Dream: gunball

I dreamt I burst into a crowded bar with some sort of a machine gun in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. I yelled to announce my arrival, and when that failed to garner much attention, I shot some holes in the ceiling. I started to wave the paper around and demand to know who wrote the few partial sentences on it. It was some sort of half-baked philosophical statement on human existence. It became clear, and somewhat bewildering to my lucid self, that the primary reason for my toting a gun into a public place was to engage people in a philosophical discussion. The bar patrons were not interested. Most ignored me and my gun. A few started to leave. I shouted about how they couldn't in my best wild-west, to no avail. Not wanting to kill anyone I shot at an outward bound calf muscle. I then learned that my gun shot what appeared to be white gumballs at a very sluggish velocity. I gave up.

Sketchbook: january, february

jan17....................................................................jan19


jan28.....................................................................feb07

Monsters of Their Own Bedrooms

I don't know what to say, really. but, this seems to be what people want to see. no irony. no glossy stardom. "reality." jerry springer, reality tv, american movie, youtube clips, monsters of their own bedrooms. celebrities are too easy to knock down. eminem's winning rap in 8 mile.

or don't bother with my psuedo-anthropological meanderings and just enjoy some good flop-crotch.

Bill Watterson: interview

I used to fantasize about making a "Searching for Bill Watterson" sort of documentary, driving around ohio in a van. But, I thought about how upset he'd be if I showed up on his lawn with cameras rolling. So I didn't do it.

But he's an interview with him.

via yewknee {happy birthday!}