Category Creativity

Apr 14 2011

Tales of the Blue Clown

New, ongoing story to be posted weekly, or whenever the hell I feel like it really. When all is said and done, it should run about 20 parts… Hope you’ll check it out…

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PART 1:

My initial instinct was to let the whirlpool take me away into cocoon like nether regions of the slumbering void, deeper and deeper down the drain until nothing was left of me but perhaps a faint ghost or shadow of my flickering memory. Like Alice I would go down the rabbit hole only to reemerge who knows where. When the realization of absolute nothingness set in, I began to struggle for my life, a fish caught in a net with no chance of escape, a firefly trapped in a mason jar. Despite all the mystical powers and tricks at my disposal, it wasn’t every day that you were caught in the dominant grasp and raging tide of a spiraling Black Hole at the center of the universe.

-CONTINUED-

Mar 25 2011

The Artist Who Lived Naked with Hundreds of Pigs

You look in disbelief. Are you really seeing what you think you are? It is a woman, nose to snout, skin to skin, nude, with hundreds of 500-pound pigs grown in an industrial farming barn. Yet there is a strange beauty about the scene, a sense of oneness between the pigs and the woman. The sight is spectacularly surreal; it’s something that seems impossible – but why? Apart from the nudity, it is the conditions the pigs are kept in that jar. The realization that they are sentient beings – animals, yes, but not so different from ourselves.

Feb 17 2011

In the Sea…

IN THE SEA
MAD 2/14/11

“But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good,
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.”
~The Animals

It’s impossible to be in love with someone who will always love themselves more than they could ever love you. After nearly a decade I’d learned that the hard way and now, at the beginning of ten mile walk on a predictably chilly and wet night in late October, I stood by the side of the road with a Ruger SP-101 revolver hidden neatly concealed in my jacket pocket, staring down at the torn and battered remains of a bloody Rottweiler who had clearly seen better days.

Before we get too far along in our twisted little tale of melancholy, angst and tragic romance, let me tell you that my first name is Joe and my last name is really none of your business. Who knows, maybe my first name isn’t Joe but it will suit our purposes here tonight. The first person who calls me Holden Caulfield will get a pointy brick thrown squarely at their pointier head. As far as I’m concerned Salinger was a one hit wonder who had been riding the coattails of his own lucky break for over fifty years. The reason he’d been in seclusion for half of his life is because he had nothing left to offer the world. Me, I’m an American original and here’s my narrative. Read it and weep, or don’t’, I could give a shit.