I'm A Fag, I'm a Jew, How do you do?

That's Mr. Anarchist to YOU!

acrylic paint and gold spray paint on a giant frame i trash picked.

Mixes=love

Its cliche anymore but completely true. And 8tracks.com is my savior. Found a cool thing and made my own mix. It's ver eclectic but fun. You should all make one. :D

THE RULES:

The title must be a quote from a movie.

1. A song from the last record you bought.
2. A "blues" song. Does not have to be from a blues record, but a song that is labeled "_________ blues".
3. A song that will get you going in the morning.
4. A song from one of the earliest records that you can remember listening to.
5. A song discovered from a film.
6. A song about transportation (cars, trains, planes, etc).
7. A song from an artist/band that you don't normally like, with the exception of this one.
8. A song with a colour in the title.
9. A song with a number in the title.
10. A song that mentions a religious character/religion.
11. A song about a book (or books in general).
12. A funny song.
13. A cover song.
14. A song that you discovered through a mix tape given to you.
15. A song that reminds you of high school.
16. A song that is perfect for a quiet, rainy day.
17. A song with the word "Look" in the title.
18. Your favourite Beatles song.
19. A song by someone who is now deceased.
20. Any song.

soggy sidewalk blues

it raining on the inside
yea raining on my mind
outside the sky opened
and the ocean poured down
insensitive to my opened skull
its been leaking in ever since that day

and now my jeans are wet
soaked to the bone
they drag the ground and tear
and though theyre on my legs
i fell the weight on my insides
i thought of trying to take them off
but i dont have another pair

so i continue walking
the jeans continue to gather water weight
and the seams start to split
but i wont throw them away
i'll get clashing patterns
and fix them some other day
but for now i feel like calling it quits

b.c my heart is wearing soaking wet jeans
the hole in my head is leaking
so they'll never dry out
and though i try
i cant peel them off

WHOA!

I live in a Dollhouse now. These are some of the things I painted in the Dollhouse.

My Wall!

Adding more lyrics in the future. Including but not limited to the Counting Crows, Paul Westerberg, Tegan and Sara, I-95, Chickpeas, and mooooore Replacements. Maybe a lil ben folds too.

Mike's face.


A Ganesh coffee table. He loves KISS. Ace Frehley is his favorite.

What does it taste like...some kinda treat?

How many hippies can this monster eat?

This has been in my head for a week. So i finally barfed it out throw my hand onto my sketchbook and it falls short of my expectations. But thats usually the case for me. Inside my head is far cooler than what comes out for other people to see. So try to enjoy....maybe? or dont enjoy it at all. fuggit.

and of course, some shit i wrote at 2am. im not quite sure what made it happen, but its about shaving my head so i figured i'd share.

oh i bet she'll be so pretty
she'll be cute as hell
the girl he finally goes with
she'll have the right hair, the right songs
she'll be wonderful
and i can tell you
that she'll never be me
its never me
gonna shave my head
and scream
b.c it'll never be me
please, please dont like me
b.c i'll never like you back
i always want the things i cant have
but im sure if i got em
i would throw it right back
dont know if i want it to be me
never me
my mind cant be made up
so i scream
not sure if i want it to be me

Hey brah...gotta light?

i saw it all every day
every piece
of the big puzzle
i woke up alone
every morning
even though i hear voices
coming up the hall
they penetrate the walls
but i am deaf to these things i hear
every morning
the same people
but i am alone
the puzzle goes unsolved
but i see in clarity
how it would go together
but i have been jamming the same piece
into the wrong slot
in my head
i am screaming
somewhere i am crying
but my eyes just refuse to water
i am emotionally crippled
you give me a smile
i wonder why
why am i obsessed
i see the pieces
i see the answers
but i dont own them
i cant control them
and i am pulling myself apart
soon the seams will bust
picking up the pieces
i will light it all on fire.

Just waitin' for paint to dry...

...all this time is just floatin by
i try to hurry
the wet canvas takes its time
rush the process
meddle in business that aint your own
my hands were in the red
and i smothered the board in haste
why dont you slow down kid
take a breath
while your waitin for the paint to dry
but i just dont got the time
put your records on
and let the mind melt
no no no
i laid here enough
lettin your voice trash my brain
i've got the world to conquer
and no time to do it in
a handfull of blue
i ground into the canvas
and seeing the destruction
i took my heavy hand
coated in that days defeat
bandaged my heart in notes and tunes
and waited for the paint to dry...

a tribute to my soul sista. she's smokin' hot and her voice is a force to be reckoned with.

i will begin with a cop out...

