Sunday, July 15, 2007

me and me


I’m working on 2 graphic novels at the same time. I can’t stay with one style or one story. The 2 stories are different but really they’re the same story. They're about this boy, drawn 2 ways. One boy lives in our world but everything is exaggerated, like as I remember it when I was a kid, especially the emotional part. Crazy emotions. Every feeling all at once and no way to hide it.

The other boy lives in another world, a limbo world from a bad dream. Everything that’s part of the first boy, the boy who lives in the real world, that this real boy feels but doesn't want to experience, feelings of guilt, shame and terror, goes to the limbo world. All the denied stuff goes there. And it waits.

The limbo world boy wanders in a kind of wasteland full of dumped people parts, everyone's. He drifts around not understanding that he himself is just a fragment of the real world boy.

It would happen like this. In the real world a piece of you breaks off, like a quarter dropping out of a short pant pocket. Where does it go? It could find a receptacle in some retarded person in a home somewhere, maybe in the country. You wouldn't realize that you had lost something and the retarded person would have no idea he’s now actually part of someone else. He's sit waiting for dough nut day, hoping to got a jelly filling and that there’s a whole box of them. That's what's on his mind. That's what's on his mind all the time.

The person who lost part of their essence, might not feel right anymore and wouldn't be the first time this has hoccured. They've been breaking up into these fragments and losing bits and pieces of themself all their life. In fact there's not much left of this person. Look around you, at the people on public transit, in malls and waiting rooms.

I think romantic love is the searching for these lost parts. We dope out how if only we could connect with our true soul mate, the person created just for us, to make us complete, that would make our life sweet as honey. This emptiness, which just got compounded onto our regular emptiness, because a new fragment just busted off us, would through true love turn us into something beautiful and whole. And together with the perfect partner we just discovered, we'd be happy and fulfilled. Like forever.

But with or without that special someone you one day, let's say in the middle of the day, and for no apparent reason, you suddenly feel this ecstatic delight and calm, peace even. You guess that you've somehow figured out something important about this life, by constantly worrying and strategic thinking. Now you see how smart and wonderful you are and how good life actually is, you just had forgotten.

But your wrong, your actually feeling the joy of the developmentally handicapped kid who just got some rainbow colored candy sprinkles on his butterscotch dough nut, plus a hot creamy coffee with real sugar, not the diet stuff he's restricted to because of he's 240 pounds fat and blobby.

It's the crazy tongue ecstasy of retard boy squishing and mulching gooey flour confection through the sieves of his missing teeth. This is what would be making you feel so fucking good. Because the fixations and fullfillment of retard's taste buds is what you were really feeling in the place you thought it was all about the sadness, despair, alienation and anxiety of your life.

He's licking powdered pastry sugar off the waxed paper bottom of the dough nut box and his eyes are rolling up into the back of his head, the TV has got a lady talking about a stabbing, she’s round and brunette like the woman who gives him the enema. Up his bum. And that’s tomorrow. The crothc of his jeans have a drool puddle building near his zipper. And my Graphic Novels are about how what you really need is to reacquire these fragments of yourself, relocate them back inside you. That would be for real happiness and might last if you were a real entire person in the first place, which is highly unlikely. So both stories are about that stuff.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

i'd rather blog


I'd rather blog. I hate my career. I hate everything about it. I hate it. I'd rather live in a blog cave and be a little blog light in a constellation of blog blips in a blog sky. I want to be a blog ant in a blog colony. I'm just another blog dirt bit in a stupid blog dirt ditch anyways. Hey look at me, I'm a totally unique blog snowflake falling and melting on your forehead...blapp! Leave me alone, don't anything me. Attention is a stupid big joke, here and then goodbye. Way too much work, the getting of it. Just crap. I think I'll give up. So I quit. Watch stuff and make my basically useless notes and scribbles and bury them behind a wall on this blog. If you want to look, you can go ahead. It's ok but fuck you. What's the difference?