SUCKBLOG summer 06

JULY 9, 2006: IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STORY...

The new summer season of the SUCKBLOG finds the anti-hero in the middle of trying to pull of another miracle in the ongoing war against the TASKMASTER. That's the name of the new villain that has been fucking with my life. Why so often do I find myself trying to pull off a massive deadline with mad conflicts getting in my face? So this guy sets up a new maze for me to escape from. We are killing ourself to make 100 new suckfigs for Comicon as well as juggle a huge Si*Se schedule, including training a sub to cover some shows I'm gonna miss, all in a week. Bailing back from a 3 day adventure in Denver and New Mexico. Left New York on thursday night with a half finished stack of GAY EMPIRE comicon exclusives in a HOT as FUCK Suckstudio. Had a war with a bunch of ankle biters on the KID ROBOT message board concerning my new product based on my muse, MZRE. Jerks were not to kind to her up there. I was losing my confidence based on that. So we bail to Santa Fe to play at this little private art party. We stayed in this cool little adobe hotel. All the buildings there are fake adobe pueblo houses or whatever. They are way into their local art scene here. All this Native visions stuff. I guess it's cool. There was some Native American guy playing flute in the lobby. It was cool. He was an older guy with a ponytail and cowboy boots with the turquoise bling on. I like that they are all into spirt flute tunes from the plains and their dream catchers and stuff. You should keep that all alive, but why is it all so invariably new agey? It's cheesy. Where's the edge? It's all so politically correct. I want to see some dirty injun hip hop group all fucked up on firewater rapping over beefed up indian drums yelling at the white man. IWA (injuns with attitude.) that would be hot! So we are chilling. Had to air out some inter-group issues with the band, which was a little awkward. Got baked. I had my computer with me and I couldn't stay of the damm message board, stressing about my shit. Next day is the show. It's in a big tent next to some art gallery. I guess the local art scene is really active and there are a lot of rich patrons around to support it. I saw the work. It sucked in my opinion. But so what? I was getting paid. We were snacking on these lame artsy fartsy h'orderves and getting drunk up until 6pm when we went on. It was cool cuz we were just the background music and we could just be wasted up there and not care. Nothin all that interesting happened. After we pack up our shit. Then this guy from the show takes us to get some free weed from someone. We were driving thru some narrow little streets and fucked up the side of the van on one of those adorable little mud buildings. We made a tight corner and a big nail sticking out of the wall ripped a big gash in the side of the car as well as ripping off the door handle. Well, I guess nobody is getting paid now. We go back and get high and hit the spa. We were having a good time getting silly in the hot tub under this dope cloudy moon. I felt like a coyote (kind of). Everyone finally went back and I got in the pool. I don't know why, but whenever I smoke pot and go swimming by myself, I always do these goofy things in the water. Like making up some weird aqua yoga. I hope no one saw me. Then I go back up and the venue had bought us some really expensive meals from room service. we were so high. We had duck and cous cous with cranberries and salmon and all this fancy shit. we just laid all the plates on the bed and everyone just grabbed from whatever they wanted until it was all gone and we were licking the plates. You'd think these bums had never had a decent meal before.
We got up at 6 and I went back to check the message board. It took a positive turn during the night. OK. Did some package design for a while then we hit the road at 7 to go to Denver. Stopped in some shit-bag truck stop and I ate these revolting tamales that would ruin my stomach for the rest of the trip. I just half slept in the car all the way up. We got to our hotel on Colfax and headed to this place BLUEBIRD to do the soundcheck. House guys were fuckin slow so I dipped to the Porno store next door. Got carded trying to go into the peepshow. Put in a few bux and tried to jerk off, but the porn was so bad I couldn't do it. They only had like 20 channels. The gay was mixed in with the straight which made it a hassle to channel surf. You're supposed to put all the gay channels in one block, all the fetish and bestiality in their own blocks so you can speed thru it to get to what you want to see. Rookies!
Then we finally soundcheck and ate some miserable chinese food, My stomach! We did the show and it was great. Amazing, good looking crowd. Got fucked up as usual and made a bunch of new friends. We went back to the hotel and wound up picking up some grubby white dreadlock street girl outside. we took her and her dog upstairs cuz she wanted to smoke. So we smoked and she started doing some suggestive shit up there, you know pantomime blowjobs and stuff. I was trying to get her to take her shirt off just for wreck, then I think she realized she was a slut and felt bad, so she left. Just as well. We started getting more drunk and I got into bed. I wake up like an hour later and there are like mad people in the room, a stripper and her friend and FARLEY is sitting there yelling about how I punched his hand when he was fucking with me in my sleep. I had no memory of that. I was too drunk to do anything so I just lay there until they all finally left at 4 am. Now we are coming home and I need to get back on the ball and get MAD SHIT in place for SAN DIEGO COMICON! It's gonna rule.