It has come to my attention in the last couple weeks that shop rite has consumed my soul and left me with little creative time to spare. So, in order to save myself from the mundane world of scones i decided to re-create this here blog and post cool things i make. Which i plan to make every week. Kinda like owen's daily comic that is not so daily, or weekly, or monthly....maybe something will come around in a year. i dunno, i keep clicking on it hoping for something good. each time i just get disappointment. i'll set my goals a little lower and try for a week. then when i hop aboard the ss failboat you all can be mad at me for not fulfilling my promises. if you read this...are you reading this? i'm talking to the internet, all by my lonesome. and now for my first submission...something you've already seen! Hooray! don't blame me, blame it on the 8th grade celebration dance that used up all my black spray paint. i had some sexy soul paintin for ya'll, but i suppose that will be for next week.

Anyway, a tribute to one of my favorite bands. If ya can't figure it out by lookin' at it, maybe ya just aren't meant to know. And you prolly don't belong in bug city either. SO GET THE FUG OUT!

This is my attempt at capturing what this band looks like to me, without just paintin' their faces. And errything in there has some significance. And i think its kinda rad so far.

ROK AND ROLL!!

Fuck you south street

-i found most of this in my david bowie sketchpad the next morning. i decided to elaborate because it amused me and my train didn't come for another 45 minutes-

South street at 2am is not a happy place. The best part is that i didn't even have to be there. One, because i could have easily banged a right immediately after exiting the apartment and saved myself a hike. Two, all seats were vacated in aforementioned apartment so i could have my pick of any one of those wonderful, comfy couches. I, however, chose to do neither of these things. Mainly because I have the undeniable urge to move...like a lot. And pacing circles in someone's place who does not know me might make them nervous. So as my mind is melting into paranoid, antsy oblivion i follow the party out the door. Not quite sure what my next move is gonna be. People are dispersing. I hope i said farewell, but i cant be sure because my head is swarming with dinosaur jr and most normal thought process left me hours before when i stared a the 4 floors of dark abyss blowing spit bubbles for awhile. I got this awesome case of vertigo and decided i had my fill of bathroom fun and went to go be a vegetable in public (note: to everyone i met this night who will probably never see this i just wanna throw out there that i think your rad and im sorry you had to witness me as doo doo brain for a few hours. i will make it up to you one day). Yeah, beer was dumb tonight. I confirmed this while wandering somewhere. Myself sober would have been far more pleasant to the people around me. I round the corner to south street because that is where those from jersey feel safe in philly. Here I am assaulted by a million things i want to kill. I text owen and tell him this as i walk in front of a moving vehicle. Johnny Rocket's is not blasting their usual dookie wop, fifties mix and i am thankful for this at the time, until i see a bike punk. I consider just attacking him kamikaze style then lighting his bike on fire. I try not to kick people in the shins who are waiting for pizza. I have eaten two sad pieces of sweet and sour chicken today, a wad of stupid rice and a vat of fruit punch. (If i puke now, it'll look like i puked neon blood. I'm a little stoked about the chance of that happening) I hate chinese food, the only good part about it is the names of some of the food. I spent a good ten minutes giggling at "gizzard dumplings". There is no such thing, i just took all the words i thought were funny and started combining them. Anyway, two nasty chicken things and a vat of kool-aid is not enough to satisfy this fat kid. I was being a bitch to burger king tonight. Feeding my face was too much work. Beer to mouth, yes. Food to mouth, too lazy. Pizza is the only food i will work for. And these assholes are in the way of my pizza. I get distracted from my hunger by a girl dragging her friend's drunk-about-to-pass-out body down the sidewalk. The body is wearing a tiara and complaining about her lack of footwear. I want to yell "What're you the princess of anyway...RETARD LAND!!!" crush her tiara, and punch her in the gut so she pukes. She'll thank me later. By this point, south street is over. I decide i will meet AM at D&B. Instead of taking the bridge constructed for pedestrians, I pretend i'm a car and walk in the road. Now is when my bladder decides it's got a letter to send to the complaint department. I see steps and bushes which are adequate cover while a desecrate the stone circle (possibly monument?) that looks like it was actually supposed to be nice. Oh well. I also managed not to pee on my shiny space shoes that Ace Frehley probably has and wears on his morning jog. Or that's what i like to think. My adventure is dull now. There is no one for me to hate for no good reason. I am focused on my goal. I pass by some on ramps to some highway that makes me think of a Dr. Suess story. I pass penn's landing and reminisce about magical rain, fireworks and capes. Magical MMJ. I made an MMJ shirt, I have a Dead Milkmen shirt. Jubilation...Enthusiasm. I consider jumping into the freezing cold water to commemorate this moment. But my right shoe is untied so i can't. I can't deal with this. I walk around the D&B parking garage looking for AM's car. I can't find it. I walk up every set of fucking stairs. Trying to open random doors. Amazed that the security guard whom I keep passing hasn't asked me what the fuck I was up too. Because i'm sure i didn't look like i was selling girl scout cookies. Paranoia has set in at this time. I fear that the security guard is working for Jigsaw and imagine a digging a key out of my eye hole and freak the fuck out. Evacuation from parking garage in effect now. I call AM, I text AM, I watch a car stop in the middle of the highway so a girl can lean her head out the open door and yak. I openly stare at her the entire time. My face stone cold stupid, dumbfounded while in my head i see the taco bell dog. Instead of saying "Yo Quiero Taco Bell" he's just screaming "HA!! SUCKER!!! PUKE BITCH, FUCKIN' PUKE!! HAAAHHAHAHAHA!!!".
Guess I'm sleeping on concrete tonight. Finally, that bitch walks out the door right by me. I must look homeless. Or just so pathetic that i don't exist. I follow her too the car like a complete creeper. I have given up yelling "faggot" to get her attention. I only wish she was as paranoid as me so i could get her to shit herself a lil bit. She laughs at the fact that i walked here. She is on the phone with her sweetheart wishing them a happy valentines day. So I scream "HAPPY VALENTINEZZZ DAI JESSE!! I DUNNO YOU BUTTTT I THINK YER FUN!!!"
This ends the phone conversation. I get attention and more smokes. As well as the shakes later on because i haven't eaten in a year. I have missed calls/texts from people who i invited to hang out then forgot about. I lay paralyzed on a futon only screaming at the cats that i'll murder their souls if they don't knock it off before i finally crash.

