drawins!

right before i left for cali, my favorite slab of wichita concrete.

venice beach, los angeles.  this was my view at breakfast every morning.

Indica and Miha, my friends' dogs.  Miha woke up before i could finish 'er.

badass kids in culver city, lame-ass smudges.  greg's hiding in the corner.

sunshine.  my favorite venice hippie.  some other kid wrote the poem...

sleepin on the hill.  woke up before i could finish him, damn you.

another muscle beach breakfast drawing.

first morning in sacramento.  the face and gun are kristofer's.

started out as a drawing of auburn...evolved into japan.  still happening.

emerald cup graffiti.  still colourin.

only wichita observation drawing since i've been back. 

i didn't say that, he did.

farewell friends.

california for a month.

(hell yes.)

Currently Reading Hell's Angels By Hunter S. Thompson see related

go back home?

yay or nay?

[i vote yay.]

alright.
i admit it.

i really want some brand new
jeans.

everytime i inhale oxygen it
smells like manure and i
can't stop coughing.

i have been far too verbose
and frank
lately.

"you know, they say shizophrenia doesn't really set in until atleast your twenties."
             he looked on with concern as i laughed, actually laughed about hallucinations.

1 strawberry is equivalent to
3 radishes, which are in turn equal to
1/30 of a cantelope.  throwing in a can of
aerosol whipped cream with the
50 strawberries simply prompts a
fold.
20 radishes = 1 pound of grapes
but one of those really nice big red tomatoes
is the same as what, 50 pounds of grapes?

i bet the farm.

(and obviously, too much bukowski prompts too many sporadic page breaks when all you're trying to do is ramble thoughtlessly about your day with no thought for poetry.  hum.)

Currently Listening Brighten The Corners By Pavement see related

automatic arguement.

L: tarter sauce!
B: crem brulee!
B: creme*
B: i can't mispell a french word.
B: although i suspect i spelled brulee wrong
L: ah ha!
B: ah ha?
L: yes.
L: ah and then follow it up with ha.
B: well, fiddle-sticks.
L: no, crem brulee!
B: yeah!  pink icing!
L: ah ha!
B: ha ah!
L: pink?
B: not yellow?
L: of course yellow, because the goose liver is not for my liver!
B: what the fuck!  liver never tasted better than with a side of yellow.
L: yellow cannot compare to liver, becasue pate du foie gras is the pink, with a little side of jaundice. SO there you have what we started this whole conversation with, PINK! ( but only for that fat cats)
B: mais malgre moi, i don't think i can ever detest that particular shade of pink...the yellow compliments the heart-line in my palm.  as for the jaundice, i emplore you, speak for yourself only and not the mutton!
L: By Pere Ubu's green leaf! You are the shitts! I for one can only dance to puppies and no, I emplore you my dear. Emplore, more like topography!
B: topography!  why, hell's bells!  this insn't a democracy!  swimming in photography and geography....when will junior ever learn to finish off his please?  peas, make me a decision.
L: Your bells can tounge my balls and not only that put please display your so called favorite colors of pink and "yellow," for Hell will only become hotter and never freeze over.  You peas...please.
B: please?  peas and fuck you very much.  peace.  green is a more suitable tone for this time of night, seeing as you've already broken out the tongue, you miserable leather glove.
L: I have two miserable leather gloves and night? NIGHT? Peace please all over you peas and come out of this color scheme, green is nothing but Greece, butt geeks have more of a grasp on their old fucks than you do on oyur new fucks!
L: DAMN! no... your....
L: I loose.
B: actually, i'm pretty sure you win.
L: i mispelled a word.
B: damn.
L: i loose.

Lavah cannot spell.

Currently Listening Psychocandy By The Jesus and Mary Chain see related