JULY 17, 2006: MY GIRL'S ASS IS SO BIG...AND ITS HOT AS FUCK OUTSIDE

My life for the last 3 weeks has been only four things:
Busting ass til all hours making figures to sell at comicon
Staring at my computer promoting all those figures I'm making
Touring or rehearsing with SI*SE and training a sub to cover for me
Begrudgingly having fun with my girlfriend

Speaking of which, I'm still doing those salsa classes. I started picking it up a bit more. Plus I have been showering before class. Its a common courtesy seeing as you have to dance with strangers. So I'm there and my girl's late. So I'm getting into the class and I'm noticing all these cute little chicks at the studio. Small little skinny girly things, I'm like allright, allright. Not bad. Then I hear this loud SLAM! CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP and its my girl barging in all late. She has these little summery platform shoes and these tight jeans and her ass is like KA-POW! It's so big it seems like she can't even walk properly and she's making a lot of noise, then I like suddenly forgot about all these little skinny nobodies. My girl is all thick and loud and that's the steez I like. She blew me away. So we do the class, drink beer at Winnie's, and then go to Columbus park to practice what we learned. It's fun but I'm so worried about my production schedule that I must be bumming girl out. I committed to making 350 figs this month, double the monthly norm. Between killing myself to get it done, I hadda go to DC with the band. When we got back saturday I went right back to work til 2am. I was getting really stressed out. Every little thing that didn't work out was eating me up. I was up there throwing fits like Ari Gold, throwing shit and cursing Jesus Christ; smashing things. I 'm dying. Plus there are so many other chores, staying up on orders, doing interviews, fielding shit, Getting my music and costume ready for the con. So many details, I'm getting lost. All this is happening against a backdrop of crushing, unbearable heat and humidity. I haven't gotten around to buy an air conditioner. My apt is a sweltering hell hole. My girl made an ultimatum, get an AC or I am not coming over anymore. That AL GORE movie got me worried... I really think we're doomed. BTW did I mention that this girl is the bomb? She stayed up with me til 4am tying up loose ends before I finally left for SDCC, I finally thought I had every last detail covered. We went to sleep for 3 hrs then I said bye and got in the cab. Finally after weeks of preparation it was all gonna go into action. So I'm relaxing in the cab on the way to the airport and then BAM! I remembered that I forgot something! I left all the left arms of the CRIMSON SUICIDE figure in the studio... What A dick. I have the right arms but not the left. It was like a big spiked fist right in the forehead. How, after all my careful planning and scheming could I be so stupid as to leave something so small, yet crucial behind? The figures are useless without the arm. I killed myself to get that done. My mind is racing to figure out how to solve it, the whole optimism of the venture is clouded by this STUPID setback. I start making calls and fortunately my girl rules. She went back into the city for me after going home to BK, got the key from the landlord, got the arms and overnighted them to me. By the time I got to SD it was all solved. I think I love this girl. God that's gay. But yo, it's really good to have some down girl on my team who is good to make moves for her man. And did I mention that she has a fantastic ass? I'm a lucky guy. So I'm here in SD at this fat hotel on H-BRO's dime. Gotta set their booth up tomorrow and the next day. That's how I get to come out here and get paid for it. Plus there is plenty of time to run my own schemes. So I'm at the OMNI across from the convention center assembling the suckfigs and watching sex and the city. So it starts now. What's gonna happen?

