I’m trying to write a comic right now. A short comic, five pages long, five pages start to end. So, why am at my computer making this post rather than type, type, typing up a vast concavity full of fascinating words and ideas? Probably because I have no idea what I want to write about. A shortage of concept hasn’t stopped me from typing up a few lines of dialogue though. But, now I don’t know where to take it. I decide while speaking to Queen “B” on the subway ride home, that the story would be an introduction to a comic book story I’ve been toying with about an angel who must eventually seek redemption due to some unfortunate events. (Ok, that was a run on sentence wasn’t it.) I decided this after having abruptly announced that I was going to start and finish an entire comic script by the end of tonight. Now, here’s a bit of history for you folks unfortunate enough to be reading this (unfortunate because you probably don’t have anything better to do right now than read this.) I have never written a comic script in my life. BOOM! There you have it guys and dolls, I have never, ever written an entire comic in my short lifetime. Oh, I’ve made multiple attempts, but have never actually gotten anywhere near five pages. That’s why it’s so very important to me that I finish one tonight. OI! It seems I’ll have to crack the whip on my imagination if I’m going to get this done by morning. This is something that wouldn’t be too difficult if I could just stop thinking about… PIZZA! Yes pizza! The bane of my existence since I developed lactose intolerance 3 years ago. DOINK! Queen “B” and I went out for some ooie gooie slices at Rays of Greenwich Village (the only original, truly famous Rays if you ask me) and oh! such pizza did we eat. We ate ‘til we felt stoned by the amount of cheesy goodness in our now protuberant bellies. As slovenly and mountainous as I feel right now all I can think about is a freshly baked pie of that wonderfully luscious ‘original, famous, spectacular, heaven shaking, corrupt government overthrowing, pestilence curing, race/class/gender transcending, famous original Rays of Greenwich Village.’ GRRRSHPOINK! I must now return to my comic script writing. But first......
Signed,
Hoping to never heare Queen "B" sing the doom song ever again!
Thursday, April 11, 2002
I GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GOT IT HEHEHEHE! I will be living in a double studio w/small bedroom, a living room and laundry in the basement. Goodbye creepy CAN. click that stops talking when you enter the lounge than badmouths you when you leave. Bye, bye to you damned stinky urinals and filthy communal showers with ringworm on the curtains. Seeya never, air-conditioned room in the middle of winter and central heat in the summer. Good day to you silly 19 yr. olds who think you know everything about the world and think that being anything above 21 is lame and “stoopid”.
Fuck you very much fat john who runs down the hall at 4:30 in the morning “just because”. Screw you big nosed shaven legged Dan stomping down the hall in your flip-flops acting like your better than Froug across the hall “just because” even though you still can’t manage to get Pratt radio off the ground.
And as for the rest of you… my friends (you know who you are), thanks for sitting around having drunken anime night with me, thanks for patting me on the head when I’m feeling down and not rubbing the beeswax off, thanks for staying up ‘til just before final reviews to “get it all done just in time” (we’ll have to do it again soon, don’t forget). Thanks for going on a long drive to nowhere when we needed to get off campus, thank you for helping with my zombie makeup on halloween, thank you for thinking the James Dean photo on my wall was a picture of me. Thank you for liking my paintings and letting me know that despite what my LCD teacher thinks, yes I do have talent. Thanks for admitting that you don't know as much about the world as you wish you did and that being anything above 21 "might not be entirely lame". ‘I don’t know half of you as well as I should, and dislike others of you as well as I aught to.’
P.S. don’t worry; I’ll still get you drunk whenever you need it.
Signed,
Excited, Sad, and curious
Fuck you very much fat john who runs down the hall at 4:30 in the morning “just because”. Screw you big nosed shaven legged Dan stomping down the hall in your flip-flops acting like your better than Froug across the hall “just because” even though you still can’t manage to get Pratt radio off the ground.
And as for the rest of you… my friends (you know who you are), thanks for sitting around having drunken anime night with me, thanks for patting me on the head when I’m feeling down and not rubbing the beeswax off, thanks for staying up ‘til just before final reviews to “get it all done just in time” (we’ll have to do it again soon, don’t forget). Thanks for going on a long drive to nowhere when we needed to get off campus, thank you for helping with my zombie makeup on halloween, thank you for thinking the James Dean photo on my wall was a picture of me. Thank you for liking my paintings and letting me know that despite what my LCD teacher thinks, yes I do have talent. Thanks for admitting that you don't know as much about the world as you wish you did and that being anything above 21 "might not be entirely lame". ‘I don’t know half of you as well as I should, and dislike others of you as well as I aught to.’
