Ghost of Christmas Past

I'm a hack hack hack.

Hackity sack hack hack.

I know this, and will slowly begin to evolve now. It's been enough time I suspect. I will, however, leave my old blogs up in order to leave the evidence of my angsty self injurious years.

So, I am now the Ghost of Christmas Present.

Know me better, man!

i like kafka

I like Kafka. But not when he happens to me.

I hate my life. But not when I stop thinking about it.

I’m awake now and thinking about it. And the light is bright not like night. My eyes feel wet. But in a strange way. I cry sometimes in the morning and that isn’t strange. But my eyes feel moldy. Moldy. Fucking strange. Sit up. And I feel so much lighter. Perhaps I’ve dropped weight while sleeping. Is it possible?

Holy Christ I see. I’m not me. This isn’t my body that I’m looking at. That’s why I’m moldy. This is why I’m moldy. My hands are flat. My arms are stiff. My fingers have joined together so I only have permanent mittens. I’ve turned to cardboard.

I’m cardboard.

I’m a cutout.

I’m two dimensional.

I’m even more combustible.

I’m standing at the mirror. There is no color or definition. I’m potato brown and without a nose. My eyes are still dark but without lashes or brows or the ability to close. They were wet but now they’re drying out and itchy. I wish I had Visene.

My legs are stiff but wobbly at the knees from creases I made as I rose from my bed.

I guess I haven’t done much these days. I guess I’m doomed to window displays. No. I can’t. I can’t live in any condition let alone like this. A box a lady.

I can’t close my eyes anymore. I can’t stop thinking.

The only solution? A match next to an old roach.

Her Hands that Hold Me

I love to watch her lips move while she quietly sings to a Tom Waits song. She’s doing it now. Sort of stare off at nothing and mouth how all the world is green. She’s all the world that’s green.
She lives across from my door. Shauna. I was mostly afraid of my neighbors. But I found her queer since she moved in without any furniture. I remember she just showed with nothing. I think she had a mattress. That was about it. And a bag of crap. I don’t know what the crap was. But it was in a bag. I looked at her through my peep hole. It was small, but it was enough. Alabaster and a red head on fire. Probably literally. These big dark eyes that I could even distinguish through the little hole. She looked at my door. I felt it. At that moment I knew we would be very close.
I remember that I got the nerve to knock. My mom used to make Jell-O molds for the neighbors, and I always found it kind of funny. So I made one in the shape of a bat. I only had a mold from Halloween.
I knocked on the door. Sheepishly. Firmly. Waited so so long. I knew she was looking at me through her own hole. I felt it.
She opened the door.
“Jell-O?”
Yeah…Hi. I live right there.”
“Nice. Nobody’s brought me Jell-O before.”
“I’ve never brought anybody Jell-O before.”
“Sweet. Come in.”
We made some small talk, exchanged names. I think she wanted me to leave, but I found myself looking around the apartment. The walls were covered in magazine clippings. Mostly of hands, lips and eyes. All the prettiest ones. She must’ve stayed up the whole night cutting them out. I wondered where the rest of the magazines were.
She didn’t have any furniture, like I had suspected. I gazed into the bedroom and saw a mattress, a computer, and a pile of clothes. That’s when I realized she was standing there in a tank and white panties. It was a pretty nice realization.
Then I made another. She probably wanted me to leave. So I asked her if she did. She just looked at me for a really long time. Said nothing. Then she shook her head. And she went and got her computer and played music. She pulled out a bottle of Russian vodka and told me to sit on the floor.
We stayed up all night. Got drunk. Listened to music. I wanted to watch her sleep, but she never dozed off. I did just stare at her hands. They were gaunt with long slender fingers. Her cuticles were ripped up and her palms were a bright pink. She was always rubbing them together. There were points when I watched peels of skin fall from them.
I went back to my apartment at about six in the morning. She told me to come back when I wasn’t busy.
So I did. Every night. And it was the best. We didn’t laugh much. But we talked some. The music was nicest. She’d play Tom Waits and mouth the words while lying on the floor. She was fun. She was relaxing. I knew we’d only get closer.
One afternoon I got up after a nap and decided to go check on Shauna. I knocked on the door. For a long time. And she didn’t answer.
So I went back to my apartment and watched through the peep hole. I waited for three hours pressed against my door. My eye felt like it would bleed. I didn’t blink.
But soon it was dawn again and I hadn’t moved. I sat down on the floor and pushed my palms into my knees. I closed my eyes and listened. There was nothing to be heard but sirens and a crying somewhere. That was the sound that lulled me into a fake sleep.
Suddenly I jerked awake. Fell forward. Smacked my face on the floor. I heard the distinct sound of hinges creaking. I leapt up. To the peep hole. Three tall men walked from the opposing apartment and made the hall even quieter. They left.
I crept from my apartment and approached Shauna’s door. Knocked. But she didn’t come. So I went in. It was quieter than the hall. The bottle of Russian vodka was broken all over the floor.
I walked into the bedroom and found Shauna splayed on the mattress. She was naked and looking content. Face down. Her lips were blue and her neck was bruised. There were condoms all over the floor. And her hands. Her hands. They looked black. Burned and broken. She looked up at me and smiled. She said she didn’t know why. It had sounded like fun at first.
I stroked her hair for hours while she lay with her head in my lap. She said she wanted a bath. So I carried her to the tub. Sat her in the cool water and watched as the skin of her hands dissolved away. She told me to put music on.
I can’t help but stare at her. She tells me all the world is green.

