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.

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.

A Cat...

Peed inside my car.

( not while I was driving it. )

It smells.

Might As Well...

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

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.

I Love...

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

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'.

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...

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

Five Dollar Boom Boom...



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

Am I ashamed?

Maybe.

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...

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.

Mrs. Vlad Tepes = Happy...

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

Rejoice!

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.

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...

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.

This Weekend...

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

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...

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.

Boring Words...

I finally figured out the whole digital camera thing. Both my girlfriend and I have been lagging on experimenting with swingers parties...oops...I meant, lagging on experimenting with downloading pictures. I don't know if I'll keep another blog with photos, or just post em' here, or never show them. Oh, and I also don't know how to make em' smaller - do I need PhotoShop for that? or can I use something else? I tried with some other programs similar to it, but the results sucked. I could swear that I had Photoshop. I think I lent it out. I never get my crap back, man - I swear. I have no memory card anyway. I need to get one. Sooner or never.

I forgot to tell you that I'm going sky diving too. That's in April, I think.

The bank lost $450.00 of mine. I spent about an hour yesterday with them while they sorted out their fuck up.

I hope that your weekend is good. We're having an employee party on Super Bowl Sunday. I could give a rat's arse about the outcome of the game. I'm just there to drink the free beer and to not work.

This post is boring.

I apologize.

Wait. No, I don't.

Just A Minute Ago...

Her - You smell like a baby...
Me - What? Babies poop themselves.
Her - No, you smell like a good baby.
Me - ...That's because I just ate one.

Shipping This Week: January 28...





STAR WARS INFINITIES RETURN OF THE JEDI #2 (Of 4) $2.99
BATMAN #623 $2.25
HELLBLAZER #192 (MR) $2.75
SUPERMAN #201 $2.25
POWERS #36 (MR) $2.95
WALKING DEAD #4 (MR) $2.95
WANTED #2 (Of 6) (MR) $2.99
AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #503 $2.25
THE PUNISHER #2 (MR) $2.99
ULTIMATE FANTASTIC FOUR #2 $2.25
ULTIMATE SIX #6 (Of 7) $2.25

This is all of the stuff that I have to get that is coming out at the comic book store tomorrow.
Every dollar I spend on comic books adds a point to my nerd pool.
I have a lot of points.

Thank you.

Wondering...

What if Tim Burton directed a remake of To Kill A Mockingbird?
Who would he cast as Boo Radley?
Besides Johnny Depp, I mean...

Super Nein...

Sometimes I don't feel like doing anything,
and then I have days like today in which I don't -
and it makes me wish that I did...

Sometimes I wake up, and I'm falling asleep, And I think that maybe the curtains are closing on me, But I wake up, Yes I wake up, Smiling. Sometimes I feel that the chance is surprising, Surprisingly good to be moving around, So I wake up, Yes I wake up, Smiling. So what? I feel fine, I'm OK, I've seen the lighter side of life, I'm alright, I feel good, So I'll do, I'll try to stop moving, Sometimes I wake up, and I'm falling asleep, And I've got to get going so much that I wanted to do, Yes I wake up, Smiling. And this could be my last chance, This may be my only chance, Yeah this could be my last chance, No more keeping my feet on the ground. Sometimes I feel that the chance is surprising, Surprisingly good to be moving around, And I move, And I wake up, Smiling. So what? I feel fine, I'm OK, I've seen the lighter side of life, I'm alright, I feel good, So I'll do, well it's time to stop moving. And this could be my last chance, This may be my only chance, Yeah this could be my last chance, No more keeping my feet on the ground. There's nothing to keep me, Nothing to keep me.



I am convinced that someday, a team of historians will spend years going through every single toy, drawing, scrap of writing, piece of junk, etc. to somehow dissect my grand life. They'll categorize everything, hoping, someday, to put it all on display. "Kevynn Malone's Pez Collection", "Nudie Drawings", "Nail Polish"...things like that.

They'll read through those forty notebooks that I have molding away in the garage, they'll unearth every file on my computer. My clothing will be purchased by a young, snotty actor and worn to holo-movie premieres. Gothic teens will scribble away Malone verses on their holo-Pee Chee folders during Economics. My great, granddaughter will be an old woman and refuse to speak to historians, fans, and the press. She'll never leave her mansion and silently curse my existence for the burdens that my brilliance bestowed upon her.

My house will be declared a historical landmark, and through photographs - it will be painstakingly recreated to look like it does today. Maybe they'll even make a movie about me, but they'll get all of the facts wrong. They'll jumble things together and kind of throw in a galactic predicament to heighten the drama. Paper cuts, break ups, and fuck ups aren't enough, I guess. They'll throw in Satan and a gay interior decorator too. Just because.

