"They have cradled you in custom, they have primed
you with their preaching.
They have soaked you in convention thru and thru:
They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to
their teaching; -
But can't you hear the Wild? -it's calling you.

Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck
betide us;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star
agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling - let us go."

Robert W. Service

I can't tell you anything you don't already know. If I did, how would you really know what I was saying.

Right now I'm taking my second tumble through Tracey Butler's exquisite contribution to sequential art and historical fiction called Lackadaisy. My first week-long visit rattled the cob webs right out of my head and I've been dying to write about it ever since. This book is the most believable, stylishly engaging and emotionally enrapturing comic that plays its song to the tune of my heart. The amount of individual talent, care and research that has gone into this work is nothing short of phenomenal. After my first fling I have been unable to pick it back up for over a month and a half now. It is the sort of art worth torturing yourself over.

You see, reading comics have never been the same for me since my friend let me borrow Scott McCloud's masterpiece Understanding Comics. When I find something I actually like, I usually can't read it now. I've found that I have to wait until an undefinable but clearly recognizable moment strikes me. When I eventually find the mindset to perceive it for the first time with mental clarity, only then do I feel I can do such a comic the justice it deserves.

As much as I wanted to jump right into this brilliant interpretation of St.Louis at the height of prohibition in 1927, I forced myself to put it off until I began to have obsessive thoughts about reading it. I even started imagining what it might have been like to live back then in my spare time. It is right around the time I experience that type of mania that I know its time to wait at least twice as long as I already have.

I've found that the best time for a good comic is right after life throws you heart wrenching failure of some kind like losing your job and you've been wallowing in the quagmire of your own delusional short comings when suddenly you notice something deceivingly simple but undeniably uplifting about life. Such as waking up to the sights and sounds of two chipmunks wrestling over acorns inches from your head just outside your bedroom window.

Once I pass that step I finally go starve myself all morning, pace about contemplating the mental phenomenon of happiness, drink some coffee and then muster up the courage to actually pick up the comic and feel it in my hands. I find that it is also entirely important at this stage to actually give the thing a good sniff or two. Inhale the subtle fumes of the ink and caress the gloss of its pages and feel that it is a thing that has the weight of significance that only patience can give.

Next I spend inordinate spans of time sewing each picture through my heart while my mind dances with every word it can in the short span of life's little sunbeams. If one day I suddenly find myself singing goofy lyrics to a song that surprises me to remain unforgotten then I feel that I am ready to read the next few pages.

From the unique point of view I attain by working the majority of my time away for minimum wage and the maintenance of a small childless family while also trying to make time for an appreciation for nature and art I have found that daily living as an average adult in this society demands quite a bit of one's time. We all know that time is a valuable quantity, unfortunately it will always seem much more important than anyone will ever be willing to pay you for. However this comic is so enjoyable and enlightening that it feels as though I am the one being paid to read it. Not in dollars of course but the moments it has given me are nearly priceless.

It seems that Ms. Butler is the type of woman who writes a comic that doesn't tell us how to savor our time, she has shown us something that makes us want to. With eloquent words and elegant pictures that reward the meticulous observer I have seen that American history doesn't have to be something that puts you to sleep at night. I have seen that it can actually inspire the most jaded mind to want to learn anew. With a story so unique and unforgettable and characters that are so alive they jump right off the page and into your life: its the sort of story that could fill even an undesirable arm chair philosopher with hope. It inspires me with a fledgling artist's first aspirations of a sustainable and respectable path of inspiration.

Please take a moment of your time to see what some of our avian friends are capable of.

http://www.sciencemag.org/feature/d...../weirmovie.mov

The preceding article:
http://www.sciencemag.org/feature/data/crow/

Also, from Wikipedia:

On October 5, 2007, researchers from the University of Oxford, England presented data acquired by mounting tiny video cameras on the tails of New Caledonian Crows. It turned out that they use a larger variety of tools than previously known, plucking, smoothing and bending twigs and grass stems to procure a variety of foodstuffs.[14]

Here I am....looking for a job again.

Anyone who needs a good strong hard working young man who doesn't put up with any crap to do their bidding? I must warn you though I don't take kindly to unnecessary drama. If I am employed in one of those work atmospheres where everyone forms little stupid clicks and employers judge their workers on petty social things and not intelligence or work ethic again and I will let my feelings be known until people get their heads out of their ass and focus on their job or you fire me for whatever stupid excuse you can think of because you really don't like doing your job anyway.

