My Reflection

in

this morning i woke up, opened the door, and looked in the mirror
and the man i saw looking back at me was different than i remember
he was a lot older
he seemed sad
he was dressed in blue
he had a large satchel flung around his shoulder
and his arm was protruding past the reflection plane
and he was slapping a handful of letters in my face
and he was saying:
"hey stupid... hey... hey man... take your mail... hey...
your box is full... take this... it's your mail... take it damn it...
there's no room in your box."

i refused his offer

"no way," i said, "i'm not gonna take that mail!
it's all just grocery store news and low finance rates!
there's not a single personal letter in there!"

with a smirk he held up a postcard

"you're not fooling me," I said, "that postcard was laser printed to
APPEAR as if it were hand written! look at who it's from! A DENTIST.
i don't know anybody named DENTIST."

angry and tired, he set the mail down on my stoop and
walked over to the next house

i have such a weird reflection

i need to wash that mirror

mailman.gif

The WORST Invention EVER made.

in

Three different couples I know just had kids.
All within the past three days.
I was going to order them this as a gift
but I found out it's from a 1953 Popular Mechanics
and not a 2008 Sears catalog.

I guess I'll just give them each a big wooden crate or something.
Might work just them same.
apartmentwindowcage.jpg "Enclosed in a wire cage suspended from an apartment window, English children play in the sunlight and fresh air while their mothers are busy with housework. The cage, made of wire netting, is strongly braced and is guarded on the apartment side by a cloth net which prevents children from crawling back into the room where they may attempt to destroy the home. Loaned by an infant welfare center to families with no gardens, the portable balcony is apparently popular with mothers and fathers with little patience. The demand exceeds the supply."
1953 Popular Mechanics

High Thread Count

in

I don't understand high thread count sheets.
Recently, I bought a luxurious high thread count sheet at Target
to see what it was all about.

I thought I was in for the RIDE OF A LIFETIME.

But it wasn't anything close to that.

It was just a stupid sheet.

And it's kind of stiff.

I thought high thread count sheets were supposed to be the softest
customers around.

Well, they're not.
They're not special AT ALL.
They're just expensive
and stiff.

I'm gonna stick to my cotton jersey sheets, washed weekly
in a gallon of fabric softener.

And I'll never vote for high thread count sheets again.

YOU HEAR ME HIGH THREAD COUNT SHEETS???
I'M SICK OF YOUR HIGH FALUTIN' WAYS!!
YOU'RE ALL TALK! ALL TALK AND NO ACTION!
YOU AND I ARE FINISHED!

lksdnjkngwelk;fne/r;f/

TO HYPER TO TYPE to tired to talk

i have not been able to think clearly lately.

or perhaps i've NEVER been able to think clearly
and i've just gotten lucky getting ANYTHING
done at all.

i feel like i'm trapped under a thin sheet of gauze,
in a room full of cotton balls.
i can see things in front of me, but not clearly.
i grab at masses but nothing is grounded.
there's nothing to hold onto.
when i breathe,
bits of fuzz fill my mouth.

even in the face of good fortune,
an open door,
i seem to keep banging on the wall
as if more doors may open.

what the fuck is wrong with me?

wait...

i know...

i'm in love
with a god damn ghost.


ghost_on_stairs_lg.jpg

after the fall

in

she cut her tooth on the counter
when she slipped on a wet spot
and sent everything
she held dear
into flight.

and for a brief moment,
she could actually see
the days spin down
like whirly birds.

right there in front of her.

a thousand twisted memories

covering her tracks.

my goodness they passed so quickly.
violently, even.

like icy wind.

and it was during this time
that she watched
her friends
come and go.

even her best friends.

disappeared in front of her.

and
as
the
days
spun
d
o
w
n

faster and faster and faster

she began to change
into

someone unrecognizable
to herself.

D for JK.

in

Received a call from the field producers of the Jimmy Kimmel Show today.
They asked if I'd be interested in directing for them during the month of May.

It's kind of weird.
I'd be making things for a national, mainstream audience,
which is something I've never done before,
or had any interest in doing for that matter.

I've been living in my own head for so long
and making things by instinct with total creative freedom,
it's hard for me to imagine what this might be like.

They said I'd have to join the Director's Guild and pay my dues
and I'll have to travel back to sweaty Los Angeles for a bit.

I guess if it all pans out,
it'll be a learning experience one way or the other.

Who knows?
Life is so fucking nuts.
One minute I feel like I'm face down in the gutter,
and the next,
I'm being invited to work in a shiny, polished gutter for money.

Hopefully, I can at least pet some of the weird, sewer alligators!!

(I mean... cough... celebrities)

cannot sleep tonight.

in

I can't sleep tonight.
It feels like there's something burning in my eyes.
Or maybe it's in the back of my mind?

Once again, I don't know who I am tonight.
I tell ya, if my childhood spirit were to see me now,
he probably wouldn't know either.

I've been driving and walking for hours now.
Down by the bridges.
Down near the south part of town.
Stopping by the house just to sit down for a minute,
and then get up
and do it all over again.

I'll probably drive all night tonight.

Too restless to sit still.
Too crazy to be moving for too long.

I do like the night.
I used to be scared of it as a kid.
But I've grown to love its peaceful smother.

I like squinting and watching the street lights pass.
Feels like I'm flying through space,
passing through blurry
smears of stars.

Being alone like this,
forces you to find love in the strangest places.
In the cracks.
In the puddles.
In the memories.