JULY 28, 2006: COMIC-CONARTIST

So I get up at 7am and start getting into my routine here in San Diego. I dip over to the convention center, pick up my badge and hook up with my boss. The H-BRO booth is huge and she's there getting all the crates open and setting up the display cases and all that. I gotta put up all the signs and help place all the display materials. They got all kinds of shit going on and mad people up in there. They got a life-size Boba Fett, a huge Ghost Rider motorcycle, a 10 foot tall Optimus Prime, and a whole bunch of other shit. SO much going on. My part is easy, but it's stop and go. There is activity all around at all the other booths and I'm hot to look around. My peeps from DKE toys are in there and I want to go say what's up. I manage to find some free time to snoop around, but in general I'm bustin ass. The day drags a little and by 6pm I'm really hot to leave. DOV KELEMER is going out with his crew and I wanna party, but I can't leave til my boss sez. I'm starting to stress out cuz I don't wanna miss dinner. Finally after an extra hour I get to go. I'm really heated cuz I'm nervous I'm missing the fun. Its so crowded and I can't get out. I'm carrying a big box of something, I can't remember. Oh yeah, my boombox and cds that came with the freight. It's hot when I get out and all the ass dragging fucks are slowing me down. I'm runnin and dodgin to get across to the hotel and then there is this huge freight train blocking my way. Its just sitting there. I'm dying to get away and I can't. The train goes one way then the next. Like 20 minutes goes by and I'm ready to just jump between the cars. Too many cops, though. Finally it goes away and I flee over to the hotel. Who the fuck put the train trax between the convention center and my hotel? I get to the lobby and I try to get to the desk to see if the package of arms showed up. There is mad dickbags taking FOREVER to check in and by now I'm spouting smoke from my ears. I'm grinding my wheels when I finally get to the desk and ask for my shit. It takes the guy 20 fuckin minutes to locate it. I'm about to explode. I get my shit and start hacking my way thru the crowd, hating all of them in a red haze when suddenly this teenager is like "hey, weren't you on that VH1 dating show?" Somehow that breaks the spell and I calm down. I dip up to the room and change. Then I go out to dinner with Dov and his crew and Frank KOZIK. We have a beautiful Italian dinner as well as this raging conversation about toys and art and shit. Then go to the Marriot to soak in the hot tub and get psyched for the fuckin con. I go to the room and start assembling the new CRIMSON SUICIDE figures. They still need some finishing and I don't have any tools, so I have to use a fuckin toenail clipper to make the arm sockets big enough for the arms. resourceful guy, jerkoff.
Next day at the booth the scene is better. Today we are setting up the toys. I have the pleasure of working with the main STAR WARS guy, DERRYL DePREIST. He's way onto SW so I get to riff about the line with him. The Sucklord, as "grey area" as he may be, is a recognized expert on SW with the H-bro crew. We have some good discourse. Saw all the new Marvel toys too and got to give my opinion on them. I said they were cool. Went out with the DKE crew again and finally MZRE shows up at 11pm. We work on getting her figs packed up and now it's official. The shit is about to start.
Thursday. Me and MZ head over to the con. I'm in full Sucklord armor, rockin the box, she's in one of her sexy red outfits with the wings and the two colored eyes and naturally, wigs are flippin. I'm pumpin the new BAND of the LOST cd and they start sellin as soon as I get there. Peeps be knowing the SUCKADELIC shit and I don't have to push it as much. All the work I've done over the years paid off. The $$$ is commin in. We go to DKE and set up and already we move some SUCKLORD 69 and the Crimson Suicide toys, signing, smiling, shining, takin flix. It's perfect. My world is spinnin. Cameras flashin, peoples on the tip. Looking nice. The day just seems to fly by. The roll of cash gets swole and I'm flying. Go back to the hotel and start to notice the room is getting a bit more "lived in." I love that. I like to see a blank room slowly get personalized as the sucklife happens in it. MZ goes off to see her friends and I go the the MARVEL party to drink free booze and eat mad h'orderves. It's in some big space full of all kinds of heads. SIR STEVE was in the house. I got to see the preview of the new GHOST RIDER movie as well as SPIDERMAN 3. I hate that franchise, but this one may be ok. Start getting fucked up and guess who's there? Fuckin STAN LEE. He's chilling signing shit. I got him to tag up on my GREEN GOBLIN tattoo. I don't think he could see what it was. It was dark, he's old and he had his sunglasses on. I asked him what the fuck was up with that stupid GG costume in the movie. He washed his hands of that. I guess I somehow got back to the hotel even tho I was sorta faded. Friday, I head back to the con and do the shit all over again. MZRE was M.I.A, so the toys kinda lagged. It's easier to sell them when she's standing there drawing in all the gawking fanboys who wanna take their shot. It's all kind of a blur. Just talking to so many people and checking out all the hot nerd girls in their crazy outfits. The costumes are always so