Friday, December 06, 2002



So it just hit me that I've been spending more and more of my time doing absolutely nothing. Nothing. Me. Even when I'm sitting around APPEARING to do nothing I have a pen poised in hand and a notebook in front of me waiting for me to channel a story into it from the mysterious ether of my sub-consciousness. Lately, however, I've fired up the computer and chatted with everyone, but done NOTHING. I look for jobs, but no one's hiring. I sit in my pajamas and stare out the window at the wind-ripped surface of the retention pond outside. Maybe all my thoughts are being sucked out into those murky depths, eaten by the turtles and seaplants that lurk under the brackish water.

I'm afraid of dying here, to be honest. Afraid that if I stop being creative I'll lose everything that makes me who I am. I fear the lack of change on the wang. I stare in frustrated disbelief at the content lackies surrounding me, happy in their mundane existence, unknowing and uncaring that there might be more to life than mindless overwork without pay, liquid sunshine, and a choice of clubs that all play the same music and cater to the same crowd. I wonder at how people can honestly go about daily life with no challenge and be happy. Every day I realize more and more why people come to Florida to die. They jump into the safe little box, throw on their blinders, and it's a straight, unquestionable line to the grave. Granted, not EVERYONE on the wang is like that, but a LOT of them are. At least on the shaft of the wang. Dunno about the head and balls of it.

As we were driving through a town I can't even remember the name of, there was a mural on the side of a building-- some bar, I think-- and the mural was a plane crashed into the side of the building, done in Florida pastels. Underneath the plane was written "9-11-01 We will never forget. God Bless America!" Is that all it was to the people living here? A fading memory? Something to fill up their newstime with? Something to gasp about and claim that their distant cousin or friend's cousin worked in the Towers?

Seeing the mural made up my mind. I definitely want to go home. Home to where we're all haunted still, be it by memories or ghosts, but haunted, which proves we're still alive. Home to the REAL. Where the amount of bullshit is a corporate formality and not to be taken seriously, but if you stand by the coffee maker you'll find the truth. Here they spoon-feed bullshit, and power-trips, and expect you to swallow it for less than half the pay with almost the same housing costs. The mantra is "If you don't like it, there's the door."

Sad thing is that that "door" only opens up to an exact replica of the same room you just left. It's a state where the businessman is king, and fuck all the worker people. You don't like it? There's the door. Bully tactics of small businesses that think they're big. Capitalism at it's worst. There's wetlands red tape all over the area, yet there's no requirement on cars to have catalytic converters or to even be inspected. The area is filled with endangered wildlife, you would think they would do more to protect it. There's only so many letters to my congressman I can write.

Monday, December 02, 2002



OK.. So this one is for Adamantium and his dealings with the public. Stop if you've heard this one before...

Lady walks into Adam's place of work and asks him for a print of Jesus and a lighthouse. He's telling me this story and I'm thinking she wants separate prints, but NO. She wants a print of Jesus AND a lighthouse. She describes this picture to him and apparently it's a stormy sky, saying I suppose that Jesus is NOT a fairweather friend, and he will be your lighthouse on rough seas, and la la la. Yay, JC. Poor guy hasn't suffered enough, now he's gotta be sold in prints of him and a Maine lighthouse??

I told Adamantium to tell the woman that it is historically IMPOSSIBLE for such a picture to exist, that Maine and modern-day lighthouses were nowhere NEAR discovered/invented at the time of Jesus-- not to mention FILM for a print. Adamantium did the more professional thing and sent her on her merry way to the Christian bookstore around the corner instead.

Sooo... the holidays are almost over...I'm still stuck on the wang and can't get home for Christmas since NO ONE IS BUYING MY FUCKING BOOKS OR PRINTS OR DONATING TO MY CAUSE!!!! You think that fucking site is FREE??

Do me a favor, seriously... Go to my site and click that Donation button. Even a dollar will get me one step closer to home for the holidays. If you've enjoyed my writings, donate, dammit. If I made you laugh or feel like part of a crowd, please... help me out. I'm out of a job, I'm out of patience, and I want to GO BACK TO NY!!! :(

OK.. I'm done sounding like a charity case... even though I sort of AM a charity case... but I always did depend on the kindness of strangers. I should get my own TV telethon... Send The Smiling Goth back to Gotham!! I promise not to interfere with regularly scheduled shows unless they're dumb.