MONSTERS are the bad in us, the good in us, the scary, the silly, the holy, the demonic, the big, the small, the caricature, the reality, the fiction.

We are all monsters, we are all angelic. Sometimes we are both at the same time.

Jump for joy, because the monsters are here to stay.

i have made so much art in the past three-plus months. i’ve filled up six whole journals, with two more in progress. i have no access to a scanner or anything, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

other things i have no access to: cell phone, reliable internet connection, anarchists, people whose politics do not offend me.

it seems like all i draw anymore are monsters. maybe i am obsessed, maybe i’m not creative, or maybe it doesn’t even matter. maybe some day, i will find the motivation to draw a guide, showing what each of the monsters represents. or maybe i will just leave it up for interpretation.

also: blah blah blah, wordpress messes up picture sizing. click the pictures to un-resize.

“big bro & the monster co”

“got yr heart on a string / can’t feel a thing”

made using this fabulous site: http://www.zefrank.com/scribbler/scribblertoo/

I miss you, I really do.

I’m sorry I haven’t called or written back. I’m sorry for mumbling and lying and telling half-truths and walking around with my head down and giving half smiles and not saying anything at all. I’m sorry for not coming to your parties and protests and events and meetings. I’m sorry for not being able to explain myself. I’m sorry for everything it’s possible to apologize for, and then some.

People have told me I’m a good writer, but I feel like a terrible one. I wish I knew how to write in metaphor, how to hide what I mean under moving imagery so that everyone identifies with it, says “yes, that’s lovely; that’s so true!” but doesn’t really know what I’m trying to say.

A classmate once praised me for my bluntness, but it’s not something I do intentionally; it’s the only way I know how to be. And so I haven’t written, I haven’t made art, I haven’t spoken to people. It’s easier this way. You don’t want to hear the truth, and I don’t want to tell it.

I’m going to end here, because this is too honest.

Love,

Me

if you looked back you’d see
years of desperation
hunger & guilt endlessly clawing at you
for things that don’t even matter
just because you wanted to dull out
everything that really did
and everyone who ever hurt you

and so you keep going
head down
never stopping long enough to
look at the destruction in your wake
just feel the guilt overwhelm you
carry it with you
leave everything else behind

it’s
trying to impose order on a world that
surrounds you with emptiness
til you’re left wondering
whether anything means anything at all
or whether
if you stood in that aisle covered in flourescent light
would the world keep on moving around you
or would it all just fall apart

but don’t think about that
you can’t or it
would
fall apart
fade to flourescent

so you pack up your guilt and your desperation
just keep walking
power through it
watch in disgust at the choices as you make them

saying
“this has all
been a mistake
let’s keep going
to make it all worth it
or maybe we’ll just cease to be”

WordPress will probably mess up the picture sizing and whatnot, so if for some reason you would like to read the words, just click on the pictures.