interesting. Titties everywhere. The cds are still selling and I just go all around posing for flix, getting filmed for some documentaries, doing interviews. Buggin out. Hooked up with Billions. GASTON from SPAN OF SUNSET came thru, talked some biz, kept shining. CARRIE FISHER rolled thru and bought a SL 69! Wow. I'm winning. Went to HOOTERS for dinner and then zipped over to the STRANGECO party. Oh god, I got fuckin wasted. Toy nerds know how to party, despite what you may think. Jumped up to dance on the table with Dov's boy, Ionut who had no shirt on and I guess it got a little faggy up there. Cameras were going off and a huge spectacle got made. Sweet. I did it all to sell more GAY EMPIRE figures. Then I dipped out to some house somewhere with the TOY TOKYO crew. I was stumbling drunk at this point on Patron. Smoked some bowls and tried to not pass out. I got back at 4am and I couldn't stop laughing cuz I know I acted like a total maniac. Went back to the con again on saturday, My new manager SIR NILES came down for one day to take in the SUCKHUSTLE and start getting matriculated into the game. I was starting to get a bit tired of the con. I mean I was still loving it, but my body was wearing down. I trooped it out though. The radio was getting heavy but I was determined to sell out on the cds, so I forced myself. It wasn't hard. I moved the last few units and was like finally DONE! I guess I have accumulated a good amount of acumen in all the years. Peeps want my new shit based on the strength of the old. Its nice to know that all my efforts haven't just been going into a big black hole. Every little move one makes adds up, I find. Went back to the Omni and took a well deserved soak in the hot tub. Ate some tacos and got suited up for the comicon dance party. Boy did that suck. All these weird geeks dancing around to awful techno and spinning glow sticks and shit. Sir Niles was not feeling it, but I insisted we stay til the end. MZRE lost her camera and went to go find it. Sir Niles and my self went over to the Marriot to party in BRAD DIGITAL's room. It almost started out as a sausage factory, but it picked up. Smoked an L on the balcony and got into a passionate conversation with SEEN about how sucky the Spiderman movies are and how we are too old skool to really get into it. This guy there said something interesting to me about the suckworld and why heads dig it. He said I was an outlaw and that people always love an outlaw. I was really happy to hear it put that way. I guess I know why I never get the big coporate art jobs now. I then treated him to a long rambling monologue about the importance of my work and the deeper meaning and all the sentimentality of my passions. I caught his eyes glazing over so I shut up. Niles wants to dip so we go back to the room at 3am. We were hoping to stay up later and keep wilding, but MZ is there sick from alcohol poisoning and sleeping so we have to crash. So it's all 3 of us in the bed. He passed out immediately and starts snoring like a fucking chain saw. With him making all that racket and her getting up to puke every half an hour I start to think that's the moment the con jumped the shark. Sunday, the last day. The room is fucked up. It's just ransacked with helmets and capes and swords and beer bottles and food containers and all kinds of other bullshit and empty boxes. It's great. Niles bounces up to LA and I do some prelim packing and then go back to the con for a final hang. I'm in my civilian gear and I'm just fading into the crowd. I'm dead beat and getting sad and nostalgic. I have to go pay the piper in a few hours and break down the booth. Pay the bills. I'm not psyched about that cuz it usually goes til really late. I don't mind doing it. Its worth it for all the perks. I just hate that the worst, hardest part of the trip comes at the very end. Crushing reality. So I'm just tooling around, no body wants my picture today. I go and say bye to my peeps at FILM THREAT and the RALPH BAKSHI booth. I'm just spacing out standing there when suddenly this beautiful young girl, must have been 16, just gives me this sweet, sly, knowing smile and for some reason that just slays me. I'm all emotional about the con and the people and friends and my success and I'm so sad to see it go. That girl's smile just put me over somehow and I just swooned against the wall and let all the emotions just wash over me. I finally composed myself and go to DOV to close out. I did well and he hands me this knot of cash that can choke a horse. It barely fits in my pocket. Yes, the bounty hunter gets his quarry. I drink a beer, do a circus punk and slowly make my way back to H-bro to pay my dues. I slog away til I'm so tired that I can't move. MZ calls and says she's leaving for LA and I don't get to say goodbye. That hurts. It's all slipping away. The con gets less and less lively as all the exhibitors leave and pull out their shit. I'm packing boxes and shrink wrapping pallets endlessly. FInally it's midnight and I get to leave. I go soak with DOV and crew one more time. Its mellow and we are all spent. The fellowship is finally broken and we all go our separate ways. Dov is the last guy I see before I go back to the hotel alone. Back to my solitary self and finally back to New york and a beautiful orange summer sunset over chinatown. A short rest and then on to the next adventure. Whatever that may be...

