they seemed to frown at their surroundings, and all of the cages looked rust-filled. Especially the monkeys. One always expects monkeys to be jovial and frivolous, but at the zoo, they seemed bored and disappointed to be there. I watched one of the trainers feed one of the two rhinoceroses, and the trainer appeared to be stoned, and when the rhino came out of the back to eat the food that the loaded trainer provided, it seemed totally lethargic, and when it found the food, after looking for fifteen minutes, it mowed down upon it as if it were stoned too. It made me picture the trainer taking a huge bong hit and blowing it in the rhino's face. Needless to say, I was let down by my zoo experience.

I did like the snake room, though...




Wednesday, March 03, 2004



Mas...

More and more - as time goes on...
I'm finding it difficult to write.
Lame stuff, important stuff...
Too many distractions.

Please be quiet, so that I can write The Great American Novel that no one will read.

Thank you.




Monday, March 01, 2004



Life Lesson Number 4335...



Was just in the backyard reading Orbiter by Warren Ellis. It started to rain. I noticed a bird peeking his head out and making a ruckus in the big, ol' palm tree covered in ivy that we have by the patio. I thought that it was nice. Maybe he was appreciating the sporadic drops just like I was, y' know? Then I saw another bird fly by really fast. The bird in the palm tree ducked his head back in, but something fell to the ground in the bushes. My cat stopped performing crazy-eight circles around my ankles and darted to the spot in the bushes. It was a baby bird. My cat had it in it's mouth and then ran away. I yelled at him and he took of, probably to finish his meal. I looked back up at the spot where I saw the momma bird. She wasn't there. I wish I had a ladder, so that I could see if she was crying up there in her little birdy home. I don't have a ladder - so, I went back in my human-y home and typed this.

The end.






Wanna lick? Psych!...

I got offered a new job in my dream last night - then I woke up, and was severely disappointed.
Man, what a buzzkill. That's even worse than waking up from a sex or comic book one...




Thursday, February 26, 2004



Homage To Catalonia...



I never usually end up talking about personal things, I don’t know why – some stuff peeks through every once in a while – it’s not like I avoid it – just whatever makes it on the screen makes it on the screen. Back in the good ol’ days, when the majority of the stuff that I’d write was on paper – I’d pour out my heart – but back then my heart was overflowing…or empty – you take your pick. Now, I’m just lucky to spend time throwing words into the cesspool that is The Internet. I was going to say The Ocean. I don’t know why I said cesspool.

Ummm…yeah, lost my train of thought…Oh yeah. What’s up with me lately? Do you care? No. Will I continue? Yes.

I’ve been working a lot – but reluctantly because I hate everything that I do and would love a new job, so it’s up to me, punks. It’d be nice to have a good job again. You know, a semi-normal job in an office doing fun things like I used to do. If anybody knows of a good, doesn’t have to be exciting job that pays a decent salary in THE O.C. – you all just let me know at Kevynn75@hotmail.com, okay? I’ll give you candy. I try to take days off, sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes things get payed. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I spell PAID wrong. Sometimes I care, Scooby.

Got all of my money back from the bank. They messed up a deposit of mine and ended up owing me about $500. I love banks. No. I. Don’t. I want to punch a bank in the face.

I’ve been playing way too much poker with friends. I win sometimes – which helps. Sometimes I lose – which doesn’t. But all of my friends are nice. Sometimes they’ll invite friends from work. Sometimes, they’re not going to be coming back because they’re weird. Like the guy that I branded “The Poker Nazi”. Did not like “The Poker Nazi”. “The Poker Nazi” will not be coming back because Captain America Kevynn said so.

