Fresh and new...and the same.

October 10, 2004

Son of Bad Poetry

Sort of a disclaimer: Bad Poetry, as I so accurately have dubbed this occasional portion of this page, is always either intentionally bad or written while drunk. Everything you'll read here is authentically bad, and should not be viewed as anything else. I hope you enjoy my latest entries into the foray of poetry. They are bad and I do know that, but the occassional nuggets of truth and wisdom remain intact.

Childe Todd to the Dark Tower Stumbled
The sky is dark and blank
my head feels like so many fish in a bowl
swimming in circles too short and choked
The man in black is there in the distance
He beckons me to follow
To fall before him
I'm powerless to heed his call
The Tower is waiting
All dead
All death
the tower is death
for all
he built this world upon sand to be torn away
in waves as slow as life
shaving away the layers till old you fall and give way
is this world an extension of hell
too sweet to be mistaken for evil
We wait to go home
The tower waits

Devil Grass
The candle that burns
both ends simultaneous
death and life blend to make our existence more grand
There are other worlds than these
we have no control over our passing
each day is perfect
we fall we rejoice
our expectations mean nothing
We are here now and nothing else is relevant
The right and left wing are attached to the same bird
we all live in the same world
No one is right nor wrong
no religion is sane
no religion is false
God is there like it or not
It knows our every action before it occurs
can God make a burrito too big for god to eat?
and no
both are true
infallibility is wacky like that
god is capable of everything and nothing at the same fucking time
deal with it
It will kill you in the end
it's for the best
you will pass, but remain forever in the land of shadow and eternity

He's fat
and a plumber
he used to scoop shit out of peoples' drains
but he got a new job
in the mushroom kingdom
He breaks blocks with his fist
He kicks a big dragon's ass every day
He can swim and turn into a raccoon.
Mario is the greatest fat Italian to ever live
But he's really Japanese
just don't tell anyone
It's too weird.

October 01, 2004

A Brief Intermission

So it's been awhilwe. I've been busy reading, living and playing Mario 64 (one of the best games ever). It's difficult to keep a regular entry going, so I'll just drop in from time to time with either a story or a questionably humorous rant. I'm working on this drawing project now that's going to look pretty neat when I manage to get it done. The picture is a collage I made, which I am now drawing on huge 18" by 24" paper. It'll have a shaded pencil background of a desert with this giant skull, on top of this I'm using wet media acetate ( which is just this thin layer of clear filmy plastic) to draw 20 some odd cartoon characters onto the scenery, which will then need to be painted. It's the biggest project I've ever done, but if I make it right, it'll be my best.

Everything's aokay at the homestead. The kid's fine, Cassie's sick but still fi-ine. I guess I'm fine too, so you can sleep easy tonight.

The Dark Tower: The Dark Tower VII by Stephen King Is now out. I'm on book IV right now, but it's reassuing that the rest of the story is out there for me.

Paper Mario: The 1000 Years Door is coming out soon on Gamecube. I must have this game. If anyone owes me a favor, here it is.

Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith
This is the name of the next Star Wars flick, marvel at its wonder.

see ya