AUGUST 5, 2006: GUILTY PLEASURES

So July was a great month. I did really well. I made more money in that month than any other month EVER! I was in like 8 cities, I played mad shows, I sold mad CDs, I produced and sold Mad Figures. I pushed my fame further and have so many options on the table. I did well for myself. (Back-pat). But I also kinda killed myself too. I pushed my body and my will to the extreme and I'm a little tired. I Need a rest. That's ok right? I deserve it. I was around people so much, putting so much out to them and taking in so much all the time. Is it normal to want to be alone for a while? I think so. But then why do I feel so guilty? When I make my "me" time, it usually goes like this: I lock myself in my house, I close the curtains, and I don't answer the phone. I sit around in my underwear with the AC blasting and I proceed to smoke as much pot as I want. I do it all day from when I get up to when I go to bed. I will also indulge in pornography and masturbation as much as I can until my dick falls off. During the off time I will eat as much food and drink as much alcohol as I want. I also allow myself to sleep for as long as I damm well please. I usually do this for about 3 or 4 days in a row until I get over it. I think it's fine. It's really fun and it's not like I do this all the time. I'm a really fuckin responsible guy and I brought home the bacon. Daddy needs to chill now. But I can't do it all the way cuz that asshole nagging wife of an overachieving workaholic voice is constantly in the back of my head trying to make me feel bad about taking some time off. This huge guilt about wasting time and getting fucked up and cutting myself off from people is bad and I'm bad and I'm blowing it. I know its bullshit, but I cant turn it off. I wanna punch this guy in the face. I could make music based on this. Like Guilt rock, or Guilt-hop or Guiltcore or something. I waste a lot of time talking out loud to myself trying to explain and rationalize my behavior. Why do I have to constantly justify myself to myself of all people? I should be forgiving and understanding with myself. Instead I'm my own worst enemy. Is this the fucking Necromancer spinning his spells again? Touché, my evil foe, but I still got away with it. I still enjoyed it. Another thing I did which fucked my head up good was paint my apartment. The one chore I allowed myself during my lost weekend. I finally have time and money to personalize my space. It has been so drab and soulless up til now. Finally I get to make it mine. Problem is it isn't mine. It's my landlord's. He told me he would prefer if I DID NOT paint the apartment. He has his reasons and I have to respect them. But that wall color was killing me. Off white. I couldn't hack it. So I went buckwild and hit up anyway, and not some safe, simple color. Nope. HOT PINK. The ceiling too. It looks fuckin CRAZY. Only a madman would do that I think. I like it, but I know when and if the Guy comes up here and sees it, he's GONNA SHIT! I don't think he will be able to understand why I would want to have the wall that wacky color and how much it's gonna cost him to re paint it, etc. I am really not looking forward to that interaction. I know you're probably thinking "hey Sucklord, you're supposed to be this big evil Villain and shit, why do you give a fuck about this guy and his walls? Fuck em." Well I would say yeah, I know. But I still did it right? I mean I put his interests and my interests against each other and which one did I pick? That's right, mine. I put myself ahead of someone else and that is the real villainy. But I didn't necessarily enjoy it. I'm not your type of chaotic evil villain that does things against people cuz they relish it and savor hurting people. That's cheesy. I'm one of your more amoral villains. My primary goal is to acheive an ongoing and ever increasing series of ego victories. That's about the purpose of my life. To assert myself as an individual and live life as I will. If someone's interests come in conflict with mine. I will always rule in favor of me. But I do have the decency to feel bad about it. I didn't want to fuck up this guy's apartment and I will find a way to make it right by him. But just the dread of having to deal with him on this at some point and the possibility that this could create some tension in my living space, my sanctuary, stresses my out. So here I am, rocked on weed and booze after a 4 day bender, sitting in this flaming hot pink room racked with guilt and dread and fear and regret. The bright color of the room is blaring down at me and all my shame is pouring out of me. I felt so fucked and crazy I thought I was gonna crack. And then it just ended. I calmed down and talked myself back to sanity. I got some sleep and when I woke up I felt fine. It's all good. I'll make it all work. The room looks great. My binge is almost over. Kind of a half day of getting loaded. Gotta do a few simple runs this afternoon. Then I am going to take a vacation. Yes, you heard right. A VACATION, with my girl and no work. I never do this. I need a vacation from myself, that's what I need. I can't wait. But before I go I think I'm gonna try to paint the kitchen too...