My image will be on t-shirts sold on the internet, people will dress like I do now, the glasses that I wear will finally come back in style. Poverty will be too. Fans will want to stay true to my works and live like a deaf, Chinese immigrant.

Somebody will write a book on Star Wars - but will write it based on what I thought about it. There will be Essays on Malone's Essays on Chewbacca's homosexuality. What'll happen to my comic book collection? Where will it end up? Why, at Leroy's Boy Home, that's where. Poor, beaten, disadvantaged children will be able to check out my issues only if they've been good and remember to not smear dirt on the pages of my old Amazing Spidermans.

They'll wonder, they'll write, ponder, theorize, oh, yes they will, as to what went on in my head, and how beautiful and adventurous it must've been to live my life - oh, what was it like to live his life? I wish my life was that exciting, they'll say...

Why did he have to die?, kids will cry! Young girls will do secret things to themselves after the lights have gone out and the parents are asleep. My face will lull their aching bodies into peaceful dreams. High school jocks will tell anybody with one of my books about how I was a necrophiliac, homo, and a pussy, and that only dorks read Malone. After practice, they'll read me quietly in their room and get the same feeling in their crotch that the young girls above this sentence did.

Bob Dylan will write a song about me - he'll still be alive. It won't reach the top of the charts, though... just because. People will drink my beer of choice just because I did, and because they're idiots. They'll pretend to like it too, even if it tastes just like water. People will unmotivate themselves on purpose and lie back and fantasize about some of the same things that I do. Simians, solitude, and secret passageways. They'll start losing their hair and starve themselves, they'll take up skateboarding and then break their ankles jumping out of cars when drunk so that they can't skate anymore. They'll also look up my sister Sindy, and read all of the stories that she published, they'll get tidbits about me here and there when reading her stuff and wonder what it must have been like to be the sibling of one so sad and mad all at the same time? What must of it of been like to share the same genes? To have all of that fire burning through your veins? His blood and thoughts were like the best heroin, his limbs were like silly putty. His grammatical syntax was shite.

I heard that he always longed for a dog, but ended up with countless homeless cats, I heard that he always wanted a bow and arrow set like he had when he was a kid, he always wanted a big, ol' box of toothpicks and a ton of wood glue too! That's just what I heard. I don't know why. He could never find enough time to do all of the things that he wanted, I read somewhere. Half of his time was spent daydreaming and being a kid while the other half accomplished smatterings of productivity sporadically. Sometimes he wrote weird sentences too!

I am convinced that someday, they will know me a little.

I am convinced that someday, I will too.

Hand Grenades...

You remember that movie, Pay It Forward? Yeah, I barely do either. I remember that Kevin Spacey looked like Mel Gibson in that one movie where he looked like hell, and that kind of reminds me of Vanilla Sky when Tom Cruise also looked like hell.

So, does that mean that I was just given The Looks Like Hell Award by Cheeks? No, actually it was nice of Cheeks to nominate me and he had some really cool things to say about my writing, and I'm touched all the way down to my crotch about it. Serious, doody. He's one of my daily reads and I'm honored. Thank you.

So, this means that I have to and tell you about somebody that I like or think that deserves praise. Zeus is out. Professor X? No. Jenna Jameson? Well, yeah - but she can't count. And by that I mean that she really can't count. That was stupid. I apologize.

Ummm...okay. I like IA's blog. I think he's keen. Read him. He's funny. And when he rags on fat people, everybody gets mad at him. The end.

Cheers.

The Name's ASH...Housewares...Hee-Yah!...

I was a zombie bartender tonight. Zombies make better bartenders than ninjas because ninjas steal all of your cool stuff and slice you up with their swords. Zombies are slow, sure - but you can always trust them for a stiff drink - it'll just come twenty minutes after you ordered it.

I saw a couple break up at the bar too. A guy and a girl in a relationship - NOT zombies. Zombies disintegrating is so 2003. Anyway, that was a first. The guy left, and then the girl started crying, so I started giving her a back rub and peppering the back of her neck with baby kisses. No, I didn't do that. I gave her some tissues. Not cool. Whatever it was all about - I'm on the girl's side. But not if she's insane - then, otherwise - I'm on the guy's side. No. Actually, I'm not, because guys are hairy and smell real bad. Or so I've heard.

Gwen Stacey's Broken Neck...

End of a day.
Beginning of a weekend again.
Yoda senses much poker in your future, hrmmm?
I think that I should go to sleep.
I meant to go earlier, but that never happens.
Maybe I'll pop in that Wild West documentary, sip orange juice, and see what happens.
Maybe I'll just pop in The Empire Strikes Back like I always do, and picture all of the scenes in my head until I drift off.
I used to think about all of the arcade games that I would have in my room if I was rich when I was a little kid.
Or when I was a little older I would picture myself with superpowers.
Or I would imagine that I was famous.
Or I would imagine that I was trapped in a dungeon and had to crawl through a passage way...and found a roomfull of tall, Amazonian, sex-starved naked women who picked me up and took me to their leader...then she commanded them all to............

