Three ways to end a creative block, right this very instant.

noncomplianceFirst of all, sit down. Clear a place on the couch and sit your ass down. Creative blocks are evil. I mean evil, wicked, bad things that get all of us at some point. I hate when it happens, and the worst is when you get into that feedback loop- you know, worrying about it and trying to start working on stuff, but it won’t come, so then you worry some more, then try and you still can’t do anything, and so you worry…that worry and fear is the root of it, sometimes, and it can turn into a neverending battle.

Other times a block isn’t really a block- it’s that you have fed your head so much that it is still processing. You’ve taken in a lot of inspiring work or ideas lately from other artists, and now your brain needs some down time in the dark to ferment it all into delicious beer. (or bread. whatever.) Either way, you can end it. You actually can end it, but it’s going to suck, just like breaking down a real wall sucks and is heavy work. It’s not easy but it’s pretty much dead simple. (more…)

Print edition of essays!

51E8o9iuGgL._AA200_Real, actual ink on paper!

Here they are. In all their unvarnished glory.

Buy one for yourself and one for your auntie.

Or just one for yourself! Who am I to judge.

Contains rants about art, explanations of various tattoo things, stories about tattooing, about squatting, and about zines. Also contains some taxidermy info, essays about madness, and more.  A ton more! 166 glorious pages!

My next book will likely be the horror/cryptid coloring book. You can find individual downloads of the pages here if you like.

three poems.

I’ve got a book coming out this week. The chapbooks are already sold out (I’m keeping a few for later) but it’ll be on kindle as well (very cheaply, because it’s poetry, and who needs poetry.) There’s about a hundred poems in it and the chapbook/for real version has illustrations (but the kindle does not). Several other of my poems are here online, if you like that kind of thing.

 

Here are three poems from that book.

shovels in the sun

outside the little taco stand at 13th street and juniper I met

this bum, this grifter

lying on his side by the beer vomit, he was fooling around with the drawstring on his

grey, thin sweatpants

I sat there waiting. They didn’t have a waiting area, no tables inside. no Loitering.

“I went to the sun.” he told me. “there is a lake there, but it ain’t a regular lake. it’s fire, all fire.”

I smoked. He kept on at me, “Once, I went there. You can’t stay long. It’s hot you know. all the fire. all fire…”

His face creased. His hands started rolling imaginary coils of paper, clacking dirty nails together.

My taco order came up. So I got the bag and sat back down. I had nowhere to be.

“if you get to go to the sun, watch out. they’ll try to trick you. I had to escape, they’re assholes there.

I want to warn you, but they’re listening, right now.”

He pointed at the sky.

“well, what can they do from there?” I had to know. “shoot fire at us?”

“they’ll come and get me, take me back there. I said too much already. shit.”

He stopped. His hands sat now still on the concrete next to the vomit and some bird shit.

“have a taco.” I handed him one.

he nodded but didn’t look at me again.

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Goodbye Blue Monday

Kurt Vonnegut died today.

I will never get to talk with him, or read something new he’swritten, or meet him in person, or hear another interview, or…anything!!!

I’m officially in mourning. Vonnegut was the best living writer during my lifetime. He was an amazing, kind, intelligent, and funny author and human being.

Even though I never knew him personally, I will miss him. I’m grieving for the loss of his humor and concern for humanity.

I once swore to my mother that I’d never write anything important because Kurt Vonnegut would say it for me. I suppose this means I have to start writing now.

Goodbye, Blue Monday, and

“God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, “Sit up!”
“see all I’ve made, “said God,”the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.”
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud!
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
“Nice going, God!
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have!
I feel very unimportant compared to you!
The only way I can feel the least bit importnt is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!”
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.”

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