AUGUST 12, 2006: PEACE IN OUR TIME...

Well, the wars rage on, but I found my little slice of peace and tranquility. I jetted out to FIRE ISLAND last week and laid low with the lady. Just got deep in the beach hang swimmin, fuckin, and smokin. Also bike ridin and BBQin the briani mako shark steaks. Plus boogie boardin, sleepin, fishin, and building sand castles for 5 days. The best part? Turning a deaf ear to the cell phone and emails. Yes, I was incommunicado as I lay out on the beach chillin. I didn't want to come back. I found that moment of peace I had been seeking. No stress, no worries. Nothing that I HAD to do. All laid back. I'm sorry to be home. I could have kept going. I tried to ride my bike around the city and it was a big hassle. So many fuckin cars and people. Too much. Not like those dark quiet streets biking out there in Ocean Bay Park. I miss it. My girlfriend didn't get on my nerves like I thought. She actually grew on me more. Scary. I wonder how long my peaceful vibe is gonna last now that I'm back. People are already up my ass about shit I gotta do. I thought I would come back ready to roll up my sleeves and hit the ground running. But I just wanna keep drinking and goofing off. I hope I can get away with it a little longer. There are things in place that will take the suckworld into the next realm of fame and paidness. Thing is I must rise to the occasion. I have to muster a huge amount of initiative and leadership. Right now I don't have the will. I feel like I just want to become a man of leisure. Fuck conquering the world. That takes too much effort. Hopefully as fall approaches I will stoke up the gumption required to make the next series of big moves. This year has been taxing. It is about to get worse. I think I just want to disappear into the reeds of the Sunken Forest and stay there, becoming part of the dunes, melting into the ocean...

AUGUST 28, 2006: LIFE IS A WASTE OF TIME

I dunno, man. It takes a lot of effort to be alive doesn't it? Being a person is a big responsibility. There is so much detail that needs constant attention. And in the end are we really happy? Yeah, sure we have friends and meaningful work. We live in the greatest city in the world, there is so much to see and do. So many great people, so many opportunities and all. But what does it all amount to? Not much, in my opinion. All this effort to be the best you can and really go for it and none of it lasts. It all goes away. Like I just sunk a bunch of money into my apartment, painting, new furniture, new lights, but it still isn't done. There are flaws. The paint job is fucked up in places. The rug doesn't quite square with the room. Shit is getting dirty. When does it stop? When Is it complete? How's never? I mopped and straightened up and cleaned the shower. But I just did that last week. It's dirty again? I don't have time for this. How do normal people do it? How do you stay ahead of the encroaching filth week after week? Is it worth it to care? Even after I spend all morning cleaning up it still looks dirty. After I put away the broom and move all the shit back in the room I see a corner that I neglected. It's annoying. Besides all this hassle of the house, there's all this other shit that never ends, my banking, my business, my taxes, my whatever. My friends. My fucking friends. What's their deal? Why are they so flawed? Why aren't they working harder to make me happy? Why are there so few of them? How come they aren't around when I need them? Why won't they go away when I want to be alone? All this management trying to stay up with them. Last night I was walking home alone. Quitting life early. Other people were out having fun. Why wasn't I? Why wasn't I surrounded by amazing individuals doing wild things in the hot summer night? Why aren't I as fulfilled as I want to be? What's up with the ups and downs? Last month I had the world by the balls. I was paid, laid, and living large. Now I'm a miserable misanthrope that's about to go broke. Why is happiness so fleeting but misery always available? It takes so much effort to be a wonderful person and great friend and amazing artist, yet the payoff is always so brief. You always come crashing back down. God is an asshole, I think. He's an asshole because he doesn't exist. What's the point of trying when you know you're gonna lose? Life is a waste of time. It hurts too much. Maybe I'm just getting down cuz the summer is ending. Or is it? It's beautiful out. It's not getting cold anytime soon. But the summer lifestyle is gonna end. It's back to work. I got job for the next few weeks. It's gonna be dull. I always feel regret at this time of year. Instead of celebrating all the great things I have done, I prefer to lament the things I haven't done. Oh well. I'm just a minor speck in time and I'll be dead soon. My happiness isn't important. Nothing is. Oh well, who gives a fuck really? I'll forget I even felt this way sooner or later. I have to keep going no matter what. Giving up is for the weak. I have to fight against death until I can't anymore. Or do I? You know what I hear right now? A giant farting noise that just keeps going and going. That's your life asshole. A prolonged fart that echoes through the universe and then just stops. Then all we have is the smell. A salty potato chip smell that sooner or later disappears...

