Certificate of Award

     Here is an award I gave myself, 'In Recognition of Outstanding Service for Slackerism, Coffee Drinking, and Certain Activities Related to Art'.

The Dungeon

     Dakthar stood outside the tomb.
     He wondered if he wanted to go in, I mean, really wanted to go in.
     He had prepared for a month to get ready for this dungeon.
     Yes, there was a dungeon right inside this tomb.  He had the key in his hand.  All he had to do was to put the key into the door, open the door, and walk in.  He knew there were stairs going down inside.  He also knew there was wealth to be gotten.  Gold pieces.  Magic items.  Other things that he could only find if he would open the door.
     "No rush," he thought to himself.  "I can always turn back now.  I don't have to do this.  I can go back into town.  I can sit in the bar, and have a pint.  I can go chase a skirt.  I don't have to be standing outside the most terrible and evil dungeon I've ever encountered."
     He was here a week ago, with the key.  It was the first time he had ever seen the tomb.  He wanted to come visit before he went in, and vibe it out, so to speak.  He wanted to get the feel for it, and then sit around for a week to see what thoughts would come to his head.
     But night after night, the thoughts of the tomb, and what was to be found down there haunted him.
     The reason for the delay?  The possibility of death.
     He had to do this alone.  There was no one he could trust.
     He could find someone to accompany him.  Maybe that would be a good idea.  He wasn't sure.  He was confused.  He wanted to do this by himself, to prove that he could do it.  Anyone else would just get in the way.  If he needed help, there would be no one.  That was the trouble with his plan.  It was a great risk.
     It wasn't a matter of dividing up the treasure.  He had no trouble at all sharing the spoils.
     This tomb was different.
     Were their undead in this tomb?  He did not know.
     This was an exploratory mission.  He didn't want anybody else involved.  If need be, he could always get someone to help him.
     He wanted to see how far he could go without help.
     At the first sign of trouble, he could always find his way back.
     This was a very large dungeon.  He could get lost.
     The first few levels would be easy.  This dungeon got increasingly more difficult, though.  That's what he had heard.
     This dungeon was no easy matter.
     Some have returned from this dungeon, others have not, even those with extraordinary skill.
     He did not know what made him different that he would survive.  He was going to depend on his stamina and his will to see it through no matter what.
     Yes, he was scared.  He was frightened all to hell.
     He did not know what to expect.  He had a map that he had been studying.  He committed as much of it as he could to memory.  It was only a basic map, though.  There were many parts missing.
     He did not know if he could go through with it, so he sat down, and lit his pipe.  It might be a while before he could enjoy his pipe again.
     As he sat smoking, he looked at the door.  It just stood there.  He didn't feel that it was pushing him away, he didn't feel that it was drawing him to the door.  It was just there.  Standing.
     He could see the lock.
     He could feel the key around his neck, underneath his shirt.
     He could feel the sweat on himself.
     He was fully armored and ready to go.
     There was nothing to stop him from walking over to the door, putting the key in, turning the key, and venturing inside.  Nothing.  Except, perhaps, himself.  That was a lot to contend with.  There were things to think about.
     He wondered how long he would sit there and think, and where that would get him.
     He knew there were creatures down there, viscious, nasty, flesh-eating creatures.  That was the problem.
     This might be his last night alive.  That was part of his problem.
     "Death would not do me any good, " he mumbled to himself as he took an inhale from his pipe, slowly exhaling.
     "Yet, there is the door.  It awaits.  It stands there, looking at me somewhat.  Does it want me to open it?  I'm not sure."
     He knew eventually he would say, "Fuck it, I am going in!" as was his way of doing.  He was no stranger to dungeons.
     This was all part of his pre-dungeon ritual.  It took a while for him to get warmed up, but once he got going, watch out.
     He had dwarven rage going for him, which he tapped into when his anger kicked in.  He was not one to be messed with.  It was not advisable on a dark, partially lit street in the city.  A couple of people recently had found that out.
     "I could turn back now, but what would be the point of coming here?"
     He was getting close to swearing himself into convincing his mind that he needed to go in.
     "Aw, fuck, I'll do it.  I can't stand all this sitting around.  Goddammit to hell.  I'll fucking do it.  No I won't.  I'll just go home, and fucking be done with it...but wait..is there any reason why I shouldn't go in?  No.  What is death?  Is there a reason to go in?  Yes.  There is loot.  Is there risk involved?  Yes, a hell of a lot.  What are my chances of survival?  Moderate.  Could go either way."
     More of this discussion continued.  In fact, he had been sitting outside the tomb since early evening.  It was dark.  He had been here for three hours.  He had a nice meal, a nice smoke.  Everything was ready.  He always took his time with these things.  No need to rush in, unprepared of mind.  He was ready to go in.  Anything else to think about?  No.
     So with a deep breath, he stood up, pulled out the fucking key, and put it in the lock.
     "Last chance to go home, and forget this nonsense........Nope, I'm going in, holy shit...and with that he laughed...."
     He tried to turn the key.  It wouldn't work...then it clicked, and it did work.
     "Holy shit...okay, the door is open.  No turning back...fuck, I can close the door and go back...no problem...aw, fuck it, I'm sick of this shit....I'm going in.
     So he went inside the tomb, and closed the door so that none would follow.  He didn't need of those 'dungeon followers'...those bastards who followed a half-hour behind while you did all the work of clearing the dungeon, then they try and kill you at the end and take all the loot for themselves.  No, he didn't need any of that bullshit.
     Okay, he was in.  The door was locked.  He was in a room.

      He could see the coffin.  He walked around near the top, and there were the stairs descending down.  This tomb was all man-sized.  It wouldn't be hard for him to navigate.
     He just stood there for a moment.  He breathed in and out.  He then took a big smell of the air.
     "It smells like death."
     With that, he drew out his one-handed axe, took the shield off of his back and put it on his left arm, and started to walk down the fucking stairs.
     He was a dwarf, and he knew there was going to be a lot of swearing coming up ahead, and hopefully a lot of fucking hashing and slashing.
     This was no children's dungeon he was going into, it was the real deal.  No pussy ass bullshit here.  He was going in.
      So he took the first step down the stairs, paused for a second to see if he could hear anything, and then walked down the stairs.
     He had done it, he had entered the dungeon.
     The first part was out of the way.
      Deciding to do it was the hardest part.
     Now all he had to do was to kick some fucking ass.
     He was ready.
     His axe was starting to get thirsty for blood, or what ever these things would bleed.
     He didn't know what things would be down here.
     Could he even fucking see?  Well, we will get to that.  He had a glow from his axe, shield, and helmet which were unified by a sorcerer, so he could see in The Dungeon.

     So he just walked down a flight of stairs.....the stone work was old, or human construction.
     "Fucking boring stone work," he thought to himself.
     But he had other matters at hand.
     "Fuck!  A skeleton!"
     With one swipe, he sliced through its spine, and the fragments lay on the ground.
     Then he looked at the room he was in.
     Nothing special, just a room.  More boring stone work.  It was a 10' x 10' standard room, the kind you see in every dungeon.  There was an archway ahead across from him.
     He was just getting warmed up.

That was fun.

