Category Archives: Art

Why Are You Crying?

Oh look, a butterfly. Continue reading Why Are You Crying?

Pity, Dreadful.

As a working stiff it’s vital that I have at least one mindless television show to escape into after a long, hard day. Someone mentions Penny Dreadful and so I give it a try. It’s a Showtime creation and labeled as British-American, whatever that means. I watched more HBO as a kid and remember only tuning into SHO after 11pm when things like The Red Shoe Diaries aired. Even then, I liked Real Sex more. The violence and sex of today’s Showtime seems less seedy, almost antiseptic, compared to the things I saw in the 90s.As if the prudes said, “Well if you’re going to show it, at least make it clean.” Continue reading Pity, Dreadful.

Current Affairs

I’ve grown so much so fast I have stretch marks on my brain. I’m where I want to be. I’m a person that doesn’t talk to my family or check in on birthdays. Gift giving and family vacations have become so lopsided it feels like charity and I don’t actively participate in that either. I can’t afford to visit my hometown and even if I did, I’d only tell certain people I’m traveling. My chosen family loves that I exist while my blood relatives seem to generally disapprove. I’m pretty sure someone I share DNA with voted for Trump and I’m afraid to ask who it is. I’ve been sheltered in a completely new way since moving to Seattle. Continue reading Current Affairs

Nuttin

Stuck between two regulars that have accepted their fate, I’m depressed. I can feel the spot on the left side of my temple where I want to push the barrel in deep. I can feel the other side of my skull exploding outward, making such a mess. I don’t want to leave anything for people to clean up. I’m not inconsiderate, just hopeless. My own parents have disowned me. My sisters pity me. Friends pretend to support me until I actually need help. The warm sting of my presence is a good reminder of how bad it could be. The threat of my absence slowly gains appeal. Continue reading Nuttin

The New Godzilla

If I hear anyone talk about seeing a new Godzilla movie, I immediately lose respect. Nothing about any Godzilla movie is ever new. It’s all the same terrorific drama in a different sequence. I believed the tiny Japanese scientists just as much as Matthew Broderick. The most innovative thing a Godzilla movie ever did was battle Mothra. Or something. I’m not sure if I’m jealous of their ignorance or bliss. Continue reading The New Godzilla

This Guy

Keeps making me think something great will happen. Sexually frustrated and emotionally unfulfilled, it’s like a bad parody of my marriage. Except this guy is a bigger asshole. I’m just waiting for him to find some girl’s ass to crawl up. Then I’ll be alone for all these plans we’re making. He doesn’t know he’s doing it. His genuine naivety would be adorable if it wasn’t so tired. Every person he meets thinks he’s charming. Every girl he eyes sees through it and that doesn’t stop them from enjoying the attention. Continue reading This Guy

Goin’ Down West

I had two dates in the past week. Both went down on me before it was over. Both used an approach that not only disappoints but is almost uncomfortable. Imagine someone trying to kiss you without using lips. Now add a vigorous side-to-side motion that resembles blowing raspberries on a belly. Initially innocuous, the resulting effect is me pushing away from the sensation. If given the opportunity I offer instructions but, for the most part, I strongly encourage hand stuff. I know how to get off and it usually doesn’t require saliva. I know I taste good. That’s no reason to forget your manners. Continue reading Goin’ Down West

Tweet-a-lee-dee

I stopped reading Facebook about a week ago. Instead I let people at the local bar update me on the news. Ironically, I’m still on Twitter where no one ever mentions Trump’s tweets. It must be the eye of the storm or something. Can’t possibly be that Facebook is the main engine fueling the hype in modern media. That would be crazy talk. Then again, that’s my Native American honorific – Crazy Talk. Seriously. I was inducted into a tribe during one particularly expansive mescaline-induced spirit quest. It involved lots of menthol and Clint Mansell.

Horizon

Smokestacks spewing immobile
Busy port frozen in perpetuity
Nothing on the horizon moves
While you are watching
Forever crawling skyward
Razor-toothed skyline
Sizeable conifers grinning
Bigger than a bus, you think?
Ferryboats slice through the scene
Lumbering between lands