text comic 1

pane 1: A small child stands in the snowy street on an afternoon with a sign that says: $5/Free.
pane 2: A young man walks up and asks, "What does that mean?"
pane 3: The child says, "Scrape ice off your windshield, $5. Refuse my offer, Free kick between the legs."

haiku 3

I am an actor.
All real and believable.
Please hire me now.

haiku 2

This guitar is new.
I should stick to learning it.
I might just fail, though.

haiku 1

Soupy drinks a lot.
He smokes cigarettes, too. sigh.
Then he drinks some more.

my new poem

eeny meeny miney moe,
catch a soupy by the toe.

if he hollers let him go,
cause chances are he's pretty mad and he'll punch you in the privates if you don't stop.

journal entry

I knew a fellow who kept a small leather journal. I can only surmise what he wrote in it: poems, ideas, a list of people to kill. He would only use pencil and when it was full he would go back and erase it all from the first page to the last. He said it was like recycling, but after a while the pages just turned from white to gray with bits of eraser all over them. Eventually they would fall out, but he kept on writing. When asked why he didn't use an inkpen he would grunt and bark back in a gruff voice, "Too permanent."

Dec. 30, 2006

i am at the juncture of bordeom and apathy.
drifting deliriously between consciousness and the opposite.
in the good company of working mental transmissions.
chewing on a straw and staring blankly into space.
i'm glad i learned that at an early age.
it's like a library except you can talk loudly, drink coffee, and smoke cigarettes.

can't think anymore.