Monday, April 28, 2008

Dead people I never knew, somehow comfort me..








Photo retouch I did today after work for fun.
Old photos are bitchin. This is an old civil war era couple.
People back then were HARD-FUCKING CORE.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

GRAYMALKIN...

"When you are dying, entities come to dismantle your ego and everything that makes you who you are. If you don't fight them, they're angels slowly and gently coaxing you into oblivion. If you fight them, they are demons, forcefully dragging you into Hell."

Thursday, April 17, 2008

The "I" inside





I was just asked, (ala voice in the mind)
"Do I resume being depressed now?"

Who was asking? Was it Me asking Me?
Why are there even two parties in the conversation?
I mean, I talk to myself all the time, but it feels like
one person. This felt like two. Like co-workers.

Could it be that my emotions are sectioned into
scheduled intervals and levels of intensity by someone else?

The really freaky part is, the other "Me" was asking me this as
if asking a boss to continue a task.
This would mean "I" was the one engineering my emotional schedule.

I'll take it.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Wishful thinking...

Today is bizarre.
Not much work to do today, so I walked down to the waterfront, sat and watched
the trillions of little fishing boats troll the Columbia river. Hundreds of bastards kicking back, drinking beer,
hauling no doubt malformed, stinky fish out of the polluted waters with gusto. I envied them.
Planes were constantly coming and going from PDX airport.
Everytime a departing plane would fly over the river, I would try to will
one of the avionics cables or jets to malfunction so I could watch the flaming wreckage
crash into the I-5 bridge. I used to try to move matchbooks when I was younger.
This didn't work either. I had no malice or ill will toward anyone on the plane or bridge, it was just a moment of morbidity. It was similar to when you ponder for a split-second, turning your car into the oncoming lane to collide headfirst in a flaming death with whoever is unfortunate enough to be closest.

Then I started feeling horrible because I realized that if the plane had exploded and crashed into the bridge,
it would have been my doing... unless it was a bit of clairvoyance that is.
Then, I saw a Mallard Duck and it's mate, slowly padding along the beach, letting the water wash over their feet. They were watching the fishermen with innocent interest.
That was kinda nice.
Then I went back to work. "WAH-WAHHHHHH!"

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Baby Zero




The title was for a previous thought, but I changed my mind..
I still liked the title tho, so I left it so I'd remember it for something else.
Here's a random piece I wrote for a short story I'm working on.

EXCERPT FROM UNTITLED STORY:
"Her eyes were deep, dark black. They glittered and opened and closed rapidly, like a raven's.
I tried, but was never able to see the whites of her eyes. It must have been the intrinsic nature of her eyelids,
shaped as they were by whatever esoteric lineage she claimed, that obscured the whites from view at all angles.
Two things above all unnerved me about her eyes. Firstly, though they were so black and
boundless, they didn't seem empty like you would think. They were alive with movement, as though there were
tiny clockwork gyros and gears moving miniscule lights around inside. Perhaps flourescent sperm were
swimming around in there, apparently driven mad, trapped in those spheres of stygian syrup, crying out with pinpoints of
frantic, spasmodic insanity. Choked, bleating, sickly pale lights without voice.. glittering in a disgusting, wet maelstrom of
slithering infinitesmal, barbed worms. Thorny, spiny, fishbones, sculpted of blanched moonlight, peeking and then dipping beneath
the oily, black slick to swim just beneath the surface of her madness. As nausea-inducing as this imagery appeared to me, so visceral and high resolution as to almost gag me, I found it increasingly more erotic... quite unnaturally and irrationally so.
Then again, maybe the tiny lights were flashing in carefully engineered patterns and levels of intensity to disarm me, brainwash me?

Was it the drugs? It felt mostly real.

The second unsettling thing was that I could see my face
reflected in her eyes, and In those black depths, I now appeared hollow and empty. Eyes sunken, skin grey."

Thursday, April 10, 2008

I CAN'T STOP WATCHING TRAILER PARK BOYS...




This show is so goddamned comforting.
Bubbles and Lahey are my faves. Lahey is the most hilarious tho.
I had heard the first three seasons were good but the rest sucked.
BULLSHIT!! I think season 5 is as funny or funnier than any of the other seasons.
I hated J-rock at first, but he comes alive in season 5... didn't mean to rhyme that.
I'm now burning seasons 6 and 7. Tonight will be good.
"2 THINGS LAHEY, PUT ON SOME PANTS, THEN FUCK OFF!"

"YOU GOT ANY BETTER IDEAS RANDY?!? NO? THEN PUT ON A SHIRT AND SHUT UP!"

Ok, the DVD-R just turned into a coaster... my last DVD-R. SWEET!
well, at least a brand new office episode is on tonight.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

...




This is a strange time.
2 things I'm glad for:
1: my taxes are fucking DONE.

2: I'm experiencing a creativity spurt, which is like
life itself to me. The most miserable and close to suicide I've ever
been was during times when I couldn't create something.
I have to be somewhat miserable in order to be inspired.
So I make something. Something probably laughable or plain hideous by
everyone else's standards. No matter. Just getting it out
and into tangibly visible form... it's almost like any other
bodily function. You can't just suppress it without consequence.
It's basically an involuntary ecaculation of condensed thought vapor.
Then,... again, much like bodily functions, you feel better.
The problem is, miserable doesn't automatically and always = inspiration.
When you are both miserable AND uninspired.. those are tough times.

"Thought vomit" has a nice ring to it.