P.S. don’t worry; I’ll still get you drunk whenever you need it.
Signed,
Excited, Sad, and curious
Wednesday, April 10, 2002
Oh lawdy, LAWDY! I have gots to lay me off dat formula "40 O.E." Got into a completely unnecessary conversation with Boulder at about 730 in the morning. We were discussing Che Guiavera and Luis Farakahn (those names are prolly misspelled but fuck you if you notice) and other subject I probably wouldn’t have brought had I been sober. I dislike political conversations about as much as religious conversations. HOOLAWDY!!! I’ve gotta write a poem for English in about a ½ hr. but I ain’t got shizit to write about. Think I’ll just use one o’ my old ones…. Yep! That’s a good idea….
Signed,
Very well hung, thank you!
Signed,
Very well hung, thank you!
Tuesday, April 09, 2002
The previous post's were products of an over active imagination, helped along by formula "40 O.E." and some unwanted ghost's of the past. I have good news though dear readers; I'm at the top of the Graduates list for the double's housing lottery here on campus. BOOYA! Bad mojo mofo!!! I have done licked you SUCKA! I shall now micturate into your cranial embouchure, you silly little Saturnia pavonia of ill will.
Now, on a more rational note; I have to go and roam Brooklyn tonight and see where exactly the graduate dorms lie. If they’re too far off campus, it would suit my bohemian lifestyle better to just take a suit here in Willoughby Hall. So, now wish me luck and splendor, all you darlin’ polliwogs…. I have a feeling I’ll need it.
Signed,
Goddammit! I’m getting more and more pretentious with every post!
Now, on a more rational note; I have to go and roam Brooklyn tonight and see where exactly the graduate dorms lie. If they’re too far off campus, it would suit my bohemian lifestyle better to just take a suit here in Willoughby Hall. So, now wish me luck and splendor, all you darlin’ polliwogs…. I have a feeling I’ll need it.
Signed,
Goddammit! I’m getting more and more pretentious with every post!
I make farty noises now... I do... but nobody listens. WHY! GOD! WHY! Do not compare my testies to pine seeds, they are so much tastier! MMMMHMMM! yep! OH! such farty noises I have made! And still they do not listen.........................................................................................
Signed,
what is mean "sober"?
Signed,
what is mean "sober"?
Response from Neil Gaiman to "My letter to Neil Gaiman"
Dear Doctor,
I believe you are mistaken, it was not "last Sunday" but in fact the Sunday before in which we played racket ball. I remember thoroughly kicking your ass and making you beg for more. By the by, the Wife and kids have been missing for roughly a week now, I just noticed they were gone when I woke out of my drunken stupor ( you know us brits.) Have you seen them? I thought at least you might have received a phone call from them, if not than; no worries. I’m sure they’ll turn up someday. Oh, I just wanted to add that your comment about the skin coat was slightly disturbing. I don’t like reading about poor minks suffering needlessly.
Love and Smoochie, smooches to you and yours,
Neil Gaiman
P.S. Enclosed you will find a swatch of my fresh skin, just pop it in the microwave to warm it up… Enjoy!
Signed,
Oh, so very, very, drunk at this point!
Dear Doctor,
I believe you are mistaken, it was not "last Sunday" but in fact the Sunday before in which we played racket ball. I remember thoroughly kicking your ass and making you beg for more. By the by, the Wife and kids have been missing for roughly a week now, I just noticed they were gone when I woke out of my drunken stupor ( you know us brits.) Have you seen them? I thought at least you might have received a phone call from them, if not than; no worries. I’m sure they’ll turn up someday. Oh, I just wanted to add that your comment about the skin coat was slightly disturbing. I don’t like reading about poor minks suffering needlessly.
Love and Smoochie, smooches to you and yours,
Neil Gaiman
P.S. Enclosed you will find a swatch of my fresh skin, just pop it in the microwave to warm it up… Enjoy!