Fuck you clown

Some people say I've been wasting my time. Letting many a golden opportunity slip by. But I don't believe in waste or regret. My time is just spent like money. And when it's all used up, at least I had a few laughs. But the lazy days don't pay the bills. And I got a bottle of of gin for some cheap thrills. Still I hop in my shitty car, not of age for a single bar. But when it's legal where's the fun in that. Plus I'm just here for a cruise and good tunes. Don't have the gas money, and I'm burning oil. Fast forward shuffle, but it's all miss and no hit. Cuz I'm only one of the millions, looking for Alex Chilton. So take me away Westerberg, my foots to the floor. Driving to someplace that I pretend is home. Because I've never been a regular anywhere. I wandered around Jersey and Philly both. A few people take me in. And for awhile I pretend I don't exist outside these scattered beer ash trays, and dirty floors we sit on. If you gotta go I'll keep your spare couch company. If you kick me out I can just curl up on your steps. Wait for you to miss me hanging around again. All my fucking "wasted" time. Piercings, tattoos, and cigarettes. Loud guitars, and obnoxious conversation. Long drunken walks. I miss the city lights. I miss feeling gloomy and dark when I follow the R7 tracks. I wanna lay in the middle and practice feeling numb. My arms out the window, and I can feel every hair move with the wind. My stomach is twisted. And I ride back to the house I stay at. Where they all think I'm off balance. Another car ride unanswered. Just as nostalgic as when I walked out the door.

EVERYBODY GET DANGEROUS!!!! BOOOOOO-YAH!

I wish the internet had feelings....so i could hurt them.

i just spent two thousand years creating a whole new website. i even played photographer and took nice pictures. my ass has been planted in this seat, i have not enjoyed food without being interrupted by something website related. the spring in this seat has been slowly riding up my butt, threatening to invite its way up my asshole. for once everything was done and loaded in the proper way. the ftp, fcc, fu dickweed was connected properly and now.... ERROR 404-File Not Found!!!
Let me find it for you, ITS RIGHT HERE ON MY COMPUTER. IM STARING AT IT. ITS NOT GOING ANYWHERE. WHAT THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING SHIT FUCK IS WRONG.
now, after a days work i have absolutely nothing to show for it. HOORAY!
oh yeah, and i had to have my dog put down yesterday. and she was freakin out, and probably hurtin' and it made me feel real sad.

this post=ironic because i just went buckwild raving lunatic about anything web related as i post this blog....online. bite me.


Oh hey look its a product of my photo shoot. im channeling the spirit george harrison.

For Owen

Two Slackers=nothing accomplished

this is about as far as this comic will go. but hey, at least the cover is darn clever. and if all you have is a cover who needs an interesting plot. nuk nuk. 

Just Sayin'

everything should be as simple as a ramones song. 

WHY THE FUCK IS THERE NO HELVETICA. PERIOD.