     A substitute yoga teacher.  Blonde.  Bangs.   Wearing a pink bra.  Nice.  Cute.  Cordial.  Relaxed.
     I'm just not crazy about standard hatha flow classes.  I've done a lot of them, and I get bored.  It's the same old thing.  Yes, you can find new things about it every time, but from my point of view, at this point, so what?  In any case, I'm a better person for having gone to class.  I feel all cleaned and gutted out.  My muscles on my legs are simmering.  It makes you feel alive.
     I have an idea for a blog entry.  Maybe this idea can be it's own blog.  That might be fun.  I've been wanting to write this for years.  Maybe I should start it on this blog, and see what happens.  I really want to do it.  I don't know what I am waiting for.  I just want to do my daily writing first.
     I like to write.  I most certainly do.  To write a cohesive story would be amazing.  I don't know if I do that, though.  I don't know what I do with the writing.  I'm an artist, I do what I do.  I don't care one way or another.  Yes, I do.  No, I don't.  You know.  I don't know.  Okay.  Whatever. 
     I don't like when people say 'whatever' to complete a thought.  I consider it kind of a cop-out.
     Okay...uh....well.......uh......now what?
     I'm supposed to be painting today.  I will.  I've been thinking about it all morning.  It is almost 2:00 p.m.  I have plenty of time to get going with it all.
     I would love to be a paid writer, and get pay checks in the mail.
     I don't want to work at the ball park anymore.  I will if I have to, but I really don't want to.  I wish I could get something going on before that.
     I qualify for financial aid at the YMCA.  My income per year is poverty level.  Now I just have to prove it, and that isn't easy.  If I can complete the forms, and get approved, I can get a 50% discount.
     The YMCA is an 'NPO'...a non-profit organization.  They bring in the bucks, and then I suppose it all gets pumped back into their programs.
     I have a program that needs funding.  I need nude, female models for my paintings.  I also need the space to do it in.  I got to get that going on.  That would be great.
     I just want to be an artist.  A working artist.  Someone who gets paid for their work.  That would be nice.
     Yeah, I'm really not too excited about the poverty thing anymore.  It's not really fun at all.  I don't know how many stupid jobs I have to work before the idea gets into my head that there has to be another way.
     I need to produce something that people will buy.
     I tell you, it sure is a lot more fun to have money laying around after someone just bought a painting.
     Taxes?  I have no problem paying taxes.  This is America.  It is what you are supposed to do.  Wesley Snipes is going to find out the hard way what it means when you don't pay taxes.  Three years in jail, man.  That sucks.
     Food and painting is all I have to worry about for the rest of the day.  Okay, that sounds good.
     Wow, it is going to be a new year.  I already have my plan.  Stay inside with a bottle of beer.  I will avoid the madness that is out there.  Maybe I will go for a walk and look at people, that is about it.  I have more than enough to keep me busy.
     The pan-handler outside of 7-11 didn't refer to me as a 'motherfucker' today.  That was nice of him.  I don't like that guy.  He watches all the customers, and how much money they have.  I don't like that intrusion.  All he does is stand there with a cup, smokes cigarettes, and rattles his cup, with a shit-eating grin on his face.  By the look of his new clothes, it seems to me he is doing pretty good.  Getting paid for doing nothing basically.  He has a smoke break every twenty minutes.
     I need a job.  I need an income.
     That was really nice watching Kurt Vonnegut footage last night.  I've never been able to see him talk before.  It was great.  I've enjoyed his books.  I haven't read one of his in quite a while.  Though he rated it a 'C', I enjoyed 'Breakfast of Champions'.  That book kind of hit me to the core of what a book could be.  I liked the drawings.  The little simple drawings had an effect on me.  I generally like author's drawings in their books.  It provides a visual break from the words.  Life is about more than just words.
     Anyway, there was a cute girl in class.  An Indian girl.  I tried not to look at her too much.  Nothing to see anyway.  Just makes it easy on the eyes when the pain of the exercises begins to hit.  Gives your brain something to do to avoid the discomfort of exercising.
     After two and a half years of yoga, I still don't like to exercise much.  I just do it so I can do the things I want to do all day long.
     I don't like the yoga classes that completely wipe you out afterward.  Today was a medium class, I'll be able to do stuff.  There have been times where it completely wipes me out so I have to lay down when I get home.  Other times, I get ravenously hungry.  It depends on the class.
     I'm ready to paint and do stuff.  That sounds good.
     I tell you, it is a lot easier to conceive of an art piece in my mind than it is to actually realize it and make it happen so that it actually exists.  It never comes out the way you think it will.  Sometimes it is better than you imagine, but most of the time it is worse.  Then I have to keep working and working until I get it the way I want.  Then, I never know if others will like it, much less if they will shell out some bucks to make a purchase.  It is a tough game.
     Anyway, I will see what happens.  Nothing else to do, but go to the bathroom....damn....always happens right when I want to get started with my work.  All I can do is laugh.  What else is there to do?
     But yeah, I really want to paint some naked people.  Maybe I will today.  Maybe I will paint some clothed ones, too.
     I'm not interested in painting guys all that much.  No one wants to see a guy in a painting, unless it is a famous guy, I guess.
     Okay, I guess I had better get to work.
     Also, I will be thinking about my next blog entry.
     :)

I had a nice time at the coffee shop.

     They played X, Violent Femmes, and The Velvet Underground, so I was happy.
     It was cold outside, but I sat there for a while anyhow.
     I drew my girls walking by.  They are a delight.  I try and draw them in motion.  San Francisco is such a great walking city.  Plus it is a nice fashion show.
     The hardest thing is to draw girls on bikes.  They whiz by so fast, so I have about four seconds to take a mental snapshot and try and get the gist.  No point with the camera, you never know when the bicycles will come by.
     I saw my new friend.  She is nice.  I like her smile.  I asked her what her name was today.  She told me.  I would love to draw her portrait.
     I like having long hair again.  I feel more like myself.
     I am still recovering from the cold.
     Time for yoga instead of writing blog entries.
     I am amazed that I've gotten 800 hits on this thing.  I don't know what it means, if it is real people, or automated, or what.  I don't know who is clicking on my blog besides me.  I certainly wonder at who would actually read it.  I can barely make myself read my own work.
     Time to go.  Just how it is.  I have a great teacher, and I don't want to miss that.  She is very literate.  It is like taking an English class, except that it is physical exercise.
     Brrrrr...my fingers are still cold from sitting outside.
     Yes, it really is time to go.
     I have the rest of the day to paint.
     Bye for now.
     Sometimes it takes a while to say good-bye.  I know people where saying good-bye ends up being a third of the conversation....haha.

I just woke up.

     What do I know?  Not a whole lot.
     I slept well enough.  It was a good sleep.
     I would sleep a lot longer if I didn't have to pee.  That's the only thing that wakes me up in the first place.
     Dreams are what tells me what my reality is.
     I often will lay down in the middle of the day just to see what happens in my mind.  It is like pushing the reset button.  The thoughts are like sediment.  The water flows down, the matter settles, like in erosion.
     It takes a lot of creativity to be alive in this world.  Forget the creativity required to be an artist.  That is kind of irrelevant.
     I want to get to the coffee shop.
     I want to do a lot of things.
     That was fun talking to my brother last night.  He's the one I like.  I like them all, but most of them are into their own thing, so it isn't so much fun for me at times, since I am into my own thing.  Plus, I don't always have the time to be a practicing therapist.
     I want to paint right now.
     I want to get dressed.
     A conflict of interest often occurs.
     Is it important to mention that I am completely naked while writing this?  No.  Then why mention it?  Just a part of the writing process, I guess.
     It's important to mention everything.
     Writing is like being naked, especially when someone reads what you write.  You are exposed.  So being naked while writing this, or the text...which is more naked?  Usually, the text is.
     I've done a lot of dream analysis and remembering of my own dreams.  A lot of it is disjointed crap that makes no sense, so I don't worry anymore on whether or not I can remember my own dreams.  Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.  Some are worth remembering, some dreams are better left to be reabsorbed.  They come out in other ways through out the day.
     I am glad I bought my frames yesterday.
     I still need wire.
     I need nails.
 
     I just used the bathroom.  The only point in mentioning that is that ideas usually come from that process.  New thoughts come into my mind, or a new way of looking at things.  Otherwise, the bathroom is a tedious chore.  It gets in the way.

     Anyway, it is time for coffee.  This is all I have to offer the world right now.  Sorry about that.  It's the best I can do.
     I just want to get to the coffee shop, and hang out with the guy who calls me 'Tom'.  Haha, I haven't bothered to tell him my real name.  Also, there are the cuties that walk by on their way to work, and I don't want to miss that.