I lost my job

I haven't eaten all day

I feel good.

And so I'm listening to some long lost song
from Ecco the Dolphin,
an important chapter in my life,
contemplating
the meaning of
my ferociously awkward
meeting with my new manager.

what people do to each other
for money
Is what I saw in that woman's eyes
that day.

I'm just glad I took a stand
for the happiness of humanity.

And by happiness
I mean the eternal
validation
of art:
the image of our humanity:
The true stuff "religions" are made from:
the face behind
the corporeal facade.

The woman told me i couldn't draw.

I learned something that day
giving someone on a power trip
a piece of my mind.

So to my fellow fledgling artists:
If you have something to say
Say It.

Lest you give your fate to someone else.

That life isn't for me anymore.

Its just a shame the system seems to run on
the energy of those who give it away for free
because they were too afraid to live

If ever the time comes
when the powerful "honor" me with the chance
to prosper at the suffering of others
I'm going to draw a humiliating comic about thier
moral bankruptcy and post it all over the internet.

I mean come on.....i don't want to be successful here
(I wouldn't know what to do
with success if It came up and bit me in the ass,
I'd probably use it as a towel to clean my
bicycle chain with)
I just want to use my
humble talents
to change the world.
One monkey mind at a time.
Any number between 1 and a few billion will do.
Thats all.
If its enough to make just one creep think twice
I'd consider the time, money and respect art takes from me well worth it.

You can keep your money
money-creeps.
It just poisons people anyway.
Its the kind of stuff that makes people think
its ok to separate parents from their children
because thier behavior doesn't fit the money-creep's
idea of a societal norm.

I had fun living 3 months in the woods
hiding from the "christian" soldiers.
I would have lost my mind if they gave me away
to their idea of what good parents are.

So after squandering countless hours staring at my screen telling myself i had writers block I decided to play music really loud and dance with my bicycle in the middle of my kitchen.

Its like that old Seng-ts'an person said:

The wise person does not strive;
The ignorant man ties himself up...
If you work on your mind
with your mind,
How can you avoid an
immense confusion?


So you may have heard I went to my very first Furry Convention a few days ago. It was a mind blowing experience. Stepping into the Sheraton hotel on Saturday afternoon on the 25th of April was like stepping into another world. Apparently leaving this world for a few hours was exactly what I needed because I haven't felt this good in quite some time. My automobile also broke down while I was there, forcing me to sleep in my tiny little 90 Honda CRX that night in the hotel parking lot and then ride my bicycle nearly 30 miles the next morning to get home.

But while I was there I had a blast. Wandering around a hotel surrounded by people dressed in expertly crafted fantastical creature costumes seems to be one of those things that leaves one feeling a bit manic. Like I had died and gone to the kind of heaven specifically reserved for cartoon lovers. Where every geek is free of societal constraints, surrounded by people just like them, where cartoon characters aren't just something you see on a screen; they're actually in front of you occupying physical space who walk and talk and if you ask really nice you can reach out and touch the crazy fockers. Turns out crazy fockers are really soft ^_^ and full of interesting conversation.

It was unreal. There were moments where I wasn't really sure if I was dreaming or if I had fallen into another dimension. One moment I was having my sketchbook signed by an artist I had idolized since childhood, the next I was dancing to some electronica remix of the original mario brothers tunes next to a gorgeous wolf fursuit with glowsticks and smiley face balloons tied to his tail under a sky of coherent beams of light of nearly every color in the spectrum. My occipital lobe was thoroughly bedazzled, my temporal refreshingly engaged and the frontal cortex....well lets just say it had more positive stimuli than it could deal with since I first laid eyes on a giant candy coated Easter bunny.

I owe alot of my experience to 2 though, the guy really went out of his way to make sure I had a good time. The fact that someone so infamous would give me, in all of my obscurity, such treatment must have been some twist of fate. I'm glad the guy chose to stop at my gas station instead of Meijer across the street. The guy also gave a killer performance that night, he certainly knows how to make me giggle.

I have to say that amidst the presence of all these great people that the mass media continually regards as freaks I felt right at home. I've never seen so many beautifully unique expressions of individuality in one place before. There were so many open minded people all around me that it boggled my fuzzy little noggin. The chance to be around human beings who actually seemed like REAL people, for a change was a breath of fresh air.