To add to all of this – I’ve been going on a comic book frenzy. I don’t know how this happened, folks. I somehow got back into this whole nerd game again. I love it, though. But I’m running out of space in my house and in my head. Dollar back issue bin sales in the last two weeks aren’t helping either. I just remembered that I gave one of the guys at the comic books store the URL to this site, which makes me an ultra-super-duper-nerd. Yeah. I didn’t give it to the cool girl that works there. I gave it to a male. He’s probably reading this right now. No offense, guy – towards you as a person. It’s just your gender that makes my actions pitiful, sharing this with a girl still makes me a nerd – buy just not as much of one, y’ dig? Guys are poo. But you’re in my cool book. Discount on next weeks issues, please. Thank you.

I never told you that I was going to go skydiving, did I? Or, maybe I did? Ahhh..who cares. This was a Xmas prez from Joe. This’ll be in April, I think. I’m going to fall out of the sky.

Gonna visit the sis in Austin. Soon. Easter? Something like that. She just wrote me an email that she’s dating a new guy. A mechanic, she said. I’m too old for this stuff.

Going to Vegas soon. Or at least that’s what we’re saying. April? Combining it with the skydiving? Need donations.

Amsterdam in September. Girlfriend’s graduating from college. How will I afford to get there? I’ll make do. Getting back will be the problem. Ha.

I need to get all of the tattoo work done on my back before the guy goes on tour for a month. Need to remind myself to get all of my permanent scarring done as soon as possible.

Need to smoke.

Done.

I actually looked at baby clothes the other day. This is how old I’m getting. No, I’m not pregnant – but my friends are dropping off puppy litters at an alarming rate, so now this is part of my constant perusals when I’m in clothing departments. The older we get, the wider we wander. Tools matter now. Flowerpots. Dishes. Glue. Scotch tape. Lampshades. All of these things make me weep.

Never got my car window fixed. Now I can swim and drive at the same time. I won’t need to shower before work tomorrow. I’m just going to bring shampoo in the car.

They opened up a new Pet Smart close to me. So, now, maybe I won’t have to go so far to get all of the supplies and feed that I need for my girlfriend’s ever-growing stable of refugee wildlife. Is me, expressing pleasure at having a Pet Smart nearby equivalent to a hick being happy that a new Wal-Mart just opened in his vicinity? You know, so that he doesn’t have to drive forty miles into town just to buy some damn ammo?

I really need to get that cartoon script done. Mr. Big Connections at my work has been asking me about it. Mr. Needs To Find Some Time needs to get that shit in his hands. Big studios = happy happenings for me.

I’ve sworn off of sporadic freelance writing for the rest of my life. I’ve chopped the head off of that hideous beast. May it rest in Hell.

Cartoon Pig and me started a play. I’m waiting for him to type up what we have so far. But, he’s kind of busy being a student teacher and dodging spit wads, so I’ll wait…

I also talked to Joe about helping me with one of my scripts. Years ago, he used to help me write it via email, back in the day when we both had fancy jobs and ample amounts of time…Now, he’s divorced and I’m in a relationship. Go figure.

Never got back word from Marvel comics about my writing submissions. They said that it would take a crap load of time. So…now…I think…it’s been a crap load. It was worth a shot. I would’ve killed off everybody in the Marvel Universe anyway, so maybe it was a good thing.

I’ve been taking more pictures now and know how to transfer them all to my computer – but I don’t know how to make them all small and neat. I think I need Photoshop. I had a copy once, but think that I lent it out to a friend. I need it back, friend or else I can’t post pics of me, then I can’t turn people into stone – and what fun is that. Some nice guy wrote me – telling me how to do it – but I’m really stupid and the shit passed right through me like last night’s Taco Bell.

And I think that’s it.

See? Aren’t you sorry you asked? Oh – wait…you didn’t ask for this much info. Oh, well. Live with it. I do. Tell me a story. Search through your parent’s attics and give me comic books. Dress up like Atticus Finch. I’ll be Boo Radley, but I get to be Atticus next time, okay?

Now I can go.

But most importantly – now you can go too.

Bye.




Tuesday, February 24, 2004



That Last Post...

