Shoes, shirts, skies and eyes.
Everybody showed up, only to find out they had already died.
No tears fell. Only bodies.
They stood and watched while the invaders partied.
Lights flashed and music started, the horizon was alight with exploding constellations.
The ground gave way to gaseous clouds of purple that shifted through the blood red sky like poisoned cotton candy ready to rip the soul from anyone who had the misfortune of inhaling them.
All in office proceeded to higher ground, higher ground was quickly reduced to rubble and ash. Not one single earthly representative was safe in it’s path.
We who survived, and that is to say the two of us have used our time to reflect, plan and most importantly, to move forward.
We never should have come here..
Shoes, shirts, skies and eyes.
Is everything really relative? I mean a kid with no food. That’s not relative. Nothing is nothing. Wealth is relative though. Weird.
I pondered this for about 55 seconds while working on another piece of work and boy is it a piece of work. I sit here and think about just what makes me think what merit anything I’m doing really has.
Well to be honest, that’s just the thing, as long as it means something to me then it should be written right? That’s not to say every thought should be jotted down and that’s where we are in society.
Nobody can say or do something without it being documented. No one is discovered anymore. People can go out and show themselves to the people who can make them rich.
Cool right? I don’t fucking know. It seems that with an influx of people with access to cheap tools that allow them make art, we get a whole lot less art. The things that rise to the top and gain the most exposure continue to be the things that always have.
Let’s face it, sex sells and it always will. I’m rambling again. I’m not gonna sit here and act like I don’t watch porn but you are fucking lying to yourself if you think Katy Perry is famous for her oratory skills. Her talents lie elsewhere.
I had a cool note to end this on but now I’ve fucking lost my point in the haze of other thoughts and will re-visit this later on when I have things in order.
Until then, chaos.
The dead tree smiles knowingly at all the things man cannot see for it knows all the secrets buried deep that man can only keep once he falls asleep in the ground beneath his feet…
#sticker and #zine #production #explodingbuffalo #art #diy #vinyl
You know those two stretchy things that connect your bottom lip to your jaw?
Right before Christmas 2006, Johnny King — A friend at the time, punched me so hard that he separated my lip from one of those connections.
There was a large hole in my lip and the swelling in my face earned me the nickname “Kanye” that Winter.
I’m not a vengeful man but whenever I start to think I’m a good person, I keep in mind that I’ve wished death upon him about 57,000 times since that Christmas.
I think about what sort of payback would be the worst. I don’t think I actually would harm his kids if I saw them but the thought of how much pain it would cause him puts a smile on my face.
Why? I don’t know.
If I was a vengeful man and I did hurt him, he would have to know it was me…
Otherwise, what’s the point?