The Official Holy Blog

     The title is the first thing that came to mind when I came to this site.  It just appeared in my mind like on a movie screen.  It was funny enough to me, so I said, "What the hell.  Good a title as any.  Plus, I can pretend for a moment that what I write matters to anyone."
     Well, I do have an answer for who this blog matters to.....me.  Writers write for themselves, and if anybody else likes it, then it is a plus.
     There is always the delete button, so if I don't like this entry, I can always jettison it into the recycle bin of computer inner space where all unwanted blogs drift around forever in limbo.
     Anyway, it was a good day.  No complaints.  I bought frames for my art show, I had a good yoga class, I ate chicken noodle soup with crackers, I drank coffee...what more do I want?  Not much more.  A couple of things, but not much more.
     I am starting to get tired of the poverty thing.  There's got to be a way to remedy that.  I'll find a way eventually.  It just takes time.  It is like a game.  Just keep playing until you win.
     I played little league for eight years, and four of those years my team took last place....hahahahaha.  It is funny now, it wasn't at the time, but I never gave up.
     I used to love to play ball.
     I wish I had written more when I was growing up.   Oh well.  No big deal.  I wish I had done a lot of things. 
     It is never too late to live, you know.
     I got to watch videos of Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, and Kurt Vonnegut....wow.  To have the material of these great authors so readily available on youtube is stunning to me.  It is just great, and very instructive to me, besides being great entertainment. 
     Actors get a platform to talk, writers not as often. 
     I find that actors don't have much to say.  Their job is to say other people's lines, not their own.
     I like actors, though.  I admire many of them.
     But when I want to hear someone who has some balls to say something, give me a writer...someone who has thought about things.
     I also managed to buy three jars of paint.  Red, Black, and White...Philip Guston colors.  I have plans.  I'm going to have some fun if I can. 
     I want to lay down, I've been awake all day.
     I haven't even begun to paint.  Well, I have....I painted for half the day....what I am trying to say is I have barely started the day's work...I expect more out of myself.
     I spent time talking to siblings, and that was mostly pleasurable.  Doing that is a necessity.  Painting can wait...but not for too long.  The Queen of Painting doesn't like to wait.  When she wants it, she wants it now....otherwise, things can get cold, if you know what I mean.  It can take a while to warm up that oven again, especially in the dead of winter.
     Well, I don't know if this blog is 'holy', but it certainly is 'official'....haha.
     Any editor to come along can help polish my work up.  It's no big deal.  Celebrities write books all the time, I think the ghost writer just tape records them and then transcribes the tapes.  The celebrity is then given credit for writing the book.
     William Shatner does a lot of his own writing, so good for him.  That is why he is 'The Captain'.
     Uh...let's see...what else is there?
     I just like what Stephen King says, and that is, "To be a writer, you have to read a lot, and you have to write a lot."  I like that.  To the point, and no bullshit.  No pretending that it isn't a lot of work.  Some may want the book sales, or some fame, or movie deals or what have you...but writing is work, and it is hard.  It isn't easy at all.  There are lots of false starts.  Lots of dead ends.  But it is beautiful when something good does get churned out.
     I never know if what I write is any good until later, when I have some perspective.  Same goes with my painting.  Things can always wait a week until you get some fresh eyes.
     I'm going to lay down, and maybe read a book.
     :)
     Laterz.  ( Ugh...this new spelling is for the birds...but the kids these days like it. )

I paid a bill. No one cares, but it is the first thing that came to mind.

     I'm lucky I had money to pay a bill.  I still owe Sprint a chunk of change.  Okay, I owe them $200.  Ouch.  I guess I had better get painting.
     I took care of one thing.  I bypassed the art store.  Maybe tomorrow for that.  I really need some more paint.   I considered myself lucky to be able to take care of that one thing, though, the bill is out of the way for a while.  It hangs heavy on my heart and mind if I don't pay it, in addition to guilt.
     I drew people while I was on the train, and in the station.  That is always fun.  I can't get people to sit still, though.
     I need to draw a woman right now.  I'm going to try and draw from the computer tonight.  Have to.  I can't make art without drawing women.  I used to take figure drawing class once a week, but now I don't even do that.  I would like to do it again.  I'll have to figure it out eventually what I am going to do.
     I would just assume make porn paintings, but people don't like that.  I don't see why not.  Millions of people watch porn.  I guess it is not appropriate for a coffee shop art show.  haha.
     I joined a BDSM social networking site just to see what would happen.  Lots of people are into it, more than you would think.  They just want to be open about it in a trusting atmosphere.  Nothing wrong with that.  I'm interested in it.  I'm interested in people.  I would love to make art based on that stuff.  Sounds like fun, which is all it is.
     I just want some fun and adventure.  No harm in that.
     I want to change my life.  Right now.  Okay, it is changed.  I am a new person now.  It is as easy as that.  Just making a decision is the hardest part.
     I just want to be a famous artist, and make art, and have everything I need to do it. 
     Okay.  That is a good, first step.
     I went to school for art.  I still need to pay off my student loan.  The only way to pay off that chunk of change is to make lots of art, and sell it for high prices.  That sounds good.  I would like to do that.  Fuck the world.  I can do it.  I'll do what ever it takes, even if I have to sell my soul, but I don't think that will be required.  It is just business, baby, all it is.
    

     It is a fucked up world.  It is amazing what I am finding on the web tonight.  Everybody does stuff.

What to do?

     I don't know.  Get out of here, go to the gym, do some drawing, do something different.  I need to buy some paint.  I need some red paint.
     What else do I have to do?  I don't know.
     Lunch?
     How about a naked lunch?
     That sounds good.
     Or a webcam call where some girl wants to show me her breasts and everything else.  That would be fun.  I'm going to have to find some girls who want to make webcam calls.
     davidlovins67@gmail.com.
     It doesn't hurt to try.
     I just want to have fun.
     You never know what girl will want to have a webcam call.  It is safer than meeting me in person, haha.
     It would make my day, if some girl called me, and took off her shirt during the webcam call.  I would like that.
     So if any girl is bored, just give me a call.
     We could have a couple of beers, too.

I'm getting hits from all around the world on this blog.

     A friend told me it is probably automated...haha.  Computers just do checks, so it is doubtful anyone reads what I write here.  It doesn't matter to me.  Yes it does.  No it doesn't.  It would be really cool if people were into what I do, but I can't count on it.  I can't count on nothing in this world.
     I'm into listening to Howard and Robin on youtube.  That's what I listen to.  I can't find a blog that I like.  Someday.  I got plenty of books to read in my studio anyhow.  I had a fantasy of finding a blog that I would enjoy reading, just haven't found one yet.
     The alternate title to this entry was 'I'm sluffing yoga'.  I didn't feel like making the noontime class.  It would have been nice.  I wanted to do some painting, though, which I did.  It is important that I keep painting, and to not miss a day.
     Dang, I should have taken my friend's drunken drawings that he did last night.  Now they are gone forever, probably in the trash.  Sucks.  I should have taken them.  A lot of them were portraits of me that I could have inked and colored this morning.  I figured I had enough stuff in my studio, but I was really wanting to color them in this morning.  Damn.  I blew it.  I really regret not taking those drawings.  Damn.
     Anyway, life goes on, or does it?  I don't know.  Things go on different roads.
     I'm just sitting here doing nothing.  Smoking and drinking coffee.
     I like being a writer.  It is fun.  Maybe I'll write something decent, too.  Who knows?  I  certainly don't.
     I like to work out my thoughts here on the blog.  It is how I think.  It is how I work.  Everything is in progress, and nothing gets done.  It is how I like it.  Really?  I don't know. 
     But seriously, I am thinking about lots of stuff.  What will be my next video?  What will be my next real blog entry?  What will be my next piece of art?  How will I pay the bills?
     I need a shower and a shave so I don't look like a bum.
     I have bills to pay.
     I need a job.
     I need a t.v. show so I can make money and do what I want.
     It's America, anybody can do anything they want, so I don't know what I am waiting for.
     All I want to do is be myself.  That sounds like fun.
     My family has their definition of me, and what I am supposed to be, but I don't exactly feel like myself when I talk to them.  I feel like them when I talk to them.  They are the people I branch out from.  They have some good qualities, but echoes from the past get in the way.  We are all recovering from our growing up experiences, and when we talk to each other, we just remind each other of that, and often, it is not that much fun.  Despite everything, we turned out better than a lot of people in similar situations.  None of us are in jail, so that is good, haha.
     I just want to paint today.
     There is nothing stopping me from doing anything I want in this world.
     I need to buy some paints and canvasses.
     What kind of art do I want to make?  I don't know.  I am not sure.  I wish I did know.  That would make things a lot easier.
     I still have desires to make figurative paintings.
     Hell, I still want to make comic books and children's books.  It all takes time.
     Dr. Seuss would spend a year just on one children's book.
     With art, it is all a matter of commitment.  Everything takes a long time, and to finish anything takes a real long time.  Paint takes a while to dry. 
     Nice to do computer art, but you can't really show that in a gallery.  Well, you can.  Not the same as hand-made art, though.
     I'm trying to get my next art show together.  Not easy.  I need more space and materials.  I don't even know what I am doing.  I am making it up as I go along.  It is fun.  I hope my show comes out.  Not sure if it will or not.  I want to make some real art, but I don't know how to really do that.  I am confused.  I can just make portraits.  I can make art that I know will sell.  But is that art?  I want to make some pieces for me, and some that people might like.  But to get anyone to open their wallets for my art, it makes me feel weird.  I've sold more than my share in my life, too.  It all just feels weird.
     I need more coffee.
     I need Hawaiian punch.
     Instead, I opened up a beer, and I am sipping on that, even though I know I shouldn't.
     Alcohol and painting is an artist's tradition, though.  Good way to die, however.  Not sure I want to do that.  I want to live.
     Really?
     Not one of my best blog entries, I don't care.  I am just working out things today.  So many choices at every turn.  Hard to know how to proceed sometimes.