Was really bad. I have been having a lot of those dreams, though.
All my writing lately hasn't even been half-assed...it's been, like...one-sixteenth of an ass.

This post will be better.

Oh, wait...no it won't.






Mi Ojos...

Man, have my dreams been crazy lately or what?
Seriously. They've all been nuts. All of them involve women.
Ummm...maybe I shouldn't say anymore.






Cat...



Jumped on my shoulder while I was pooing.
I tried to lean a little...
and it was an expensive sweater, y' know?
So, I tilted to the right - but he wasnt down with that.
His grip only tightened.
So, then I tried to, kind of, lean towards the left. Towards the shower.
I pulled back the curtain and...
He clawed the hell out of my neck.
I screamed.
On the toilet.
It would've beenn a lot funnier if you would've been there.
But...why would you be in the bathroom with me anyway?
Get out.
Don't stay.
How do I get in these situations, btw?
If my life was a movie - you'd pass it off as poorly written...

Oh...wait.




Monday, February 23, 2004



Be Like Einstein…



Think of Cosmological Constants, but forget to get a haircut.

What’s Einstein like, Yolanda? He’s cool…he’s cool

It’s been raining sporadically in the past week. I’m apologizing to it right now. I’ve been ignoring it. I feel horrible. This may be the only time in my life in which I’ve totally been unaware of my surroundings. I’ve been so wrapped up in bullshit, that I haven’t taken the time to do the things that I used to enjoy and that used to make me an appreciative person. I haven’t once walked around in the rain. I haven’t splashed purposely in a puddle. I haven’t had the windows open. I haven’t once looked up at the sky while it rained. This is all my fault and no one else’s. I’ve forgotten a little of whom I used to be. For this, I beg your humble forgiveness.

But I’m already making atonements for my sins.

I’m typing this on a laptop in the backyard in the rain.

In my underwear.

Thank you. Have a nice day.




Friday, February 20, 2004




Now My Socks Are Wet...

Hey now. We just cleaned the carpets, so I have to take off my shoes. Well, actually...we didn't just clean the carpets - she did. I was at the neighbors playing JENGA. I ended up losing the big match. I now have the title, " Ultimate Loser. " I can live with that. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but JENGA will never hurt me. I wish I was made of wood. Some would say that since that I'm a male - that in a way - I am. I can live with that also. Anything that anybody says about me tonight must be true. That's how I feel right now. Yup. I agree.




Thursday, February 19, 2004



Five Dollar Boom Boom...



I seriously used to hump bedposts and basketball poles when I was young...

Am I ashamed?

Maybe.




Tuesday, February 17, 2004



Sex And The Wussy...

What's worse? Dashing home to record the Sex And The City cast farewell on Oprah after work for my girlfriend, or me being just as excited to watch it as her? I think I know the answer to this one...






Saturday, February 14, 2004



Harvey Pekar Depot...

So far, I picked up the sucky-ass tulips that I ordered, and did a double take. The arrangement seemed way too small. I told the gals at the flower shop that this one wasn't mine. They showed me the receipt. I paid thirty dollars for poo. I said thank you. Started laughing in the car. Gave the girlfriend her present. It was nice. Now I'm gonna go eat. Then I'm gonna start drinking. Then I will chop off her head and hide the body. Stupid Valentines Day.




Friday, February 13, 2004



Mrs. Vlad Tepes = Happy...

Seriously, I think that this may be the earliest I've gone to sleep in a loooooooonnng time...

Rejoice!





Thursday, February 12, 2004



Right About Now...

Tha funk soul brutha'. I know you were thinking that when I said it. Anyway, I can't hear a damn thing right now. My ears have been all plugged up since I've been a little sicky lately and now I gave it to my girlfriend, but she's got it ten times worse than I had it. Round of applause for me, please. Thank you. I'll be here all week. Remember to tip your waitresses...

