Somebody STOP MEH.

No, actually. Please stop me. I have work to do.

Albert the felafel elf was walkin down the street
He passed by some falafels and said, “Good! I need to eat!”
He got so fat that when his friends passed by him, they would call:
“Fella, you are one falafel-full elf, Al!”

Al the fat falafel elf was walking on a ledge
His friend the fat falafel cat was too close to the edge
He braced his fat felafel self and pushed but kitty caught himself, and said,
“If I fall off, Al, feel awful, I’m fulla falafel.”

Al and his falafel cat were fixing food for fun
When Dirty Dan the Stealer tried to steal their meal and run!
They foiled his flee with joy and glee, his plan reduced to null.
“We foiled you! Foo! Laugh, foe, laugh all, for your falafel fail is folley-full!”

Al, Dan and the falafel cat were flying through the air
When suddenly, more planes came by and gave them quite a scare
Al climbed out back and reached his hands out, while he was there he could hear Dan shout,
Fall aft, Al! Feel if all fell off, Al!

Dan and Al and their cat friend were falling through the sky,
Dan simply did not want to think it was his time to die,
He cried, as fast approached his earthen death like a great wall,
Allah, full of all, my fateful life can’t end in this fright-filled falafel fall!

Falafel cat, on other hand, was ready for his fate,
He knew in heaven there would always be food on his plate.
He’d eat piles and piles of tasty food, like pita chips and challah,
“I’m fine!” He said, “I’m free-falling with Al towards free falafel in falafel Valhalla!”

Tea Snake Lady

Another thing. Snakey is made out of teabags and tea because I drank too much and was over-caffeinated.

Also, more art

Here’s stuff that I drew. Apologies for sucky photo quality.

Bald self-portrait with weird boobies

Eminem in Casual Evening Wear

 

Jude Law sporting a ruffly shirt

He can see into your soul

Roomies

 

Lost Passages

or, Dream Diary of Les Livres des Merveilles du Monde.

Two voices, lost in the woods
Come nearer me and mark over.
Two explorers, half-digested by the too-big, too-ferocious wild, 
Mark over your path behind you
and you’ll never find it again.
So strange the primal wilderness in concrete forms, abstracted.
Leaving breadcrumbs as a path for Others because like pawns, we must go ever forward
Mark over, a sacrifice for those who may follow quicker and pad over the point where you lie buried in the peaty mud.
Mark over.
Mark over.

Two ends of the Earth, two poles
Mark over
Two poles over opposing ends
Cannot exist in the same, but feel the other.
Dead Father, Dead Uncle,
Mark Over, Pole Over.

For Katy

You, who saved my childhood in your eyes,
You, whose song throughout the cosmos cries,
Do not be troubled by the death of kings,
Do not fall victim to the little things.

Yes, you are the child of vim and vale,
As are all others who have lost the trail,
Through you, the fundamental Word still rings,
Do not fall victim to the little things.

The carnal weight pulls heavy on your soul,
But do not pay the slings and arrows toll.
Be wounded, yes, but fight with vicious swings
Do not fall victim to the little things.

Your eyes can see abeyant prophecies,
The dreams of forests and the face of trees
Do not let candlelight your pupils sting
Do not fall victim to the little things.

Our primal mother through your body springs
To you, the great ancestral force still clings
When last the closing note the spider sings,
Do not fall victim to the little things.

June 5th, 2012

I loved you before I knew what it meant and before society hid its meaning behind veils of sexual taboo. Everything you did was so unashamed and wonderful, and through the voice of glowing blue orbs and golden-eyed Martians, you taught me it was okay to be human. I remember your words spoken from my mother’s mouth, and as I read you now I remember summer nights on the waterbed, grasping at understanding and trailing away on a thought about rockets blazing orange trails across a purpling Waukegan sky. I never knew farm-life or religion, but I knew that both could be beautiful and dangerous. I never knew people until you brought them to me in a tin-can soaring through outer and inner spaces alike. The universe is benevolent and not indifferent. You saved me from the bitter atheism of my generation. You saved me from resentment and hostile coffee-shop intellectuality, because now I know how to respect all things, because you showed me the insides of their heads and that they’re only just like me. And I miss you, and I miss knowing that you’re somewhere, but because of you I know that you’re everywhere, and when I tell stories in my head, I’m telling them to you.

