pixel rust

Tea Time

Care for a spot of tea?

Because it's wrong

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

And wrong can sometimes be funny.

Game On!

Atari is like a bad 80's sitcom, it's waaaaaaay better in memory then in real life.

And it should never be made into a movie.

Shit

Man, I freakin' hate it when that happens.

Go go Godzilla

Yep.

The Red Lion

Another night around town.

studio time

Hanging in the studio wishing for a tripod.

Pillowy death awaits

The mattresses of L.A. rise from the street corners at night and sneak into the houses of the unknowing, creeping on springs and foam. Slowly they suffocate their prey, screams of horror muffled by sky blue satin padding.

The only way to truly kill a mattress once it has gone wild is to cut off it's tags. During they day while they rest and are sluggish is the best time. Otherwise they will rise and eat your young.

Trust me, I know this. For I am their Hunter.

It is my Duty.

whisky and ice

/:|:....................:|:\

.......................

Zen

<><><><><><><><>

Drumming

Sunlight at sunset makes for fun drumming.

Somehow or another.

thirst

So thirsty.

Monkey

The monkey can play guitar. He can play quite well. We just need to find a way to keep him out of the backseat after a night in the bars.

Dumb monkey.

After the storm

Underground, we wait where we cannot be discovered, where we can be allowed to grow without greedy hands picking our best fruits before they ripen.

Solitude and beer

I forgot how much I love solitude.

Remember to relax

Breath deep, smell the wood.

Saves the day

Luckily for you, the giant animatronic Cold Stone Steve Austin fought off the Evil Robot Overloads with a coffee stir stick and a packet or non-dairy creamer.

For the record, I always new humanity would triumph. Please disregard my last post as "sarcasm".

Umm, yeah.... hi.

I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords with open arms.

(psst, hey bud, I got a quart of oil over here if you hook me up with a easy gig.)

Hmm, something floats out of range.

Right over there above, barely above the tree line. If you look out my offices windows you can see it every now and then. It is a strange and flitting thing, almost like a bird but bigger. Every time I catch a glimpse of it I feel as if I am waking from a dream. A slow fluorescent light fixture blue dream poured over my mind. Thick like molasses muddying my thoughts. Humming it’s computer fan mantra in my ear. It builds up day after day like frozen sheets of rain down window. Everything is blurred, washed out and bland.

But every now and again I catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. I never have seen it directly or up close. I catch a glimpse and like a switch is flipped I see colors again. I notice smells. I feel my legs numbed from hours of cheap office chairs. My eyes focus on something farther away than a monitor. I noticed my coffee burnt breath and shallow breathing.

I stand close to window, wanting to be closer. Needing it like a drug. Having felt a brief tear in the spell I want to find this thing like one wishes for a hammer in a glass store.

I leave two oval patches of moisture from my nostrils on the glass that slowly fades away in the air-conditioned cell of my office. The moment has passed.

The phone rings.

details overlooked till it's too late

I didn't mean to be rude.

I just really did not think that you would mind very much. I certainly did not think you would fly off the handle like that. Then drive down to the gym with a axe handle and wait for people in the bathroom. Slowly piling up the limp, bleeding bodies in a back stall till only two people were left looking at each other and waiting for the other to leave.

How was I supposed to think of that?

Analog

I can smell the greese, gas, wd-40 and ammonia.

If you were ever there, you would know.

better

Just a friendly reminder that having a job sucks.

Needing more of what was forgotten

Sometimes in the darkest part of the morning she would lie awake and pray for a lover to wrap his arms around her.
He was never bearded, white or nailed to a cross. But he had blisters on his fingers from playing guitar.
She remembers the dream more vividly than her own childhood.

Breakfast of Champs

Tasty.