The Sock-Monkey As Alone

 "this is the great work of a man: always to take the blame for his own sins before God and to expect temptation to his last breath." - Saint Anthony.    I can't remember her name. She was sick in a good way. "take your clothes off." I said "are your sure your ready" she said. "just take your clothes off." I said. "OK OK" she said. she sat naked on my bed looking at me like an animal that was about to be put down "now what" she said. "I am going to fuck your face." I said. she smiled and told me OK. "you want me on the bed?" "no, come over here and get on your knees." she smiled big and told me OK. This bitch knew what she was doing, she was ether given a supernatural talent or had sucked on many dicks. she kept looking with her sad eager to please eyes at me and I took her up on her offer. Grabbing her head with both hands and thrust-ed like a mechanical animal. I closed my eyes and fe...

       Their was a point in my life when I thought I was special and not in a good way. I believed I was the worst at every thing I had ever tried too do and this feeling followed me for all of my life. Then six or seven years ago I found Brad Warner's book Hardcore Zen and begin a journey that I was always on, but could not acknowledge. The thing about Brad is that he won't be bullied or take shit. You can't even guilt him into being your Zen teacher anymore then you can guilt him into being your friend...the man is tough. It is easy to take tough people as cold people, but the difference is tough people won't tolerate that shit.      Most of Brad Warner's work is autobiographical so I won't waste time on the logical details, other then the ones I can think of off the top of my head. For one he is the bass player for the hardcore band 0dfx, he has done some psychedelic rock albums and loves Japanese popular culture (at one point eve...

❝Angharad called them anti-seeds: plant one and watch something die" The Dag, Mad Max Fury Road I will warn you this will be a short piece written by a paranoid-schizophrenic who wants to be a normal member of society. I have mental illness. I can not rely on reality. I should not be allowed to own a gun. This is my opinion I am sharing. And we can agree on shit or we can't, but women Have mental illness too and yet all these mass shooting are by psychotic angry men. Who have access to unnecessarily dangerous things that should be reserved for battlefields, and then only when necessary and sparingly. I am not violent and I am medicated. I see my therapist ounce a week and I tell her anytime I feel strange and ask if I should be committed and more often then not I am told "no, drew." but still I feel anxious and am terrified not of what I will do but of what others will do for the sake of clinging too their weapons. More money should be invested in mental h...

where the reality will fade into the color of her thong. the aggression of the blade teaching her to sing songs. my fur will kiss down your spine debating whether I should guide you through wonderland. or beat you with a fist of wood. my clock says it's too late but I wish to stay here and play. to hurt your naive state, and rape the silly stray. oh Alice, Dear Alice no more.... games of child hood, heart of hope, welcome to wonderland my sweet. teeth grind with every stroke. so don't don't trust the white rabbit if you want to stay clean or sane. your sweet cookies my habit of satisfaction to gain

 " A while ago, I found myself in bloody exhaust grease London again with an all-consuming urge to hunt for two rare things: back issues of NME rumored to be secretly hidden in glass casings and submerged in the fry vats of every kebab machine in the U.K. and the very-out-of-print first Raincoats LP. The NME search was a clever, saucy upstart of an attempt to be, uh, nasty. However, the Lord and Julian Cope himself know how we need, need, need the NME to embrace the unifying hands of our children across this big blue marble and NIRVANA's tarty musical career. So please bless us again - we'll forever feed off of your high-calorie boggy turbinates. In an attempt to satisfy the second part of my quest, I went to the Rough Trade shop and, of course, found no Raincoats record in the bin. I then asked the woman behind the counter about it and she said “well, it happens that I'm neighbors with Anna (member of The Raincoats) and she works at an antique shop just a few m...

"The principle factor in my success has been an absolute desire to draw constantly. I never decided to be an artist. Simply, I couldn't stop myself from drawing. I drew for my own pleasure. I never wanted to know whether or not someone liked my drawings. I have never kept one of my drawings. I drew on walls, the school blackboard, odd bits of paper, the walls of barns. Today I'm still as fond of drawings as when I was a kid - and that was a long time ago - but, surprising as it may seem, I never thought about the money I would receive for my drawings. I simply drew them." - Winsor McCay    The line of Winsor Mccay is nothing short of astounding, in many ways he is my favorite visual artist. He has a confidence and fierce grasp of anatomy in his work that is more inspired then ten of his contemporaries.    While his lovably goofy dialog (often written after the comic was drawn!) let's you feel like the whimsy of the worlds he cre...

 “I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing: when both have fallen in love but still haven't said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.” ― Tove Jansson Moomins are the greatest children's media ever created. That was all that I needed to say, better then a Winnie the poo or the phantom tollbooth. What Tove Jansson created is a magical place only rivaled by the works of Dr. Seuss and (depending on what you think children should be allowed to read.) Edward Gorey. But the shear humanity of her work is what he fans celebrate in their hearts. The kindness and perpetual twilight of the melancholy of the heart. That brings our inner child back to moomin valley too visit the little trolls. They are simple stories about comets and floods, but t...