What is Art?

     Hello.  I had a nice time at the coffee shop.  It was beautiful outside, with the sun coming out, but it was too cold to sit outside for long.  I sat out there anyways.  I like to watch the girls and women.  The sight of them makes me feel alive, and is very good for my art.  Each woman is like a painting, or a piece of art.  She represents all the colors, forms, shapes, nuances, and feelings of sensuality.  Maybe sensual experience.  When I see a woman, it is a lot of things I feel.  It isn't just sexual.  My skin, my eyes, my mind feels a change upon the sight of a woman.  Makes me happy, more or less.

     Other than that, I don't know what art is.  Not anymore.  I used to know, but I no longer know.

     A lot of the things I want to post on my facebook aren't even allowed, but that is where I am with my art.  So I just paint tin cans and bottles since I can not express what I want.  It is fun, but it isn't the same.
     Plus, the art business is just like show business, and I don't know how much that interests me to project my ego like that.  We'll see.  I just have no idea at this time.
     Taking a photograph of a woman doesn't always do it.  The light isn't always captured in the right way.  Often I will see with my own eyes the form of the woman, but it is not captured in the photograph.  It has something to do with my lack of skills as a photographer, and that my eyes see better than the camera, since I have two eyes to create the illusion of form.

      Words.  What are words?  Not sure.
      My mind switches from text to visuals all the time.
     At SFAI, they had us read so much, that I don't know if it visually helped me, but it inundated me with words, lots of words, lots of blocks of text.  Hard to know if I was studying to be a writer or a visual artist.  I guess they didn't want us to go out into the world looking stupid and saying stupid things.  I do a pretty good job of that, though.  I make lots of mistakes, where I don't think through things until experience teaches me how.

     Some people like words, some like pictures.  Some would rather watch a video or a movie.  I try to supply all forms.  I got my blog, my facebook, youtube,...I express all of my art forms with these vehicles.  It is fun, if nothing else.
 
     I like the logic of words, though.  There is a start, a middle, and an end, and you can always fix your words.
 
     I just got done playing 'Free Realms'.  I had major lag near the end.  It's Sunday, the day after Christmas.  I guess a lot of kids were on.
     I enjoyed myself.  I got some new Warrior equipment, which I am happy about.  Makes me feel good.  It's been a long time coming to get some good Warrior stuff.  I got a new axe, which helps.  A level 5 axe just doesn't do the job.
     I saw a girl I knew, but haven't seen for a long time.  She seems to like me.  We are friends.  There is not much to be had in video game relationships.  There isn't much in it for me at least.  Most of the game is better played alone.  I get more done that way.
     This girl has been a good friend.  I don't know what she wants, but she always shows up.  She has in the past seemed to show a little jealousy when I am around other women.  I would think this girl is too young for me in real life, so there is no point to pursue her.  Besides, I only know her through a video game.
     Lots of girls seek relationships in Free Realms, and it sometimes makes it hard to play the game, just like in real life.  But then they make it fun, when it isn't a pain in the ass to be distracted.
     It doesn't help that every girl in the game is really good-looking.
     The only things that differentiate one girl from another is word choice, clothes, and behavior.  Since I joke to myself that all women belong to a collective consciousness, well, uh....one is as good as another, but some are better than others.
     Free Realms supplies everything a woman needs in a relationship.  But since the guy wants sex, there is nothing in it for him.
     Friendship is another story, though.  That is real.  People who are friendly in real life, they are friendly in video games.
     I can be friendly sometimes better in games than in real life.  It depends on what I am doing at the moment.
  
     What is art?  Not sure today.

     I hope the art gods will be happy with me.

It's a Rainy, Crappy Christmas

     This blog is about the only place I can write and feel free without my family or anything getting in the way.  It is how I like it.
     'It' is a funny word.  It always gets in the way, though.
     Anyway, it is raining outside, so it isn't too festive.  Better than snow.  I've had enough snow in my life to last a lifetime.
     I don't like the cold.  I would rather it be warm.

     About the only thing I want for Christmas is a cute girl to show up at my door fully nude or in a body stocking with black, leather, sex boots on, and a Santa hat, and I want her to have some booze with her.  That's about all I want.  Nothing else comes close.  I just want to fuck her for Christmas every which way.  That's about all I want.  Just some patty cake on her buns, and some steam coming out of the oven.  Yes, I just want some good ass grab for Christmas.
     I like this picture.  I took it off of youtube from a talented contortionist.  I would post it on facebook, but some people don't have a sense of humor about these things.  I'm not married, I don't care, I can do what I want.
     I can't imagine being married.  That would be so unfun for me.  I think I would go crazy, with someone being in my face all the time, always having to remember holidays, anniversaries, and all the nonsense that would drive me absolutely insane.
     I just want to make art, and even when I have time and space to do it, I hardly do it.  I never think that I do enough.  I don't even know what I am doing anymore.
     Anyway, I've been wanting to do my next blog for days, but didn't get around to it.  I had all these ideas of what it would be like, and what I wanted to say, but what comes to mind is whatever flows out of my fingertips.
     I just had Kung Pao chicken on Christmas at the Chinese Place.  It was good, but not very Christmassy.  Even with Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas' on the speaker, it did not help much.  However, I feel all warm on the inside now, which feels good.
     I don't know.
     I just want some nice girl to show up with a nice booty.  A good sticky-out butt girl.  You know the kind.
     I don't feel like doing much of anything today.  I'm just happy I have a roof over my head.  That is an accomplishment right there.
     I can't take care of anybody else.  I can barely take care of myself.
     I don't know what I am doing anymore.  I just want to have fun.
     I just want to see some naked girls.  Maybe I will look at redtube in a while.  Internet porn is probably the only way I can see naked girls today.
     I had fun at the coffee shop today, but things didn't seem to click too well.  I couldn't get into the groove, and there weren't enough cute girls there to fill me with life and to motivate my writing and drawing.
     I am kind of out of it today.
     Maybe I just need to lay down for a while.  That would feel nice.  I like to lay down.  It feels good, to just lay there, and let your thoughts roll out all over the place.
     Not much more to say.  Another blog that has turned out to be a total mess.  Just how it goes.  As always, I can always fix it later.
     I need an editor.  No, I don't.  This writing is all for me, I don't care.  Yes, I do.  Well, I want it all to come out great and funny, but it doesn't always happen that way.  So I just wander around.
     The coffee book I am reading is pretty good.  Not bad.  Not the greatest.  Not the worst.
     I just want to play some Free Realms.  That sounds like fun.
     Just this whole big thing about how Christmas is supposed to mean so much, but it doesn't mean too much for me anymore.  Just how it is.
     Naked girls and booze sounds good.  How about two girls?  That would be awesome.  A blonde and a brunette.  I could watch them mess around a little, then they could call me over when they need me.  That would be fun.  It is a nice dream.  It doesn't really need to happen, either.  It is just nice to think about.  It gives me pleasure.  If there is nothing to give me pleasure in this life, I don't see what the point of being alive is.  Do you?  I don't know.
     Anyway, that is about it for right now, unless I can think of something quick right away.
     I love my family, but my Christmas wish for this year is to be pretty much away from them.  They bring me down, and I've had enough of that.  It's going to take a lifetime to recover from it all.  Fuck it.
   