On my bike ride home I noticed the marsh marigolds in bloom. One of my father's best paintings was of marsh marigolds. It certainly seemed like one of those coincidences seeing them there on one of the most beautiful days after one of the most memorable nights of my entire life.

Maybe its like that old coot Ralph Waldo Emerson is known to have said.

"The earth laughs
in flowers."

Though I may fancy myself a rational person when i get mechanical, I am an artistic creature and the imagination seems to be far more closely bound to the "soul."

I believe my father is with the earth now as he has always been behind that paintbrush. Looking at those marsh marigolds the other day had my mind working up the unexplainable:
the true and sacred "heresy" I had inherited was a map along the strands of significance here in this synaptic web of life resting inside my skull.

After evaluating that psychological spaghetti jungle...


I'd say
he wants me to be happy.

Alright watch out everyone who doesn't give a damn....I'm about to vent some bad monkey vibes. Prepare yourselves.

by the way.......I HATE MEMEs like this one......

Grrrr.....

1. Are you single or taken?
I am taken......by the earthsong herself....and bill nye the science guy because science is cool

2. Chocolate or flowers?
Choclates, because riding a bicycle everywhere lets me eat whatever the frack I want.

3. Will you do anything special for Valentine's Day?
I hate the world a little less, because sometimes I get to see people doing cute stuff in public. Like kissing....hugging.....and sometimes......dry humping. Big shout out to all my fellow public dry humpers out there!!! Wooo...... dry humps for jesus..... Oh my oh no, what am I saying....dry humping....IN PUBLIC!!!! deplorable.....valetines is the devils day *giggle* no, sorry Its true.... I'm actually crazy enough to think dry humping in public is cute. Especially when old people do it, lol. Old people have feelings too ya know. Jeez. Don't be a player hater.

4.Do you like anyone?
I like hardly anyone but friends from long ago. Everyone else seems like anthropmorphic bags of red jelly with creepy ass button eyes. So excuse me if I just wish they'd all go away.

5. Were you dating anyone last Valentine's?
My girlfriend, and you know what? Frag you for asking me such a stupid question. I will draw humiliating picutres of you meat puppet....you better watch the fock out.

6. What would be your dream Valentine's date?
Have a huge orgy in the street with my girlfriend and a bunch of androids I'd created earlier in the day all by myself in the back shed extracting raw materials from the 10x10 piece of sod they call my back yard. Oh......and all the robots have been made to look exactly like every douche bag has ever handed me a church pamphlet in my life. Hot. I love dominating mindless douchebags with my girlfriend.

7. Do you make a big deal about Valentine's?
Nope I just eat chocolate untill my intestines rupture. It hurts the first time....but after that.....oooo.....mmmm....yeah, its really quite fun.....I highly suggest it, having feces leech into your body cavity is great for the "soul".

8. Have you ever had a secret admirer?
Yep, then she found out I hated "jesus" and that I'm a closet nymphomaniac wanna-be whos too paranoid to act on his idiotic desires who draws porn instead.

9. Would you ever write someone a love letter?
I really wish the weight of modern living as a retail slave wasn't crushing my godless little soul right now than maybe I'd actually have the inspiration to do something as amazing as that.

I'm sure my girlfriend would love it. I love to make her smile ^_^

10. Do you believe in Cupid?
I believe in Completely Universal Processor I/O Design or CUPID for short.

11. Do your parents give you presents on Valentine's?
Giant boxes chock full of Choclate flavored hydrogenated vegtable oil and corn syrup.

12. Do you still send out Valentine's cards?
I'd probably have a much closer relationship with jesus if I did.

13. Do you like candy hearts?
They taste like chaulk. I want to sky dive naked from an aero-plane with my mouth full of them. Then I'd tattoo my lovers name across the sky in a trail of candy heart vomitus.

15. Is Valentine's depressing?
No way. Its great. I love Love.

16. How do you feel about PDA?
I luv it. I like seeing it, I like doing it.......that is when I can get over my stupid paranoia. Luckily if I just imagine all those imaginary watchers getting shot by a bowel disrupter for all of eternity than I'm feeling fine and I actually make snuggle shluvs with my lady all over my car at night in the woods under a full moon.