In the details.

You make do with what you got.
And do whatever it takes to survive.
Even if it means,
soaking in the streetlights,
and loving the lonely side of life.

this week

i wake up
and a flash of sadness slides across the surface.

like kerosene
eyedrops.

gasoline ribbons
snake slowly across my eyes.

their metallic shimmer
stings and cuts
with every blink.

i am in pain today.

remedies lie scattered
on the shelves and the floor.

i reach a hand inward
but find nothing there.

nothing but
an empty ribcage,
and the reminits of a vacant storm,
long since passed.

tattered feathers of crushed angels
and fibers of dust, hover in the light,
blown in from only God knows where.

cracked fence boards and
brittle wood held together
by gravity alone.

i can feel the nothingness in my fingers.
i can feel it.
inside me.

it is light.

like warm sand.

like youthful fingers stirring
summer air.

it is familiar and welcoming.

and it knows my name
all too well.

once again, i find myself fighting to remember,
this affliction
is not my home.

please,
this is not my home.

I'll trade security for freedom and unusual life experiences, any day!

"The first 90 years go by pretty fast... then one day.. you wake up and you realize that you're not 81 anymore... and then you begin to count the minutes instead of the days... and you realize that pretty soon you'll be gone... FOREVER... and that ALL YOU HAVE ARE THE EXPERIENCES. That's IT JOHNNY! Don't you see? THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO EVERYTHING!
THE EXPERIENCES!"

-Burgess Meredith in "Grumpy Old Men"

How to Avoid a Potentially Dangerous Situation - Almost Robbed

in

The other night, while driving back from a pancake house with Dustin and Mitch, I encountered a potentially dangerous situation. It was around 3 AM and we were in Dustin's brother's truck (a GIANT Dodge RAM, complete with a lift kit and 36" tires). We had just pulled into a residential neighborhood when a strange truck aggressively pulled up behind us and began honking. Thinking there might be something wrong with our truck, we stopped and cracked the window. Like lightning, a shady guy came shuffling towards us with his hands buried deep in his pockets. His voice was quiet and his eyes were cold. At first he seemed to approach us with intent, but upon discovering 3 of us in the truck, he soon backed off and began to rant on about how he "lives in Guthrie" and is "working construction on his dad's house" and needed "gas money to get home". Throughout the story his right hand stayed buried in his pocket.

Now... the good part.

Dustin couldn't really see the guy because our truck was so tall. Also, he couldn't move much because he was wearing a life-size BEAR SUIT from shooting a scene in our latest film at the pancake house. Mitch was also in costume, wearing REALLY BIG EYEBROWS and a weird FAKE MOUSTACHE.

Due to the time of night, the stranger's aggressive driving maneuvers, and the bizarre disposition of his character, had there only been one of us in the truck, we believe this guy's intention was to mug the driver. HOWEVER, when he finally got a look at the cargo... which looked a lot like THIS:

bear.jpg mitch.jpg
our little mystery man quickly changed his strategy to BEGGING for money
instead of TAKING IT.

I wish Mitch would've spoken in a serious, baritone voice and said:
"Hey there Buddy. Wanna join the party?"

I only wish I knew what that guy was thinking when he drove away.

missing the u

i miss you.

i wish you were sitting on the porch next to me,
knitting,
reading,
singing,
drinking,
or even staring at nothing.

i wish you were in my passenger seat,
shoulder to shoulder,
telling me that
"i'm going the wrong way"
or to
"drive into the ravine".

i wish
you were throwing things at me
or
tugging at my sleeve.

and i wish that we were writing
together,
painting the wall to match the wood grain,
and making things

that

matter.

making things.

that are ridiculous.

together

i wish i had
access to your mind.
every now and then

and a window
to watch it work

no matter how reckless
and
destructive you deem it.

sigh

I suppose,
above all,
I just miss YOU.

i love you, friend.

this.jpg

Everyone's Working Construction

Sometimes there are days when I watch it fall a part.
And sometimes there are days when I find pieces
behind the door,
that I didn't even know were missing.

Working overtime.

Building something.
Building nothing.

I tell ya...
sometimes I find myself
not only wanting help,
but really NEEDING it.

But most times you reach for that red phone,
it ain't even plugged in.

And you have to accept that help might never come. 

And that there's nothing you can do about it.

And that the only options are to
curl up and die
or pick yourself up...

and keep hammering away at the void.

Well, keep hammering away my friend.
There's not a minute to spare.

 

 

 

Grab the nails, kids.
Storm's a brewin'.

2006-04-05T18_36_02-07_00.jpg 

 

 

 

Today's To Do List

in

Today, I rented both a grizzly bear costume and a
private wedding chapel.

I played a little music,
ate some grapes,
and did the dishes.

I also mailed some letters,
placed a black tarp over my future garden,
drank tea,
and played a little more music.

And thanks to that pleasant, bubblegum flavored circle,
I spent some time reminiscing Chewels,
877645843_2d54c203e8.jpg

Tidal Wave,
878493952_a71b31cc28.jpg

and Pillsbury Food Sticks. Ahhhh. Pillsbury Food Sticks. Such Memories.
891353636_b4bfd71393.jpg

Wait a second... I don't remember Pillsbury Foodsticks. FOOD STICKS?
I didn't eat Pillsbury Food Sticks. I don't even know what they are.

Food Sticks? What's a food stick? And what are the ingredients?
Let's check...

foodsticks.jpg

Hmmm. Sounds pretty good.