So...whatever you've been saying about me - I can't hear you, go nuts - you fargin' bastiches.




Wednesday, February 11, 2004



Just Got Back From Taking...

No, not a poo - but the new cat to the vet to get his balls snipped off. I've never had a guy cat before. I never knew what a pissy, little horny cat can make a house smell like. It's been miserable. So, off he went. And now, maybe he's in a cage? pumped up full of drugs to make him sleep easier. He's a pound lighter and dreaming...of taking a big crap in one of my shoes when he gets back...

I'm sorry, Spider-The-New-Cat.

Oh, wait...no, I'm not.






Ooooooo...I Just Called The Cops...

On some guy across the street, yelling into the night. Hey, he might be cool and all - he may be speaking out the poetry in his mind - but, say your words somewhere else, buddy. I'm crazier than you, and there's only enough room for one of us right now, okay Mr. Weirdo-In-The-Park?







We Have Millions Of Probe Droids Searching The Galaxy ... I Want Proof, Not Leads....

Man. Seriously. I can't concentrate. Too late. Too little time. Getting over a small cold and took the night off because of it. What have I done with my time? It's out there somewhere in space, speeding through galactic, philotic ansibles and landing on Greedo's vid screen.

New links to the left.
I'll get to more later.
Falling asleep...




Monday, February 09, 2004



Electric Youth...



Got out of the bar at three in the morning last night. Tons of people all after eleven. I was also coming down with a cold or something too, but all I needed was some sleep. I got some. Do I feel better? No. Am I going to play poker and drink some beer and laugh and eat bad food and spend money and use AND again? Yes.




Sunday, February 08, 2004



This Weekend...

Has sucked so far.
How?
It just has.
I mean, I still don't have super powers...so...
It sucked.




Wednesday, February 04, 2004

The Best Thing That I Did Today
Was The Worst Thing That I Could've Done...
Because Then - Everything Was Better After That...





I have a new wallet now. Strikes me funny that, in twenty-eight years, I think that this is only the second time that I've bought one myself. There were probably a couple before that, but they were probably fastened together with Velcro, so they don't count. I might've traded a friend one of my G.I. Joes for one of the wallets that I had before. And the one before this, was a Harley Davidson one that I bought in a biker shop in downtown Cincinnati when I was eighteen. It had a long chain on it. I thought it was cool. And it helped prevent people from stealing it while I tried to sleep on the Greyhound bus too.

Dude, yes - I am getting older...nothing makes an old dog sniff the aging air more than perusing wallets in Target because your old one's on its last thread. I cheaped out and bought it at Target. Do you have Target where you live? It's like the west coast equivalent of your Wal-Mart. Except without the guns. And the old people greeting you. We do have Wal-Mart here though. Don't get me wrong. We have a lot here that you do too. Except White Castles...maybe that's a good thing. But...

Buying a new wallet made me feel ancient. Car lots, buying booze, lap dances, work clothes, ordering for your date, having kids call you SIR...none of this makes you feel as dusty as buying a wallet by yourself. I don't know why, but it does. I also bought some plain, white t-shirts, socks, light bulbs, Cokes, and picture frames. That's old too. But I did spend a lot of time agonizing over whether to buy more Star Wars figures - so that doesn't make me a gray ol' man yet, does it?

If I could've stopped any part of the day today, it would've been the part where I woke up, and if I could've sped up a part of the day it would've been the part that I'm at now. Stretch it to the limit. See what happens in the end before you fall asleep and have to return it the next day to avoid late fees.

I think that I just figured out the law of nature, kids. We have to hunt down all of the cats, let the dogs fight it out amongst themselves and let the monkeys be monkeys. Everything else can be bugs and insects. That sounds good to me.