Useless woe

There's a gaggle of men upstairs in a sauna. They are passing a quickly ashing joint back and forth. And I'm here. Posting on blogger. Listening to subtle music in a cold office.

Useless woe.

No matter how optomistic I try to be about the evolution of my fellow human beings, I am faced with the stark reality that many of the people I dearly love are not only *not* evolving, but are in fact regressing.
They are returning to a place of fetal innocense and vapid patheticness. They are sinking into a sickness of the mind that manifests itself in self pity and doubt. The world owes them nothing. Like it owes me nothing in this moment. And yet they (we, me, all) expect it to open doors and arms to court and embrace them (we, me, all).

Useless woe.

It's been ten days since my shoulders ached. Yet they do now. I feel the familiar throb and welcome it strangely. It's alright in the end. It won't last forever. Much like melancholy and woe.

Useless woe.

The Ultimate showdown

Of Ultimate Destiny...

http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/285267

Nobody likes me

Everybody hates me

Guess I'll go eat some worms.

some self portraits

self portrait


self portrait with eyes in a bag around my neck


self portrait with Mr. Sinister


self portrait with no arms and stuff


self portrait cartoony

Firing Squad

Playbill art

Green Eggs and Ham: A Dramatic Reading

I wrote this when I was 15 for a talent show. Heh.

Z: Are you seriously telling me we’re gonna read Green Eggs and Ham?

A: Yep.

Z: Ah…C’mon. We’re standing out here like complete idiots…And we’re gonna read Dr. Seuss? I hate Green Eggs and Ham…Sam is my middle name and everyone used to make fun of me and quote this stupid book. I think I’m scarred for life…

A: Awe. That’s too bad. But c’mon, we have to do this. We’re out here in front of everyone.

Z: I don’t care…

A: Well… Would you read it over here?

Z: What? NO.

A: How ‘bout over there.

Z: What part of “no” do you not understand?
I will not read it here or there.
I will not read it anywhere.
I do not like Green Eggs and Ham, and don’t even mention that my middle name is Sam.

A: Would you, could you read half? Maybe even for a laugh?

Z: For Pete’s sake!
I would not, could not read half,
I would not, could not for a laugh.
I will not read it here or there.
I will not read it anywhere.
I do not like this stupid skit.
And I’m getting really tired of your…suggestions.

A: Oh. You wouldn’t do it for my cause? Not even for applause?

Z: What is this?
I will not even for your cause, or applause.
I will not read half for a laugh.
I will not read it here or there.
I will not read it anywhere.
I do not like this STUPID skit!
Don’t make me hit you, you little twit.

A: Why don’t you wear this nifty hat? You can dress up like a cat.

Z: I would not, could not wear that hat
I would not, could not be a cat.

A: Won’t you read it from the book? Try it, try it, take a look.

Z: I will not, will not take a look
I will not, will not from the book.
I would not wear this freakin’ hat
Nor would I dress up like a cat.
Not for your cause. Not for applause.
Not for a laugh. NOT EVEN HALF!
I will not read it here or there.
I will not read it anywhere.
I really hate this stupid skit.
And I’m starting to hate you just a little bit.

A: My dear friend, don’t get irate. We will do it. I will wait.

Z: I will not even if you wait a year.
Look, I’ve had it up to here!
Not from the book. Not with the hat.
I won’t be caught dead dressed up like a cat!
Not for your cause.
Not for applause.
Not for a laugh.
Not even half.
I will not read it here or there.
I will not read it anywhere.
I do not like this brainless skit.
I am so mad I could spit!

A: If you would not read with me. I’ll just read alone, you’ll see.

Z: Knock yourself out.

A: Green Eggs and Ham. (clears throat) I am Sam. Sam I am.... (stops and looks at Z)

Z: OHH NOO, I’m not going to fall for this dumb trick.

A: That Sam I am! That Sam I am! I do not like that Sam I am.

Z: Oh, oh so it’s guilt? You’re trying to guilt trip me! It’s not gonna work!
I will not do it out of guilt.
No matter what schemes you’ve gone and built!
I will not fall for that cheap trick
You’re stupid ploys make me sick!

A: What’s the matter, middle named Sam; you do not like Green Eggs and Ham?

Z: NO!!! I HATE GREEN EGGS AND HAM--I HATE THIS STUPID SKIT
IF IT WAS ANNIHILATED, I WOULDN’T GIVE A FLYING...poo…



A: Sit down right now. You’re far too tense
Sit down right here, let’s talk some sense.

You hate this book, or so you say,
Then why do you keep rhyming in this infernal way?

Z: (caught off guard--speechless) Okay, okay.
I’ll take a look and read from the book
I will do all, not half
Even if this crowd won’t laugh.
I’ll wear the hat,
And maybe be the cat.
I will do it for your cause.
Although I’m sure there’ll be no applause.
I will read it here or there
I will read it anywhere,
All this I will do excellently
If you from now on just leave me be!
But answer this before all is done
Did you put me through this just for fun?

A: It was partly for fun, I will admit
But someone did put me up to it.
I made a bet you’d go bonkers good and plenty,
For the grand sum of American dollars twenty.
And now I’ve won and it’s the end.
Wasn’t that great my darling friend?

Z: ARGHH! I still hate Green Eggs and Ham, and that my middle name is Sam.
But the thing I hate most of all,
Is that I’m still rhyming out of control…

The End…my friend…

pure abject depression

And photography!