17. How is your love life?
Delicious.

18. Have you ever been dumped on Valentines?
No sir, only on Christmas and my birthday.

19. How many roses would you want?
I want no roses, give me a basket full of guavas and kiwis instead.

20. Will you have a boyfriend/girlfriend next Valentines?
Yes and hopefully she will be getting bodaciously bone-inated to poly orgasmic bliss all day that day. Just like in hawaii. Hooray

car wouldn't start
bumper fell off
Bicycle is still rarin' to go

would love to rant
but I've got to go
out for a Dance
called
me and the cars

This is the story of a school yard dork.

A rebel of all conformity.
Another Man damnded
Champion of imaginative expression.
Friend of Geeks, Freaks and failures galore.
Gathered making marks in the sand.

Exhibiting little power
at the expenses of
risky business:
the precarious power
of fooling up
a blinking glimpse
of the muse that
moves us.

Art is hope:
the laugh
that melts the
steel of winter.

As warmth may betray
the goals of
our reptilian
inner workings.

With patience
over eons
the double helix
Learns
the things we give away
are never lost
And then just as
all is lost
all is gained
as hunger
is the best spice:
The best way
to see
is
as the very dust of the earth.

So now it begins:
for me
and You.
In The Moment:
On our own Pretending
we set our feet upon pedals of paper
and steer a wheel
of dotted line faith
with spokes of
bitten up pencils
toward the sky


We just
Make bubbles
here in
The Direly Beautiful
Sea of Irony.

Take a breath
here?
wary Warrior
then set back on
The Journey
to the place where
The Sky
meets
The Sea.

Where all becomes
One
but moves on
as more than
the sum
of which it
was made

He came in at 3:00 in the morning and the first words out of his mouth after he had taken two steps into the building was:
"I am feeling great this morning! Do you know why I feel so good, friend? Becuase I am filled with the holy spirit of the lord in heaven, jesus christ himself thats why."

Then his needlessly loud voice, spitting words like a auctioneer, suddenly stopped and he transfixed his metallic, seemingly amphetamine induced, unblinking gaze unto mine and just starred. Aparently waiting for an an equally immediate response of similar mentally regurgitive aptitude.

I embraced the awkward silence, waited with a smirk on my face until his face twitched with anticipation and then I threw him a bone. "Alright!" I cheered, in the most flaccid recreation of enthusiasm i could muster.

He didn't miss a beat after I had finished speaking to begin his next psychological assault. "Whats wrong boy? You don't seem too excited about that. I come bearing good news. Don't you understand what the lord has given us if we accept him into our hearts? Eternal salvation. "

I shot him a look of canned amazement. "Now that's something to be excited about." I said with eyes as wide and unblinking as his.

"That's right. His promise makes me so excited I can't even hope to contain it. That's why I just gotta say it right now, right here in front of the whole world. I can't keep this inside. It's too good. Everybody needs to know about this kind of love, and I think you do too."

I resisted the urge to tell him just how common it was for a cashier to have to endure this type of ethnocentric bombardment and how every time I heard these types of words the more empty and clandestine they became. Instead I settled with a nice, safe standard retail zombie response: "You bet."

In what I had determined was their customary way of communicating verbally, I made sure to give my response the very nanosecond the man had stopped speaking.

The tiny earthquake of twitches beneath the man's face gave away his next move. This was it, he was about to throw down his trump card: "The bible tells us that those who do not accept Jesus into their hearts shall spend eternity in the lake of fire."

I did not look away from those fear mongering buggy eyes. I just gave him the ol' cocky eye brow bounce and kept eying him the way he was eying me only with a slight smirk (after all his theatrics were quite entertaining). I thought about asking him if he had ever seen Jesus camp but I didn't want to force feed him my position. However I really wanted to say something and I was getting tired of being completely passive to these people.

"Well every culture is entitled to their metaphysical opinion aren't they?" I said, nodding.

Apparently that was all he needed to hear. There was a slight look of "why I oughta'" but then it subsided. His mouth clenched, he seemed to blink for the very first time since I met him and then his face seemed to relax. Now he looked as if he finally realized he was merely "casting his pearls before the swine" Because then he asked me if we had showers.

I told him we didn't, but the truck stop at the Grayling exit did. He said thank you and then that was the last I saw of the man as he walked out the door and back into the darkness.

Hmmm.....”sins” you say? Well since I can be quite a pretentious naive naturalist noodlebrain I'm going to have to lay down my own exhaustive interpretation of what sin is before I answer. Feel free to lynch on whatever statements the micro-culture deems idiotic or inappropriate, any response welcome though I cannot promise a response.

