Read this fantastic graphic novel last night by the name of Wormwood.
The Antichrist defying his father, a foul mouth, talking rabbit who harasses Star Wars fans online, Jesus who has a mild concussion and drinks Guinness, God a drooling and masturbating complete nutter... can this comic have been created totally FOR me? I laughed the whole time. Who knew I could seriously get addicted to this. I am geeking out, big time. Wow. Next I'll be downloading Linux and hackin' yourz internets while drinkiing Code Red and torrenting asian lesbian anal porn.
I also researched more urban street art. But not so much the beauty aspect of it. More like the How To's, you know, in the event I want to give spray painting some stencils on the sides of buildings downtown at 3am a try. Key would be to not dress like a criminal or carry anything that looks like a backpack with spray paint cans and such in it, this way if stopped, I am just a mild mannered housewife, walking home from, uh, something (not a crack house), or having stopped on the side of the road, uh, for something else (not crack). I will get one of those super cute beach bags from target, wear a sarong maybe, or a casual dress made out of cotton, flip flops. I work better in these types of uniforms any way, it serves a dual purpose here.
"What do you say officer? Spray paint? No, just a few beach towels and my Cosmo magazine in here."
When you take mania out of the equation, the end result is: I would like to get a couple of pieces of particle board or plywood for the backyard to create on. I tried this in 2006 and it was a total bust. I had no clue what I was doing, my spray paint creations looked worse than paraplegic kindergarten finger paintings.
Note: Since I stopped eating meat five years ago, I have steadily slid down a slippery slope of PC wordplay. I am not apologizing; this is merely an observation.
One of the things I learned last night was how to hook up LED lights to batteries and magnets so one could make them throwable and sticky to metal surfaces. I have been racking my brain trying to think how I can use this to my creative advantage somewhere in the city. Of course I can make and throw a bunch somewhere but that's not really the point is it? Or maybe it is. Maybe some time later I will decide that is the point. Either way, I want to make some. For something. Soon. They look so damn cool at night. Like fireflies.
All of this discussion around the house of bail and bondsmen got me thinking about death (there was some sort of linkage I cant recall at the time of this writing, a more flowy linkage too, not just "hey make sure you bail me out" and "oh about that whole end of my life shit"...). I think that somehow the knowledge that I am not dying of any disease, keeps me pretty much on the train tracks. If I was to ever be diagnosed with cancer, I am not so sure this would remain the case. 2 out of 4 family members agree, 1 family member was absent at voting time and 1 is too young to consider such possibilities of life, therefore one can arrive at a 100%, total agreement: if I ever come down with the cancer, tornadoes will make less messes out of their surroundings. Its almost appealing in a way, to have a set amount of time left, because, why wait to do anything; think it, fuck it, do it NOW now now now.
But I AM dying.
We are all dying.
So yea. Fuck it.
I hope I get to keep the orange jumpsuit and booties when I get released. They still give those out as parting favors, right?