Signed,
Oh, so very, very, drunk at this point!
MMM, reading Neil Gaiman makes it all better.
My letter to Neil Gaiman
Dear Neilly I love you so much I want to wear your skin. Like a great big mink coat except it would be a Neil Gaiman coat. My, my! How happy I would be wearing your fresh and still warm skin. You are my most bestest friend.
Hugs and Kisses to the wife and kids,
Dr. Drackenstein, P.H.D
P.S. Great game of racket ball last Sunday, we simply must do it again.
Signed,
Mostly drunk and totally demented
My letter to Neil Gaiman
Dear Neilly I love you so much I want to wear your skin. Like a great big mink coat except it would be a Neil Gaiman coat. My, my! How happy I would be wearing your fresh and still warm skin. You are my most bestest friend.
Hugs and Kisses to the wife and kids,
Dr. Drackenstein, P.H.D
P.S. Great game of racket ball last Sunday, we simply must do it again.
Signed,
Mostly drunk and totally demented
Monday, April 08, 2002
Blogger, you are a feral beast at times! Roughly twenty minutes is far too long to wait to post something. I’ve practically forgotten what it was I wanted to say. Anyway I’ll forge ahead and wish my wonderful sister well. The last post on her blog made me unhappy. Not because I’m worried about her mental well-being (she’s a strong woman and will survive) but because I do, in fact, believe and agree with her morbid musing’s. As much as I love life I also wonder what the point is. Where’s the reality, the truth, the passion?
Today in English class I assaulted a girl with my distopian brewed opinion that “it’s impossible to create a real, new artistic movement” one which would shake the foundations of the nation itself. This is not a freshly arrived at conclusion, but one I’ve had tucked inside for quite a while now. Where are the “Beats” of my generation, the great minds of my generation? I too love the “mad ones”, the ones who are mad about life, mad about everything, but, it so difficult to find anyone like that nowadays. She gave me the look of someone who’d a had fist full of spaghetti shoved in there mouth with out being asked first.
Queen “B” accompanied me on an errand tonight after class. She alluded that she believes me to be more entertaining while drunk than sober. Hmm, I responded that I’m far more animated when she’s not around, but, my version of animation is probably different from her own. When I was younger (not that I’m old now) I used to feel the need to be “on” all the time. Always telling jokes, always being a psycho. However, now I just don’t feel that need anymore. I’m far more interested in talking than in running. I can only liken it to the fact that when I was a child I used to love nothing more than candy, but now I’d prefer a piece of well baked bread rather than a jawbreaker or lollipop.
Maybe therein lays the key to finding these “mad ones”, maybe through conversation can I truly become a mad one myself. Don’t get me wrong, I am mad, perhaps too mad for most people at times. But, well… I still love lollipops; it’s just that I’ve learned not to run with one in my mouth.
Signed,
Frenetically Morbid
Today in English class I assaulted a girl with my distopian brewed opinion that “it’s impossible to create a real, new artistic movement” one which would shake the foundations of the nation itself. This is not a freshly arrived at conclusion, but one I’ve had tucked inside for quite a while now. Where are the “Beats” of my generation, the great minds of my generation? I too love the “mad ones”, the ones who are mad about life, mad about everything, but, it so difficult to find anyone like that nowadays. She gave me the look of someone who’d a had fist full of spaghetti shoved in there mouth with out being asked first.
Queen “B” accompanied me on an errand tonight after class. She alluded that she believes me to be more entertaining while drunk than sober. Hmm, I responded that I’m far more animated when she’s not around, but, my version of animation is probably different from her own. When I was younger (not that I’m old now) I used to feel the need to be “on” all the time. Always telling jokes, always being a psycho. However, now I just don’t feel that need anymore. I’m far more interested in talking than in running. I can only liken it to the fact that when I was a child I used to love nothing more than candy, but now I’d prefer a piece of well baked bread rather than a jawbreaker or lollipop.
Maybe therein lays the key to finding these “mad ones”, maybe through conversation can I truly become a mad one myself. Don’t get me wrong, I am mad, perhaps too mad for most people at times. But, well… I still love lollipops; it’s just that I’ve learned not to run with one in my mouth.
Signed,
Frenetically Morbid
Sunday, April 07, 2002
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