First off I do not believe that Good and Evil exist in reality. They are abstract concepts that are used by humans to encourage a stable hierarchy. However the tree of knowledge can only grow in the soil of a stable hierarchy.

Sin is a term that it used to uphold a moral code of conduct. Every culture (yes even some non-human animal cultures) has different moral codes of conduct depending on the goals of its creators. So those creators label every behavior in their underlings that they see as detrimental to their cause as sins.

Now do I think that these 7 behaviors are detrimental to the society that we are a part of? Yes. Western civilization (in conjuction with the abrahamic views) was built off the goals of repressing these instincts and it seems to flourish when they are. Although these instincts (what many refer to as sins) are in place for a very practical reason (to preserve homeostasis in the wild) unfortunately for our biological tuning, living life in the large hierarchies of the modern era is very different from living in the reality our bodies have adapted to deal with. So wrestling against these impulses can be tricky sometimes. In the end though I'd have to agree with the Abrahamic traditions that this struggle has the potential to be highly rewarding.

Since I live in (and support) a capitalist country it almost goes without saying that I am guilty of Greed (on more levels than I wish to be conscious of).

Since I am a healthy young adult male living in a patriarchy: lust is par for the course (and apparently too "disturbing" and "unprofessional" to detail in a public forum).

Envy? No, I feel great that I live in a country where the roads are full of enormous speeding luxury vehicles with over sized chrome wheels and televisions in every headrest (thrift store bicycles are for “slothful” “losers” anyway).

I would be content to travel the country on a bicycle, supporting myself by working for food on farms along the way, and since I've been told it wouldn't be living up to my true potential, I guess I'm a slothful little undesirable.

Since I do not exist on 1500 calories of rice and vitamins everyday I must be guilty of gluttony. (My mate is also quite the little food-y and her delicious kitchen creations do not help this furry repress his desire for choice examples of sustenance)

When strangers come to my door or confront me in public and bombard me with ethnocentric “religious” propaganda and trite little mind games I find that it can be rather difficult to subside wrathful thoughts.

Pride? Well I am writing this monstrosity aren't I?

Oh and I was wondering if its not too much to ask if I just go ahead and add another sin here, just for the fun/blasphemy of it. Since sins seem to be descriptions of socially undesirable behavior I think this one counts. If it were a sin I think this one is the sin I am the most guilty of, though I'm sure it can be interpreted as one of the original 7 by someone who is more into that sort of thing.

The sin Fear (of man), since it completely dominates my life like some kind of twisted business manager on a legally prescribed amphetamine induced power-trip. There is not one moment that passes where I am not thinking about how someone who has no fear, such as manipulative powerful people with huge social and financial support networks will try to exploit me to fit their own desires (its happened in many personally traumatic social situations and with each new one the anxiety gets little more intense, and steadily more irrational). It is something that keeps me from trusting anyone, and as a result I can never give enough of myself to anyone to make them want to be my friend or interpret what they say in a way that is not potentially offensive. So I am working on it, and I'm hoping that writing this will at least help me with it.

In conclusion I hope this superfluous gaggle of text will reveal a little bit more about myself to anyone who has the time to care. Best of wishes to all fellow MiFur friends and a big thanks to Trouble for posting this fascinating example of social experimentation.

Once upon a naive-little-furry time I went to college with the lofty intentions of becoming a writer. I had whipped up over a hundred pages of horrendous overly descriptive sci-fi horror that I had hoped to share with the entire world. I must say: I really did enjoy writing it, and for a little while it was something I was extremely proud of. Then I received a multitude of eye-widening criticisms from people who were very important to me. Turns out I had a lot to learn. I fell off the pedestal I had built to inspire myself. I also lost contact with all of the people who showered me with unconditional praise and support. I had to start supporting myself then. Yes it hurt but it was The Truth and being humbled was a good thing for me as a writer and as a person. Unfortunately it did make my dreams feel much further away than they ever had before and my old ways of inspiring myself didn't work anymore. Finding hope is a little harder these days, but the truth is a bittersweet symphony and it rewards those who are brave enough to sing and dance through the entirety of its dynamic range. I tried to stay dedicated to my writing, but the nature of the activity took so much time for me to accomplish anything and eventually it was becoming clear that I was going to have to choose between it and someone I truly loved. I chose to be with the one I loved and I haven't written anything substantial or taken a college class since. But I will never stop learning.