I'm scared of the snail's pace in the world's race. I remember how cute and sad my little sister was, all at once, when she was young. She used to construct little dollhouses for the numerous snails that used to inhabit our front and backyard bushes. My father eventually found out and made her move her sticky cardboard and miniature plastic furniture mansion outside in the front by the doorbell. One day, as I was getting ready for school, she ran up to me crying. I followed her outside and looked towards the direction that she was pointing at with her tiny little fingers. Cardboard snail shelter intact, but myriad shiny snail trails leading from her house, over the walls, and back into the bushes.

Sad for little girls. A relief for fathers. Freedom for fast-moving snails in the night. It must've been some operation for them under the cover of hushed darkness. I bet they ran real fast. She was only slowing them down.

Little sister's all grown up now, trying to build her own house. While I feel like one of her snails. Except the walls are bigger for me and I can't figure out which way to go. Would you look for me if I left a phosphorescent trail for you? Would you try to retrieve me like she did? Would you try to replace me with another or just forget about me and move on to something bigger?

I like my new wallet. It's nicer. Sleeker. Slimmer. Kind of like how I am now in my older age. I liked only filling in the new wallet with the bare essentials and chucking out the pack rat paranoiac feeling that I-cant–throw-this-away-because-I-think-that-I-might-need-it-in-an-emergency. I like feeling that if an emergency came up and if I needed a number or a scrap of paper that I'd survive and that I should just chill and that none of this stuff comes up anyway, and that if I really needed it - then I could get it - and if I couldn't? Then fuck it. My mind keeps on telling me to get jumper cables for my car, but I still haven't gotten those yet, though - have I? So why worry about having a certain business card? Yes. Why?

Oh...everything's fine. This is part of the reason why I turn nonsense letters into nonsense sentences. This is how I've always been. All questions with, maybe, a different answer every second. Every second breeds more questions - all you're trying to do is catch up. You forget most of it by the time that you wake up the next day - and then...shake...stir...repeat process.

Looking at the long list of ingredients to the package of Pringles that I brought home for my girlfriend makes me depressed. Looking at the cigar to my right doesn't. Uh-huh. Yeah. Hypocrite. I spent all of my day working at a job that I hate doing, now that I should be sleeping at three in the morning - I finally feel alive. Love the girlfriend and can't wait to spend time with her - but now that she's asleep in the next room - I feel alive. Feeling like, I think, the person that she fell in love with. The person at work all day doesn't exist. He's just a gossamer image of me now. Tonight's ME can totally kick today's ME's ass.

I'm getting better and better each day…I hope. I need a little fast and a little slow snail pace. I need what I need based on my schedule. I need you to listen to me. I need to listen to myself. I need to be young and old all in the same moment. I need sleep and I need to wake up. I want you to kiss me and I want you to leave me alone. I need more time and I've used all of mine up. I need to keep drinking and I need to sober up. I need to start running harder. I only want to float. I can' t watch. My eyes won't close. I should stop writing...

But I can't shut up...


Monday, February 02, 2004



Shotgun Hemingway...

Goodbye Janet Jackson superbowl picture. My fault for putting it up in the first place. I didn't care when I was watching the stupid half time show, I was too busy drinking free beers at my employee party. I posted it last night, but I was drunk. I think that I have more important things to post anyway. Like stuff about comic books, beer, and nasty, ol' Mynocks sucking out all of my juice. You gotta pick em' all off, one by one. Check thoroughly - you don't want to miss one and then have to pull over again.

It's raining hard and then minutes later - hardly raining. All of the windows are open. I cleaned around the house today. I can feel the chill air blowing as I type this, kind of reminds me of how I used to write back in my single days. All alone in a big, ol' apartment, with no company except for weather...and it's cold in Kalifornia tonight. Not like your cold, but my cold. Orange County cold. Which isn't as tough as yours, but beautiful just the same.








Won 340 Dollars In Poker And 50 dollars On The Super Bowl Janet Jackson Tit Fest This Weekend...

I feel pretty lucky.
And I took tonight off.
No bartending for this guy.
Buy me a drink.