I wish I was entertaining, but I am not. I am really boring...haha.

     Given that, I might as well have a good time.
     Just another day here, I sluffed yoga, and hung out with some boring guy who asked me where he could buy a phone charger.  He was reading The Bible, and we sat at the outdoor table smoking cigarettes while I tried to write.
     He asked me if he could see what I was writing, but I didn't want to show him.
    
     Everything is boring must be the answer.  That would explain a lot.

     I've just been watching BBC programs today like Dr. Who and The Black Adder.  That's been fun.  I guess I ought to watch some Faulty Towers, too.  I haven't seen that show in its entirety yet.  It didn't peak my interest as much as Monty Python, but I'll give it a try again sometime soon.

     Who cares about what I write?  No one.  So why should I care?  I like to write is why.  I like the enjoyment of my fingers going across the keyboard, and it is a hell of a lot easier to write this way than with a a pencil or a typewriter.

     I keep thinking I am going to write a dialogue, but I never get around to it, so maybe I should just start one and see what happens.
 
     A:  Hello.
     B:  Hello there.
     A:  How is it going?
     B:  Just fine.
     A:  Why is life so boring?
     B:  Just how you look at things is why.
     A:  How do you mean?
     B:  Well, it doesn't all have to be a bowl of oatmeal, know what I mean?
     A:  Not really.
     B:  Well, maybe you should spruce things up a bit.  Maybe you need to get laid.  That will pump some
           blood into you.
     A:  I suppose you are right.  But hey, you know what?  I have finally gotten around to writing a dialogue.
          That is exciting.
     B:  It is about time.  I've been waiting.
     A:  I used to write more dialogues, but I've slacked off for quite a while.  One doesn't see many printed
          dialogues.
     B:  No, they don't print many dialogues in the papers or magazines.  It's a shame.  Dialogues are great,
          and they are fun to read.
     A:  Yes, I agree.  I ought to do more, but it takes up a lot of space on my blog.
     B:  You are such a defeatist.
     A:  I know, I should really do something about that.  Maybe tomorrow.
     B:  You're a procrastinator, too, it looks like.
     A:  I do what I can to make the world go round.
     B:  I wish I could get a girl to do some dialogue with me.  That would be fun.
     A:  Yes it would.  It is hard to get girls to agree to do anything.  That is the problem.
     B:  You make me laugh, haha.  Yes, it is hard to get them to agree to do anything.
     A:  They only go into the water when the water is tested and is the right temperature.  Thay have to make
           sure it is safe.
     B:  Yes, they do.
     A:  So what are you doing right now?
     B:  Not much of anything, really.  Just sitting around.
     A:  Why didn't you want to talk to that Bible guy?
     B:  He took so long to ask me where he could buy a phone charger, it became a big deal, and it just
          turned out he was reading The Bible, but otherwise he was a nice guy.
     A:  Did your other friend show up?
     B:  Yes, he did.  He blathered on about something, and I gave him my ears for a bit, and then he took off.
     A:  Was it a good day at the coffee shop?
     B:  Yes, it was, although it was a little cold.  But I was able to get some writing done.  That was good. 
     A:  More of that wandering around kind of writing?
     B:  Yeah, it is kind of exploratory for me.
     A:  So what are you going to do for the rest of the day?
     B:  Maybe go over to a friend's house.  We'll see what happens.
     A:  Well, I hope you have a good time.  I had better take off myself.  I have things to do.
     B:  Okay, I'll talk to you later.
     A:  Okay, bye for now.
     B:  Okay, bye.  That was fun to have a conversation.  I like to have conversations.
     A:  Okay, bye.
     B:  Bye for now.
     A:  One last thing...
     B:  Okay, what?
     A:  Is the friend you are going to see...is it a female?
     B:  Yes.
     A:  Well, good luck then.
     B:  Okay, bye for now.
     A:  Bye.
     B: And it isn't my sister, it's an actual real woman.
     A:  Okay, that is good to know.
     B:  Well, see you around.
     A:  Okay, good bye.
     B:  Take care.
     A:  Okay, I will, you, too.
     B:  Okay, laters.

     I just wanted to say that the guy was reading 'The Living Bible'.  Ugh....I knew he was reading The Bible without asking because of the numbers and I saw the name 'Ezekiel'. 
     He did have a look at the books I was reading, the one about coffee, and the Steve Martin book. 
     I never got around to reading my books.  It wasn't the day for that.  Sometimes it is just nice to have books laying around.  At least someone got to look at them.  It was cold outside, and with the interruptions, I never got around to reading today.
    
     Wow, the day is getting late.  Time flies when you are having fun.  Am I having fun?  I guess I am.
    
     O, I am such an artist.  Writing 'O' is weird.  It seems so ancient and cumbersome.  Most people write 'oh', but that isn't exactly correct, is it?  It is actually easier to avoid the whole thing by not writing 'O' or 'oh' and then you are sure not make a mistake.

     Words are like clay, you can mold them, bend them, and make them do what you want.

      Why am I doing anything?  Bored I guess, and I am trying to have some fun writing a piece.  Someone else might look at this and think, 'wtf' ?  I don't know what they think.  I barely know what I think.  No one reads anymore anyhow.  Not many people I know even have time to read.  I am seeing more and more people with portable electronic devices instead of carrying a book around.  That is a shame.

The Power went out.

     The second day in a row.  Jesus.  This time it was out for hours, so I just went to bed and crashed.  I slept well, though I was just laying there expecting the lights to go on at any minute, but then I finally gave up.  Now I am just cold, and want to fall back asleep soon.
     I listened to a lot of Led Zeppelin last night.  That was fun.  Youtube is awesome.  Nice to finally be able to see Led Zeppelin footage.

      I am reading this book.  It is pretty good.



     I'm just sitting here smoking a cigarette at this point, thinking.  A lot on my mind.  I am just trying to get my groove back.  Second night in a row my groove was interrupted.  I don't like when that happens.  It happens all the time. 
     The band had their practice with their crappy music, that is why I was listening to Led Zeppelin.  I wanted to hear some people who could really play.
    
     I can't think of anything to write right now.  I can, but I am too lazy to write it.  It doesn't fit in.  Writing doesn't always happen in order.  Thank god that I can edit this piece later.
     Just a lot of bullshit in this country.  What is the right soda to drink so you can have proper street cred?  That has got to be one of the dumbest things I have ever heard, but it is real.  7-Up or Sprite could be the proper soda if you want to impress your friends out in the hood.  God, people are dumb.

    

I like the feeling of being able to write, and then publish instantly.

     It's fun.
     I am still looking for good blogs to read, especially from people I know.  I want to hear what they have to say about the world, or anything.
     I had a good coffee this morning, with some conversation thrown in there.  It's good to get my vocal chords working a little.  I've never been known for my great speaking ability.  I need to work on that.
     My friend brought me a tamale.  That was good to eat with my coffee, after a night of boozing it up a little.  However, it was the soggiest tamale I had ever eaten in my life.  The chicken part was good, though.
     Now I am just sitting here with an open road in front of me, like driving through the desert at night on the highway at 3:30 a.m. with the tunes blasting, and the cold air coming through the window to help keep me awake.
     Life is good, now to pay for it.

     Here is a drawing I did while waiting eleven minutes for the Bart train last night on the way home.  I did the inking and colors this morning.  It's a picture of me as a dog enjoying my drink and cigarette with lots of beautiful cuties around and they don't pay any attention to me, as usual, so I just sit there, and have a good time anyway.  What else can you do?  At least they don't run away, though some have, haha.

     Uh....It is one of those drawings that can be worked on, and improved upon.  Something like this has a life of its own.

