happy fucking saint patrick's day.

if it were my tits, I could just wipe it off,
and i heard that the protiens are good for your face, so I wouldn’t have even been that mad.
but why did you have to come in my hair?

your molten little soldiers, singing their swan song in my mane

and as you laid there, sleeping off the great toll the past four minutes of pleasure had taken on you,
i swear i can feel them squirming,
damn this congealing mass on the side of my head.

my wild mermaid hair was at the peak of insanity,
but the wavy stands got sucked into the whirlpool of remorse.

i never even got off.

well, you looked pretty fucking pleased with yourself.

in the morning
i forced myself on the packed 57 bus back to kenmore square,
and the metallic, sweaty scent seeped from my locks,
like canned ocean air mixed with drunken lust.

i look around
and everyone knows,
because your few (and i mean few) moments of pleasure
formed a clump of regret that screamed in neon lights
I’M A WHORE

but i guess that’s what happens when you drink tequilla on saint patrick’s day

Interstate 75, March 14th

the sun in
our eyes
deep fried
our arms--


we wrapped
them in a tiger
towel and Bolles.



Goodbye
turquoise water,
hello lazy gators.

I Wish You Would Have Just Gotten Diagnosed

I
His voice used to roll through the open house,
From his office it would bounce off the walls, into the den.
The deep vibrato shook my spine.
Now he just speaks in broken whispers.


II
I poured Kettle One into his favorite square glass,
“The only medicine I need.” Fuck L-dopa.
His massive hands griped the sweaty vessel,
And his shaking made the ice cubes rattle
While vodka splashed from the brim.


III
He had been shouting for help for hours,
I was late for our weekly visit.
I found him limp, naked and cold on the bathroom floor.
He stopped shaking.

Well shit.

I'm not really sure what this has become.

I'm not really sure what I have become.

I've just been stuck in a rut, but I don't know if it is a rut or I just don't have anything else to say.

I may have just become one of those people that say they are an artist but nothing to show for it.


That's not who I am.... I just need to produce produce produce.

I'm going to screenprint on saturday. (FOR REAL) and after the reading at 28th street I want to write more.

But it's one thing to want to do something, and another to stop plopping down in front of the computer and actualy make something worth while.


Maybe I'll write poems about The Wire, that seems to be the only thing holding my intrest lately....

Let me start by explaining that last entry.

I have very severe ADD. I used to take pills for it, and I was going to write about that, but then I spent so long on the drawing and I couldn't do any more drawings so I just put that one up. Once again, I got distracted. I had many things to write about, but I would start typing, get a few sentences in, and think THIS IS DUMB NO ONE WILL LIKE THIS because I mean there are SO many people (one, squid) that read this, and I just love entertaining all of you.

Where was I?

I don't know, I want to talk about my brother's dumb dog bandit.


Okay, so he's pretty cute. But that is ALL HE HAS going for him. He barks alot, pees everywhere, and he eats all my chapstick. and he humps alot of things, which is gross. I understand he is just a puppy, but COME ON.



He sriously will hunt down a chapstick and chew the shit out of it.

I attempted to research this phenomenon, and figure out why he is so in love with all the chapsticks, but all I can find are awful yahoo answers. He KNOWS when you have a chapstick on you, and he will get it.

All I know is that my ADD kicked in again and I am tired of writing this post.

NO MORE

The First Post

The only reason I am starting a blog is because I don't have too much to do at work and my friend Squid peer pressured me into writing one.

I just do not think I have too many interesting things to say, but maybe writing this will spark my creativity. I haven't done any art in about a month, and I am feeling a void now. I just need to get inspired by something, and figuring that I am on the internet at least eight hours a day, a blog seems like the thing that would make the most sense.

I plan on making this a visual blog as well, I just need to get a waccom pad, and I have christmas money that has been begging to get spent.

For now, I will leave you with a piece I did in MS paint about my job.



SO worth four years of art school.