Enter My Den

Not-so-pretty Pictures

Bad or Verse

He Burns to Trip (Parental Advisory)

My Experience in Brazil

The Rotten, Teeming Artist's Den

Yes, I Am Rotting
I finally realized why my counter kept showing '4'. Surprisingly enough, it has nothing to do with me getting no visitors to my website. It has everything to do with the counter code being screwed up. Now I've fixed it, and I have a few more visitors than 4.
School is over, but I'm currently unemployed. Which means no income for the time being. If anyone out there has work in the San Francisco East Bay they want to tell me about, email me, please. Or, if anyone wants to commission a drawing or painting, let me know.

For all you dog lovers out there, I just wanted to remind you to teach your dogs to avoid Chinese restaurants. If you love your dog, there is no better lesson you can teach it. Otherwise, you may not find Rover for several weeks, until that fried rice you order comes out of the kitchen. Good luck, people.
For those of you who spend too much time surfing the internet, I must warn you that ennui could set in at any time. No, ennui is not some strange radioactive fungus.

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I'm STILL lazy...
But I'm finally updating this website. Dearest gods of doom!
Wait, did I actually write that, or just think it? Umm... Jehosaphat! Chthulu! Me Pa Pa! Ra and Set! Bla bla ha ha!
Kaboom!


Enough stupidity. I'm going to begin updating a little more often now that I actually have something to say again. As to why I haven't had anything to say for awhile, I finally got my right brain back from those damn extraterrestrial bastards. Abduct ME, will ya? DIE, anal probe sons-of-bitches...
Hey, I said NO MORE STUPIDITY. I guess I lied. Again. I say a little about my planned updates below.
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Crackerjack Discussion
Mmm, crackerjacks! What a great snack food. And a free prize! How can you go wrong?

Well, I'll be a cracker-jackass and add my own guestbook to my site. Now you can insult me and let everyone else who comes here (all 3 of my visitors) know how bad my site is, how stupid my opinions are, what a load of crap this all is, and the various horrible things you'd do to me if you ever saw me in the street.

Name:
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HomePage:
Where are you from:
Monkeys, mice, or other pets:
Favorite book:
Least favorite movie:
Comments:

Legitimately Insane
Some people would say that I'm insane. Well, I'm not insane, I just live there. Hey, I can even see the shores of sanity from my beachhouse view on the Maniac River. So, if you want to go to insane, just follow the rabbit down his hole. ("Go to insane" was how the phrase was originally said, until some crazy sane person [e.g. psychologist] decided to change it and confuse everyone.)

Actually, I have a lot of respect for psychologists, or for that matter, anyone who can put up with the kind of bullshit people like me go to therapy for. Especially when they have to put up with it for six to eight hours per day. I mean, how often can you listen to someone say "I hate myself and I want to die," or "My marriage sucks and I want to die," or "I hate everyone. They all suck. I wanna die," or "Jesus talks to me in my sleep through the glow-box. I want to die"? Wouldn't YOU get tired of all those people blabbing about themselves and not giving a whit's worth of Buddhafucks about you? So, to all you therapists, I salute your resolve, and impending insanity.
I was about to delete the preceding lines, but I couldn't do it. Damn my weakness! Damn the penguin armies! Damn the chickens!

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Old Mold in Digital Form
Supposedly, I was going to put up new pictures. However, I don't believe I ever did put those pictures up. Maybe I will soon - however, I don't have access to that scanner anymore. I'llsee what I can do about getting my psychotic surrealist imagery online.
By the way, I did a few Dadaist-ish drawings awhile back. I'll see what I can do about getting those up. I might have to sacrifice to the computing gods, or go to the library and pay $.50 or so. I'm not sure which is worse.

Poets Are Crazy
...And so am I. I've got my story up, people! Yes, you can now read my weird, dirty story online! No, it's not sexually dirty. It's got a lot of foul language, and it's about a tripper (yes, I do mean DRUG tripper) so don't let your three year old son read this. I'm placing a voluntary Parental Advisory on it. If you are at least as mature as an average seventeen year old, read on!
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