     I think I would freak out if I knew people were reading my blog.  I don't know how I would respond.  No one comments, so I don't know what people think, or if they think anything at all.  Or if they care.  People don't respond to my youtube videos much, either.  Takes time, I guess.  Most of the comments on youtube are done by high schoolers, and they don't have much to say anyway except a bunch of bollocks.

     If my markers worked in the cold this morning, maybe a couple of the girls would have brown or red hair.

     It was a little chilly this morning, but no rain, thank god.  But it wasn't as cold as in Finland or Russia.

     It must be cold in The Ukraine.

     Like I said, I like to write.  I get a lot of pleasure from doing so, and I like to work out my thoughts in this way.
     But yeah, I don't know what I am doing, and I don't care.  I just like to write as if I am wandering around the park or something.
     I keep coming back to thoughts about Star Trek, and how I would like to make an original video based on Star Trek, but I am still in the research phase of that.
     I want to write some dialogues.  I will.  I used to do it all the time.
     When I go and have my coffee, it is like a writer's almanac session.  Shoot the shit with the guys, hear some shit talk, try and get some writing and drawing done.  I  love doing that, though sometimes the guys who have nothing to do will sit and blab for a long time, or use me as a therapy board...ugh.  Happens.
     ART?  What about that?  I don't know.  I'm doing my best with what I have.  I could use some more space, that is for sure.  It is not easy to paint in cramped quarters.  I need a big, fucking huge room with northern windows, and a big fucking radio, and a model's stand, and a place to do some fucking sculpture.  I also need a room with a big fucking painting rack, and lots of drawers that I can put all my fucking art materials and drawings in.  That would be fucking awesome.  That is what I would do if I had the fucking money.  So, I had better get the fucking money and make my dreams come true, fuck.  It takes time.  I need customers and clients, and people who generally just want to give me money for my shit, so I can make more shit, and take my art to the nth.  That is what the fuck I would want to do.

     I could go to fucking yoga right now...oops, I am late.  There is another class I can go to, but I have to pay some bills.

     I could use a fucking paycheck right about now.  I have to figure that shit out somehow.

     All I care about is making some art, and coming up with some video ideas today.  That sounds good.
     I'll think about some naked ladies, too.  That will be nice.  I like naked ladies.  All this clothing business gets to be too much sometimes.  There needs to be more random nudity in our society.  It's not even a big deal when you see it.  Too bad it is usually some dude.  I wish there was more female public nudity.  I would like that.  Most men are monkey-apes and don't know how to behave themselves, so that will never happen.  Ironically, women want to get naked as much as men, but it isn't really safe for them to do so in most situations.  Too bad.

     It is fun to be writing about nudity when everyone else is at the office.  I have a good life sometimes.  But this is the shit that I want to do.

     I discovered Kathy Griffin.  I like her, she is funny and talented and articulate.  I like the sound of her voice.  I want to learn more about her.

It was another Sunday Night, and I have nothing to say about anything.

     Damn.  I didn't intend it to be that way, just how it is.  I am not the most social person in the world, and I don't do particularly well in social situations, especially with people I don't know.  Even with people I do know, or am assumed to know.  Sometimes you can know someone for years and not really know them, because there is nothing to connect you to them.  They are just acquaintances. 
     I don't know what I am talking about.  I just want to lay down.
     I am hungry for pizza.  Mmmm.  That sounds good.  I had one piece, but I want more, you know how it is.  Good to limit yourself, but sometimes it is more fun to indulge.
     I don't know where this piece is going, I can finish it later...or not at all.

I guess the more blogs I write, the chances increase that something will happen.

     But probably not....haha.

     I found this video on youtube the other day.  It's just great.  You ought to watch it.  There is no audio, but you can see that she is talking.  She is an incredible and sexy woman, and the video shows her taking off her clothes down to her bra and panties.  She is yummy to look at.

     What does this have to do with art?  Everything.  I guess it could come across that I am some kind of perv, but I am actually a heterosexual man interested in the female human body.  I like to explore all aspects of the human condition.  A sexy air stewardess with enormous breasts is a fantasy for a lot of men.  There is nothing that makes a flight better than a cocktail, a cigarette, and a sexy stewardess.  Now they have done away with smoking, and they have male flight attendants who come across as mostly gay to me, and that is no fun for me.  Traveling by air used to be so much fun.

     Anyhow, on my youtube channels, hardly anyone cares about the art videos I make, but if I put up some sexy girl, people will watch that. 
     My plan is to do enough of the sexy girl thing to get people interested in the other videos I make.  Hey, sex sells.  Just watching some old 'Price Is Right' footage...well, why did I watch that show as a kid?  The sexy babes, and I wanted to win.

     Anyway, I am having a nice day today.  I'm cooking up some veggies, and doing some painting.  Of course, I am sitting through mandatory band practice next door.  They are trying to do some emo hipster music kind of thing, but there are only two kinds of music, good and bad.  'Music' with a capital 'M' is a goddess that you must please, and she isn't going to be pleased for too long with the shit I am hearing.  Uh...ugh...well, first they have to learn their instruments and master them, then they have to become humble enough to write some good songs that people actually want to hear, and then they might have something.  With them, it is going to be a long time.

     How about another picture of the girl?  Okay, you talked me into it.
    

     Why is this art?  Look at her face.  It is.  I've seen that look in many comic books.  Where do you think the comic book artists get all this stuff from?  From pictures such as this.
     People get confused about art and photography.  For me, it all goes together now.  I used to pore through endless magazines to find the pictures that I wanted.  Now it is easy.  I got the web, and I got youtube.
     I love to take stills from youtube, because the images, and the moments I take the picture are mine.  It's as good as having the real model here.    I actually could make a painting or drawing just from this photo.  np.
     She does have a nice set of cans, I have to admit that.  Wow.  Nice.  I would like to see her naked.  Plenty of girls that look like her on redtube, haha, and they are getting fucked, too.
     This video is probably just the beginning of a porn movie before they get into it, haha.  It's fun to watch porn clips before the actual sex.  Just the set-ups are some great unintentional comedy.  The sex almost ruins it sometimes.
    
     Let's see, where was I?
     How about another picture?  Okay.

     The sex industry is huge in San Francisco.  That is the reality.  A lot of people in this city make their livings, both male and female, with sex related business.
     Then there is the regular office sexual tension, and people get laid, and have affairs, and cheat on their wives and husbands.  I know what goes on.
     I just think it is good to talk about it all, and to put the cards on the table.  I have nothing to lose, and I don't care.  It doesn't affect me what people do.  What I do certainly doesn't affect anyone.  Anything I do certainly doesn't affect how much money comes my way.  I'm going to have to change that.
     If it takes putting up big breasted women on my blog to get people to maybe read my stuff, then that is what I will do.  I don't care.

     Men love this shit.  Women love it, too, though they don't admit it readily.

     She is a really beautiful woman.  Just outstanding.
   

     It's okay if  'Victoria's Secret' or 'JC Penny' to show these photos, and it is weird when an individual does it...haha.  To me, there is no distinction.
     

     That's all the photos I took from that session, though there is a little more to the video.
     Somehow, the photos makes it really cool.  It freezes the significant moments of time, instead of the bodies always moving.
     I often think about the differences between still and moving images.
     As an artist, I have to nail the still image, and bring it to its tallest height or zenith.  I have to pick one.  It is an incredible burden to carry, because you never know what people will like.  You can spend a lot of time on something that no one will care about, and meanwhile, something you spend an hour on is what people will buy.  That's happened to me before.

     Anyhow, there is the blonde, big-chested and bosomed young woman for the day, and my she is delicious.  A day spent with her in bed would be heaven.

     For some guys, she would be considered a trophy wife.  That is how some men think.  Eventually, it does become about the fact that she is a real human being, with human feelings and emotions just like you do.

     Most men don't understand the depths of a woman's heart.  The river runs deep, guys...so don't fuck with something you don't absolutely love.

     Of course there is the great Sam Kinison line of, "If you don't love the pussy, then why are you fucking the pussy?"
     Well, it makes you think a little, but he banged Jessica Hahn, and she is a mess.

     Anyhow.  I guess that is enough for now.      

       

Good Morning, Sunday...someone may read this someday.