On the day that you died, Venus was passing far above the Earth. Perhaps you were caught in its shadow and pulled into orbit on your way up. It may not be Mars, but I’m sure you’ll make do.

Orange

The rain outside sounds like tiny people creeping through the garden. He avoids eye contact, instead focusing on the painting on the South Wall. It’s painted in warm sunset colors. The grey sky from the window opposite melts the colors to shades of muddy brown which leak down the wall onto the blue airport-lobby carpet…
“Doc,” he says, his voice breaking. He clears his throat. “Doc, I think he’s back.”

Her brow creases and she shifts slightly on the chaise-lounge.

“Have you been taking your medication?” The man glances quickly up then looks back down at his shaking fingers.
“I think I might need a higher dose.”

“I can up your dosage to 750 mg, but after that I’m going to have to refer you to the pharmacologist.” She reviews the notes on her clipboard.

“John,” she says, frowning. “Is he…hurting you?”

“No,” he says, with a desperate laugh. “No, he’s not hurting me.” She waits for him to say more, but he remains silent.
“Do you need to talk to me, to discuss anything else?”

“No. I just—I just need to up the dosage. That’s all. That’s all I came in for—“ He pauses for a moment, then becomes silent again. She leans forward and raises her eyebrows, waiting. He says nothing.

“Alright. John, I’m going to give you two numbers. The first is my cell phone number, and you can call me at any time. The second is the number of Doctor Mulder, the pharmacologist. If you have any problems with the medication, you need to call her right away.” The man nods quickly into his hands and stands up. He thanks the woman and walks out of the room without looking up.

The keys fall from his hands and onto the front porch when he takes them from his pocket. He leans over to pick them up. The back of his jacket lifts up and the rain falls out of the hood of his raincoat onto the back of his head. He lets out a muffled shriek and the woman next door looks up from her seat on the couch, outside. Her cigarette smoulders in the damp air. He raises his left hand as he rights himself and smiles nervously. She continues to stare as he shuffles inside the dark house.

The pills taste bitter and stick to the back of his tongue, but he is used to it. Fond of it, even. It tastes like hope and comfort, like normality. He hasn’t had a relapse like this in years, not since Shirley left him. He told himself that he would never let it get that bad again. He likes the taste of the medicine, the bitterness; nevertheless, he is always nauseous in the morning when he dry-swallows, so he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge to get a drink. He freezes, his hand still glued to the door of the refrigerator.  The shaking starts in his hand, then overtakes the rest of his body until he is on the floor, quivering violently. On the top shelf is a bottle of low-pulp orange juice.

He only drinks pulp-free.

Household Tips for the Modern Secret Society Member

Household Tips for the Modern Secret Society Member (Published in Illuminati Press, September 1996 ed., issue no. 1453)

For dull, lusterless wood tables:
1. Remove your robe and stand naked on top of your table.
2. Douse yourself in snake oil and roll around on top of the table. Be sure to cover the entire surface evenly, as any unevenness will result in a patchy end product.
3. Replace robe.
4. If the first coat is drying unevenly, use old or tattered robes to polish the surface of the table while it is still wet.

For Spotty Linoleum Floors:
1. Draw a standard masonic compass in the exact middle of your floor.
2. Sacrifice a small rodent over the center of your compass and smear the blood in each of the four corners of the table. For difficult stains, use a goat or other large mammal. Be sure to save the entrails for future haruspices.
3. Scrub the compass and blood from the table.

For Rusty Appliances:

1. Stand in front of affected appliance.
2. Sing the lyrics to any Lady Gaga song backwards while popping your booty like Rihanna. For water marks, use “Disco Heaven.” For gummy faucets, use “Alejandro.”

Also, new new masks. I’ll post them up as I get pictures.

Triolent

I crave the chaos brought by tragedy,
I wear each sorrow like a separate sin
Rejoicing in the wake of malady.

Each aching sad I eagerly soak in,
In sensuous solitude, I play my part
My nodes engorge; the rest of me grows thin.

Yet even while the grieving makes its art,
The entropy brings structure to my ploy
Like playing with an arrhythmatic heart.

No likely end my appetite can cloy
I‘d rather feel it deep within my gut
Than leave it for the cosmos to enjoy.