If there is one thing that I have learned it is that I will never be able to match the level of irony that life is just completely riddled with: My hard drive crashed around that same time. That ivory tower that took countless hours of my life to construct was gone now. I didn't cry though somehow, I just smiled and thanked the universe for doing what I was too much of a coward to do for myself. It was time to move on.

Since then this highly spirited, socially disastrous, sheltered poor boy who harbored universes of passive bitter resentment for the seemingly egocentric conformist power hungry conservative fear mongers that seem to be placed at the top of every social hierarchy I am involved in..... is growing into an independent humbled bohemian naturalist who has figured out how to thrive away from people like that, much like my father before me. It took a very special and brave woman to love a man hiding in such a cozy "dark" convoluted cave for all his life and give him the strength to grow out in the "light" where the most interesting and frightening things occur.

She has shown me that even on the meager savings of a worker's wages a backwoods "backslider" with social phobia like me can see the world: I have lived in cities which I have always been taught to fear. I finally saw the mountains. I have seen the Ocean. I have flown in the skies and I have tilled the earth. These experiences have changed me.

I have seen that work does not have to be something that consumes me like the 7 years at the gas station, certain types of jobs that are accessible to less powerful people like me can actually be inspirational as well, and I'd take inspirational and underpaid over soul crushing and profitable any day.

Micheal Hurley

Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes stepping along
He don't even break the branches where he's been gone
you can hear his long holler from way across the moor
that's the holler of the werewolf when hes feeling poor

for the werewolf, for the werewolf:
have sympathy cause the werewolf hes somebody
like you and me
Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying
All alone I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying

Crying: "Nobody, nobody, nobody knows
How much I loved the maid, as I tear off her clothes"
Crying: "Nobody, nobody, nobody knows .....my pain
When I see that it's risen; that fool moon again"


Cat Power


Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes stepping along
He don't even break the branches where he's gone
Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying
I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying

Cryin': "Nobody knows, nobody knows, body knows
How I loved the man, as I teared off his clothes"
Cryin': "Nobody know, nobody knows my pain
When I see that it's risen; that fool moon again

For the werewolf, for the werewolf has sympathy
For the werewolf, somebody like you and me.
"And only he goes to me, man this little flute I play
All through the night, until the light of day, and we are doomed to play"

For the werewolf, for the werewolf, has sympathy
For the werewolf, somebody like you and me



Wish I could attempt to express my interpretation of these but I'm just too damn depressed right now....I think I need someone who has sympathy.

Any sympathetic werewolves in the vicinity? Or perhaps I should just say the same in a much older toungue: "AhhrRRroooooo"

Joy of joys, I'm actually going to be working tomorrow and its going to be doing stuff that I actually enjoy doing.

I was a giant Flock-up today though.....only turned in one application, discovered I do not posses the two forms of identification that is necessary to be legally employed, and to top it off I did not go refute this idiotic parking ticket. Hooray for more seemingly needless bureaucratic stresses.

In news of the creative centers of my brain: Just started reading Ozzy and Millie and I'm feeling rather inspired. I have half a notion to actually start rough sketching up some comic pages for some of the things I've been thinking about. Not the dark-gritty sci-fi one mind you (not gonna happen until I feel good about being a moody bastard again, which hopefully won't be soon), I feel this one should be more humorous, uplifting, and satirical.

ut oh....I have to be to work in 6 hours....I better get to sleep.

Wow, time to fill out more applications. Hooray for huge margins of wasted energy. It almost makes me feel good about using some of my energy here to write this for a change.

I'd like to know some people right now. Because in my experience the large majority of people who become my co-workers are people that the staff already knows. Life is totally fair like that. Ah such is the infinite joke of irony we all know and love.

I've sent out so many nob-damned emails with my resume its making me feel like some kind of fuzzy faced office worker. (Too bad conserva-monkeys would never give me an office job since there is some kind of conspiracy to get every office worker who has ever existed to wear poorly designed, extremely uncomfortable, high maintenance clothing on a daily basis while also maintaining an absurdly uptight extremely artificial demeanor and Obsessively compulsive level of grooming just to communicate to the "Superiors" that we are serious about our jobs.)

Oh boy, there I go again.....rambling.....not making any sense(LOL)....better go take my medication that the doctor I can't afford to have doesn't give me.