     I don't know what the date is, I don't even care, but I am a little curious, I guess.  I'll check later.  It's important to know what the date is, I suppose.  It helps with orientation.                                                                   I'm just sitting around listening to classic Howard Stern with Sam Kinison arguing with Bobcat Goldthwait.  It's just great radio, from 1988.  Easily available on youtube.  I'm too lazy to provide a link.  People need to learn how to use the computer, anyhow.
     Hey, I made another penny from this blog.  I'm up to 72 cents.  The idea came to start another blog, but I don't know what the hell I'd do.  Just maintaining this one is more than enough work for me.  I don't even know what I am doing with this one.  Maybe if I came up with a clever, cute idea, and just wrote about one subject, that would be better than being all over the place with this one. 
     But I have fun is my problem.
     First of all, I don't think anyone really reads this.  I don't even bother to read what I write, and I suppose I should go through every entry, and check for errors, and see if I can improve what I have written.  Writing is all about the rewrite and the revision.  If you don't do that, you ain't a writer.  It's all right if you are just dicking around, but yeah, if you want to be a real writer, you really have to make it so people understand what the hell you are saying.
     I have Howard going on, and I can't even think, maybe I should turn it off, so I can concentrate.
     I'll figure it out.

     Anyway, it is all turned off so I can think a little.  Captain Beefheart is dead.  There is another one dead and gone.  I was never into him or his music all that much, except for his association with Frank Zappa.  Beefheart did end up being a gallery artist, though, and did pretty well.  I was reading all about the Captain on wikipedia.  I acknowledge that C.B. made a contribution to both Art and Music, and that is commendable.  I still have to go through more of his music and art, before I can really comment.  It never really hit me about Captain Beefheart until I started listening to Frank Zappa's 'Hot Rats' album, and Beefheart did the voice on 'Willie The Pimp', then things started clicking, that maybe I should pay attention to Captain Beefheart.
     Thank god for youtube.  Now I can just go through his catalogue of songs at my leisure.
     I would kill to be a real artist like Captain Beefheart.  I have a long way to go, but I am trying every day.  It isn't easy.

     So what am I doing?  What am I writing about?  I don't know.  I just let it flow and happen.  I have no plan.

     One of my brothers has a blog.  He's made a dollar so far, probably from all the times I've visited it, haha, is what I think.  If he supported me on my blog as much as I support him on his, maybe I would have more than 72 cents.

     My family doesn't want me to write about them much at all.  No names mentioned or anything.  I don't know what I am supposed to do.  I guess just not mention them.  They are a big part of my life, though, so it puts me in a quandary.  Out of respect, I don't write about them, or talk about them on youtube, or anything, though I think that would be kind of fun.  I bet if I had a radio show and they had something to plug they would want to be on the radio show.
     They aren't too involved in my life at this point, anyhow.  It is kind of surface.  They mean well.  A couple of them wish I would go to church and repent or something.  It just ain't going to happen.  But that's how they see me.  The only reason they want me to go back to church is to make themselves feel better about what they do.  It's not for me, it's for them.  I ain't going to church for them.  They just hold me back from being free in my mind.  I have other places I want to swim besides 'Mormon Lake'.  It gives me the shivers just thinking about it.  Brrrrrrr.....
 
     Anyhow, I'm just trying to get some painting done today.  I've started.  I have problems with organization and not enough room for things.  It's a legitimate problem for me.  I have to solve it somehow.

     The Business Aspects of Art are too much for me to handle.  That's for other people.  I just make the art, but you know what?  I'm going to have to take care of that shit eventually.  No one is going to do it for me.  I have to toot my own horn.

     All I want to do is paint naked ladies.  I'm going to have to make some money so I can hire some models again.  Someday, I'll be sitting there with a glass of wine, a big canvas, and a big-titted model, and I'll just go to town with the painting.  Haha.  But I don't even need all that.  I can paint from the computer screen now, for free.  Nothing like having it live, though.

     I'm making some corn, broccoli, and carrot soup.  Mmmmm.  So damn good with some hot sauce.  I don't have any, but I could buy some next door.

     My sister and I did a video call for the first time.  That was really fun.  I'm glad we got it set up.  We talked about this and that.  She seems to be the only one besides me who really wants to get out there and do stuff.  I like that.  In this life, you have to make it happen for yourself.  No one will do it for you.

     My time will come someday.  In a way, it already has.  To be able to blog is a great development.  It's a long time since the printing press was invented, and now we have this.  It is great, even if no one reads this.

     But the truth is, even though someone might not read this today, they may tomorrow, or the next day.  You never know what can happen in this world.  So to actually write some decent material would be nice, it surely would.

     I've had all kinds of ideas what I could do on this blog recently.  I'll get around to it all eventually.  It takes time to get into the right mode, you know what I mean?  Good, because I don't.

     But hey, it's a good life.  All I need is a paycheck and I am set.  I will make that happen sooner or later.  I gotta live, you know.

     Let's see, do I have any pictures to show?

     I have a kitty.  That is something.  I drew this yesterday.  I like kitties.  They are nice, cute, and sweet.

     Just seeing that picture has kind of killed this blog, though.  I can't write any more on this entry after seeing this.   

     But yeah, someone may see this blog someday...oh no, I wonder what they will think?  It is difficult to try and suss that out.


    

I don't even know where to begin.

     I disappeared for twenty-six hours on a secret journey.

     I have returned and don't even know where to begin.

     City Hall is beautiful in San Francisco.  I like the red and green seasonal lighting.  To me, it is like a building for a red and green deck for Magic The Gathering.  I'm naive about politics.  I learn what I can, but it is not a main interest.  Politics are periphery for me for the most part.  They do affect me in ways I don't understand yet.  It is the feeling in the air that affects my art.

     I'm back in my studio.  I know I am here because the band has started up again, with another glorious rendition.

Same Fucking Bullshit ( but Steve Martin is mentioned in this blog. )

     I've never ever written a title of a blog or any English paper with a title such as that.  Yet, it is a pretty good title, and applies to a lot of circumstances.  I can't believe I never used it before.  A lot of English teachers are a little uptight, possibly, so that title wouldn't go over too well.
     Well, apart from locating Steve Martin's subliminal dick on the cover of his book, "Pure Drivel", see photo below, I'm having a good day.

     I had to draw in his penis where it was suggested, because it didn't photograph too well, but you can look at any copy of the book, and pretty much see the image of a dick in that exact location.  It's a ploy to sell books to consumers.  If you notice, and I am sure you have, the dick is in the wrong place, and it is a lengthy one.  Well, it is a tradition for male television hosts to stuff their trousers with a sock to appeal to female audiences, and women wear bras to make their breasts look rounder and fuller, so it is all a game, especially when it comes to appearances and selling.  Just how it goes.
     Is the book any good?  Yeah, it's good.  It is funny.  Charles Bukowski is a better writer, though.  I have a fondness for Steve Martin going back since childhood, so Steve is okay in my book. 
     My English teacher thought I could be reading something better than the 'Unauthorized Biography of Steve Martin' but that was a very rich and compelling book.  I still remember a lot of it, little details of his life that I can throw out at cocktail parties, and impress people with my knowledge about Steve Martin, like how he worked as a magician at Disneyland.
     Anyway, Steve is cool, and if you add an 'a' to 'Martin', you get 'Martian'.

     Cocksuckerblimeyfartcuntasswhorebananafrizzle.  Just thought I'd throw that out.

     Fuck, it always comes back to Art Buchwald.  I read several of his books of his collected newspaper columns in ninth grade.  He was funny, humorous and light.  Howard Stern has become my main Jew since then.

     Uh....okay, here is a close-up of the Steve Martin photo.

    Well, that's the publishing world for you.  I sensed something was wrong when I was looking at the cover yesterday, and finally found what subconsciously bothered me.  Go ahead, look at the book cover.  It is there without my pen line.  It's a simple trick, a variation of an eraser on a newspaper photo, but there is a long schlong in that location on the cover of 'Pure Drivel' is all I am saying.  There is a strange bulge on the inside of his right leg at the crotch, anyway, even if they hadn't put in a long member. 
     These advertisers have images all down to a science.  They flash little things in commercials so fast, it is, "What the hell did I just see?"