Supplement Facts...

After work I saw the homeless guy that I always talk to. The one with the silver briefcase that yells out loud sometimes in the street. He's a very nice guy the times that he remembers me. I just got a newspaper from the liquor store when he saw me...

Hey, man - how's it hanging? Got some change? Haven't seen you around for a while!

I told him that I'd been around, maybe we'd just been missing each other.

Hey, man - you lost some weight!

I told him, me? No way. I never lose weight. Really?

Yeah, hey - you look like you're thinner. You gotta eat more. Get yo'self a lady!

Ha! I've already gotta lady, though...

Hey, you can get yo'self another!

Sure. Okay. Well, here you go. Take it easy man.

Yeah, okay - you still bartending at that...

Uh huh. Right down the street. Waiting tables too.

Cool, man. Cool.

Okay, bye.

Yeah. You too.

And then as I walked away he yelled...

Yeah, oh yeah, you should take a nap too!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, New Game...



Say something to the person that commented before you.

Rancor...



I Hate Bartending...but I like the money.
I'm so hungry...but can't find anything to eat.
I'm so tired...but can't go to sleep.
I like cheese...and cheese likes me.

Don't Splash The Pot...

Ummm...too much poker last night. Texas Hold Em' til the sun came out, and I lost the hundred bucks that I had earlier won off of friends to another friend who showed up at 2 a.m. No fair. The bastard. It's like spending a long time making the perfect ice cream sundae and letting somebody else eat it while you sit and watch. Oh well, Bubbas - I still came up 29 dollars, and Chris owes me 40. Last time we played, Chris managed to break the cover off of my air conditioner, get sick, drop a full roll of toilet paper in the toilet, get punched repeatedly by me, and chip his front tooth. Poor guy. He's like me sometimes - he's got the luck of a street mutt. That was a stupid sentence. Now it's off to eat and drink a lot. And maybe play some poker. Watch. We will. I know it. I'll bet you a million dollars. Poo.

Slurpee...



I just sucked down Quail eggs.

Sayonara.

Ancient Astronauts...

Don't worry baby, everything will turn out all right. Just like Dengar in the pic below. All he wanted was a little revenge, and I know that it's not really that productive to spend your life hating a smuggler with an already-heavy bounty on his head, but if trying to chase all of the Han Solo's in the galaxy makes your wounds heal faster - than, so be it. Go get em'. Zuckuss, 4-Lom, IG-88, Boba Fett, Boskk...did I forget anybody else? Bounty hunter scum.

I wish Carl Sagan was still alive. I wish that Jane Goodall and Carl Sagan had a baby - I wish that their baby would end up setting up a colony on Mars. I wish that their UNHOLY offspring would teach all future martians based on the writings of Orson Scott Card, Hank Chinaski and Warren Ellis.

I need to get more boxes and bags for my comic books when I go to the store in between my break tomorrow. Maybe I'll pick some up for my mind too. Preservation = value? Who am I kidding? Boys don't know anything about history. Just ask our nocturnal emissions and masturbatory fantasies. Take out the self-serving-pleasure factor-when-it-comes-to-the-jail break-of-sperm...and you have an Earth with a lot of elbow room. Room to roam, and a kingdom for cats. Meows all over, and a smorgasborg for dogs. It'd be like a comic strip and animated cartoon formula. Itchy. Scratchy. Tom. Spike. Garfield. Odie. Me. You. Spider Man. Venom.

This month should all be about Broca's Brain and about Boca Burgers. Let's all sit around and eat pretend meat and study the fabric of the universe instead of focusing on blogs, Britney, and Bin Ladin. Give me a little Beezus, Bukowski, and Beethoveen. Give me some beer, brain bravado, and beach music.

Let me remember everything that I need to do, and let me forget all of the things that I don't need.

Amen and Top Ramen.

Wit..



I want to learn how to knit.
Is it easy? I hope.
Yes, I'll be your target on this post.
Hey, but, c'mon man - wouldn't that be cool to like, knit yourself beanies and sweaters and stuff?
C'mon, you could make yourself a full body suit if you were bored.
You could make hats for your cats.
Or socks for rats.

Serious.

Barking Spiders...

The coolest thing about farting is that you don't have to use your hands to do it...

Splish Splash Bastard...

It's raining. My drivers side car window still isn't fixed. It won't go up. Thanks to the ass that made it a point to splash me as he drove by when I was at the stop light. AND I couldn't go to the comic book store either. Charlie Brown kind of day, Indeed.