Today was interesting. I watched a man accidentally fire a nail gun into his left ring finger. It got stuck there. He pulled it out by himself, then copious amounts of blood gushed out into the snow.

Then I came home and slacked off, didn't fill out the billions of applications I need to in order to have the slightest chance in hell of getting a job a monkey could perform (hooray for the economy).

Still working on that commission for seffywuff. Getting close to done. Hope it's good enough that he'll give me some money....I've never been paid for a drawing before.

Looked through my old artwork last night. I'm tired of thinking my art is worthless, and its been so long since I've seen that stuff that I actually enjoyed looking at it. I was reading an old comic I made, and I took the macho cheesy/protagonist with amnesia filter in my brain out and actually enjoyed it for a change, how about that. So I feel that the experience gave me some much needed musefuel.

Now......If you'll excuse me, my room mate and I are going to go play with a chainsaw. Maybe I'll get to see some more blood. Hooray for power tools!

I don't even care anymore..... from now on I'm just going to type up whatever the frack I want to in this stupid journal that nobody reads. Anything I want. That's right, no rules, no censorship, just pure unbridled mindless self indulgence for all my fuzzy luvin' audience to behold (even if they only exist in my mind). Not even my horrifying self-stupifying behaviorally inherited paranoia is going to stop me now. Oh no no no, not this time my freeky-deeky spook spotting OCD other side. This time its all Me.....and um.....yeah I'm gonna say whatever I want.....whenever I want and I'm not going to think twice before I hit these mother-flipping keys. Even if I've always been an extremely emotional, socially sensitive, introverted, wussy ass ginger-balls of a man whos been hiding under the mask this society has had me make and wear to keep them feeling good about themselves. I'm way past being tired of double-triple thinking every action I do. Its time I took a stand and gave up this idiotic game I've been playing where I try to please every last human being I freekin' meet. Fock Them I now say. Yes that means I will be saying alot more stupid things but at least I will be saying some things.....instead of saying no things. Regardless of what the imfamous tyler durst may have said, I am a beautiful and original snowflake[/b]. So FOCK you Tyler, go find someone else who will let you cut them down so you can stand a little higher because that person isn't here anymore.

Wow, I was paid 20$ last week. I need a new job.

So hey yeah, I don't write enough. At one point in my life, actually two years ago, I had my heart dead set on becoming a writer. Imagine that. Now I don't even update my blog. Isn't that just the sadist thing ever? Boo hoo, whoa is me. Emo emo emo.
Anyway yes so here I am on break from the cafe eating outdated sandwiches from work. Mmm....tuna panini, my favorite. Plus a hummus wrap. Major scrum scrum in ma tum tum, yo. *does gangsta sign*
In other news: I was wearing my Radical Bunny shirt today and one of my co-workers said it was "scary." Whats scarry about a goofy looking cartoon bunny wearing sunglasses and looking like a total hippy drawing from the 70s? Then she said the key words......Anthropomorphic Animals (scare her) .....whoa....looks like we got ourselves a gen-u-wine Furophobe here folks. lol. I said it was just a cartoon and she was like, yeah cartoon animals are scary. lol. Oh man sounds like someone has given her the fear...... I think my girl friend has it too.....no doubt perpetuated by her friend from beaners. anyway....back to work I go....

A scanner darkly later I'm here thinking about the faces I've been seeing in the floorboards. Its the eye game. Its not that they were never there before its just that I never used to notice them. Every once in awhile I take a liking to drawing them. Amongst them I see the hints of lingering radiation from the chernobyle of cartoons seeping through the unconscious. WONDERSHOWZEN!

Night falls on Ann Arbor as "Za" and boxed wine descend wrathfully upon my gastrointestinal tract. Beneath blankets I'm scoffing at three hundred dollar bottles of wine the way my beloved bourgeoisie scoffs at drinking wine from a champaign flute. In my room, as I lay, Tom Robbins is putting up wall paper. He's there, if you Look, just beyond the peripheral. Romuus and Remus are suckling wolf teats on the label of an organic bottle of vinegar somwhere nearby. "Wolf Mother wall paper." Robbins whispers in the darkness. Then on the other hand theres Robin Williams in the form of a fruit bat and hes carrying on about animal testing somewhere outside of time, in the form of a song. Crazy bastard. Don't you think Terry Gilian had it right when he cast him as the king of the cosmos in Baron Munchausen?

By the way, seen the movie Fern Gulley lately?