     The adveertisers pretty much don't want their commercials to be on youtube, because then people can see how they are manipulated. 

     Anyway, there's my rant about advertisers.  I just want people to be aware of how it all works, so they are not so easily swayed by shit.

     Steve is a smart guy.  I'm sure he knows his dick is on the cover of this book, unless his eyesight has gone bad.  He's a busy man.  He doesn't have time to see if his hot dog is on the cover of his book.

     Hey man, you gotta do what you need to do to sell books.

     I think I bought 'Pure Drivel' for a $1 off of a homeless man who had presumably stolen it, so my copy is a 'hot book'.

     'The Man with Two Brains', his cover on The Rolling Stone...yeah, yeah...But then I started liking him again when he hosted The Academy Awards. 

     But I can't do 'The Pink Panther' thing.

    

"Fuck, Motherfucker!"

     Okay, so those were the first words that came to my mind when deciding upon the title of this blog.  I said, "Why the fuck not?  They are as good as words as any."
     I have 512 hits on this blog, 400 of those hits are by me.  Actually, I am not really sure.
     Why do I blog?  I don't know.
     I was just reading Steve Martin's 'Pure Drivel'.  I haven't picked up that book in years.  I still haven't finished it.  He's not a bad writer, and he is pretty funny.  When I first saw an article of his in 'The New Yorker', I wasn't sure it was actually him, but it was goofy enough that it might actually be him, but I was still confused that he was writing for The New Yorker.  I didn't understand, nor could I comprehend that he could write.  He could tell jokes, and play banjo?  Ok, I could accept that, but write, too?  It seemed unfair.  God had given Steve Martin a 'Four of a Kind', and I only got an 'Ace with 7 High'.  The universe was indeed cruel.  Later I found out that The Universe actually didn't care.  It was into its own thing.
     Steve Martin is lucky.  He has a lawyer that helps him get paid.

     I suffered through another band practice today.  So much work into sounding so shitty.  It doesn't seem worth it.
     The guy practicing electric guitar right now is sounding better than normal.  He is starting to learn riffs from classic songs.  Nice to hear something familiar.  I don't think he knows enough about how music actually works to write his own stuff that actually sounds good.  I don't know anything about music, either, but I'm not the one playing the guitar real loud.
    
     I gotta take a shit.  I'll be back.

   * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     I feel much better.  Just terrible giving more information than people need to know, I know.  I wonder how I would feel if a writer just said he had to take a shit?  I guess I wouldn't give a fuck.  Everyone does it.  But why mention it?  I don't know.  Why the hell not?  I mean, does anyone really give a fuck anyway what I write on this goddamn stinking blog anyhow?  I think not.  Most blogs in this world remain unread.  It is mostly for the people who write them. 
     I've taken to use the blog in the same way that I would when writing for myself on my manual typewriter, my preferred writing instrument.  Actually, the ball point pen is my favorite thing to write with.
     Anyway, I just do my writing, and worry about the damage later.
     The guitarist is still going at it with his practice, so it makes it hard for me to think.  I can play my own music on youtube, and have that blast out to cover theirs up, but then that gets distracting, too.

     I had a nice lunch today at the Chinese place.  Sweet and Sour chicken.  I hadn't had that for a while.  I had tea and soup, too.  That was good.

     They have a new 'Coin Pusher' machine at the tobacco store.  I am fascinated by that thing.  I actually won $1.25.  I had made a profit of a quarter.  Then I pumped it back in.  I would love to win that $20 bill that is sitting near the edge.  It is a very clever machine.  Someone is very clever who invented that thing.  'Coin Pusher' machines are legal in the State of California.

     Life is a gamble, anyway, so why not gamble, right?  That's how most people think.

     I had a nice nap today.  It felt good.  I needed it.  My yoga classes of the last two days knocked me out.  Sometimes the classes give me energy to do stuff until three in the morning, sometimes it is right to bed.

     I made the video of my friend Chris Packer's artwork using Iron Maiden music.  It came out good.  I'm happy with how it turned out.

     My siblings don't like me to talk about them to other people, on youtube, or blogger...I mean, what siblings?  Haha.  I don't have any.
     Maybe I'll just make up a fictional family that I came from.  I can have three brothers who will be composites of the real ones, then I will have one sister, and say we all grew up in an atheistic household.
     It was actually a pain growing up Mormon, always having to go to church, when the other kids would drink beer and watch football games with their dads, or go water-skiing, or camping.  As a kid, you don't know that the whole thing is just made-up.  Everything.  Even God.  It is all made-up.  The whole fucking, motherfucking thing.  I can't believe it, but it is true.  The whole thing is made-up.  What a hoax.  A very successful one at that.  Jesus.

     I did watch the very first episode of South Park, the first one ever made, with Santa vs. Frosty.  I had never seen that one.  I saw Jesus vs. Santa, and then the very first episode where Cartman gets an Anal Probe, which is still a pretty good episode.
     Who knew that South Park would become such a cultural institution?  I read the whole wiki article on 'South Park' yesterday.  It was updated since the last time I read it a year ago.
      Trey and Matt are pretty much at the center of the political spectrum.  In the beginning, I thought they leaned towards the left, but they are right dab in the middle, which allows them to make fun of both sides, and of everything.  They've done very well.  They pretty much get an 'A' on their report card.  The episodes have improved steadily over the years, and just when it seemed like South Park had hit a wall, they kept going and going.  I'm a fan, I can't get enough of that shit.  I can usually watch a new episode two or three times before I put it on the shelf for a while, to have a look at it again later.
     Watching the first episode again means that I have begun the cycle of watching them all over again from start to finish.  The problem with the South Park website, is that they don't have the original intros that were shot for the VHS release of the episodes, which only had two episodes per tape, plus twenty minutes of Comedy Central commercials.  No one fucking watched Comedy Central before South Park.  I thought the network was a joke.  They are doing just fine now, motherfuckers, fuck.  Anyhow, so they don't have those intros, and they have all of those motherfucking commercials, including the new one for Axe with a new cleaner for your balls.  Mankind has survived millions of years without a ball cleaner.

     So, fuck.  The day started getting onto Free Realms, and a friend was there, so I used my Power Hour to talk to her, which was fine, but I didn't make any money on the video game today, and I need all the money I can get on that game to buy all the shit I need.
     Run-on sentences are fine these days.  It's all about what you want to do.  Who gives a fuck as long as you like it?  English teachers be damned.  Actually, it is all around how English is used these days.  Big companies are mis-spelling words on purpose to appeal to consumers.  I hate it, it is ugly, to be so cheap.  So people like me are offended, but it must work since they keep doing it.  It is all about money.  Sad, that is all it is about after all.
     They are playing a couple of Police covers now, but it is out of the range of the vocalist, who I hate so much.  I don't think he has a good enough voice to get anywhere no matter how much he practices.
     I can't hit a note if I was paid to do so.  That's my problem.  But I can draw like a son of a bitch when I need to, I guess that is something.
     Now what?  I don't know.  Kind of hard to read when I got the racket coming in through the walls.
     I pretty much got everything off my chest for now.  Writing a piece is like getting to the next plateau.  I'm actually at the edge of my creativity.  I've done all I can think of with video making, I've pretty much done everything I wanted to do.  The only thing to do is more until someone notices.  I try and come up with new stuff all the time.  I haven't yet written a script for any of it.  Maybe I should.  No one that I know of will appear in a video with me, haha.  Fine, I'll just do fucking everything myself.  I don't blame them, a lot of my stuff sucks, I can't help it.  Part of it is art, part is therapy, I can't help it.  Maybe someday I'll do something good.  It takes time.
     I guess I can always do some painting.
     Hey, I didn't even put a picture on this blog yet.  What's the point?  No one reads this anyhow, and printing pictures is a recent phenomenon anyway.  Even in books they didn't do it much. 
     I always wanted to read a regular novel, and then for no reason at all, it just goes into comic book form for a couple of pages before returning to the novel, but most writers can't draw too well, and most artists can't write too well, as you can see for yourself, haha.
     Ok, I'm done, I can't concentrate on this shit anymore.  Besides, I can always fix it later.