Monday, October 18, 2010
One of those sleepless nights again...
The door crashed open as loud as a thunder storm! He had been listening to Nirvana and painting right before that. With a big fright red paint was flung everywhere. "What the fuck!" he protested to the intrusion. "Where's my fucking money asshole!" the stranger yells as he pins the painter on the floor. "Where's my fooking money, gaw gaw gawd, damn it!" he stutters.
"Ok, ok man." The painter replies holding a paint bush, dripping red paint on the floor. The stranger starts to get up while looking around the small apartment. The painter takes a deep breath and starts to get up from off the ground by rolling over and putting the hand with the paint brush on the floor first. "Damn it man" half talking to his paint brush.
"On second thought..." the stranger pause for a second,"how about I just take one of your paintings?"
Wouldn't you know it? He takes the one that meant the most. Then as the stranger is half way out the doorway he stops. Turns slowly.
"This is going to be worth a lot more once you're dead."
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A Bike Ride Can Do Wonders
Thursday, September 16, 2010
In the thoughts of a mad dumb genius
There, lying on the ground, was the insole of someone's shoe. Their soul laying about on the sidewalk of dusk. On fire from the red, yellow, and orange heat coming from the setting sun. In people's brain there are electrons that spark your whole life. We've also been told that the soul is pure energy. What if your soul is the electrons in other peoples brains? Your soul is the thoughts and image of you in other people. Or the impression you leave with somebody even if you don't know them? Would that makes us all connected?
We will have to take a better look at this theory. Have a study on the inner workings of the human brain. Does anyone have any idea of what we are talking about?
Monday, August 16, 2010
Glass of Water
A bead of sweat ran down his leg and it felt like little wet bugs. His mind scream to the point where everything else fell silent. His armpits reek like the Bush administration and his beard itch with frustration. The city had become a shit hole of lost dreams and talent. Or had it always been a shit hole?
The place was pack with drunks and aggression. He was alone in the crowded room. His thoughts were far from his location. He knew it wasn't his kind of place or people. Maybe it was a lack of trying to fit in, but people avoided talking to him. He stood there for what felt like a life time before he left...
Then, he was gone...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
the secret hides within...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
quick change in plans
he wanted to scream. that's a good start. all his frustrations and anxiety were starting to take ahold of him. still not finding work, not knowing what to do with his car, not having anyone to really talk about it. none of that really had any part of his worries. no. the fact that he wasn't scared or nervous is what made him worried. trying to ask him questions was like trying to... well, you never know with him. he holds everything in and puts up a front.
on the other hand he has been taking ample amount of pictures. he is learning to play music again. he said he read a line in a woody guthrie book that read something like this: "a painting you can only sell once, but a song people will pay you to play it again." maybe we need to read the quote because not sure if that makes any sense.
click on the picture to view lots more, fun...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
No one saw it coming. It was a dark and gloomy night, the kind where you're not sure if it's going to rain or not. He went to Artslam! after all his protest. He had finished his painting and not one offer to buy him a drink was ever given. Even if the girls were getting offer of over $70 for unfinished art but fuck it.
A few days before that he had done paintings that even impress himself.
but those will be for another day...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
things i don't remember
Saturday, January 2, 2010
it is what it is...
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