AUGUST 31, 2006: NEW YORK CITY R.I.P

The city is doomed. What was once the greatest urban mythological theater for the best and wildest of humanity and earth is in it's final chapters. Did you see AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH? Global warming is gonna put an end to this shithole within 50-100 years. All of New York is gonna be underwater. Good riddance. The assholes have taken it over anyway. Awful cornball white people with money but no culture are running this town. Used to be any maniac could get over and be a force here. Some crazy fuck with no money could just open up a storefront and peddle his insanity at all hours of the night. Now all those freaky stores are gone. Now we just have yuppie lampshades and expensive coffee and stupid dress shops. How many fuckin dresses do we need? The clubs? Forget it. Can't smoke, can't do drugs, can't do anything. It's so expensive, Packed with douchebags. All these lame luxury condos going up up up. What happened to the squatters? All the color is bleeding out of this town. I saw two cops stop some guy for playing the violin on the sidewalk yesterday. Are you serious? That's some culture killing fascist shit. I used to say that if the terrorists ever dropped a nuke on Manhattan, I would want to be here, to go up in flames with the city I love. If I was out in California and New York blew up and I had nowhere to go home to, I couldn't live. If all of it, chinatown, the Village, the LES, central Park was wiped out in an instant, I wouldn't wanna know. I couldn't go on. I would feel guilty for not dying with my city. I still feel that way. But if this place dies a slow, lingering, and undignified death, flooded by dickheads and dirty water, then I guess I'll bounce. If this place slowly sinks under the wave, then I'll go. It's better to let it disappear and live on in memory then to have it turn into a giant mall. That would be the worst tragedy. I'll go live my final years in Canada. We're all fucked anyway. Nature is gonna kill us. It's gonna be slow. It won't be cinematic. It will be pathetic. New Orleans was just the beginning. The worst is yet to come. And it won't stop. It will just get more lame as time goes on. Supposedly we have a chance to stop it if we make a radical change in our way of life. If we chill with the fossil fuels and control the greenhouse gasses we may have a chance. But we won't. Humanity is too weak. We don't have the will. Most of us are in denial. With George W running the show we have no chance. America won't be the hero in this story. Humanity will disappear with a whimper and it won't matter. The bugs will take over and rule The earth for the next 10 million years. What will they think of our ruins? They'll probably think that they suck. I also just heard that with the climate getting hotter, bubonic plague will be making a comeback. Just lovely. What other wonderful surprises can we expect? As far as I know, I'm just going for mine. There is no time left to care about anything else. Fuck AIDS, fuck Africa, fuck war, fuck genocide, fuck terrorism, fuck all the injustices all over the world. I can't do anything to change that. What should I do? Sign a petition? Write my congressman? Gimme a break. That ain't shit. Even if we did improve those things, even a little, It won't matter. We are going to drown. We are not worth saving. We won't save ourselves. There is no God. The Universe doesn't care. All I have in this world is myself. That's the only thing I care about. I'm just gonna make the most of what I have, and when it's done, it's done and I can die. Then I won't have to answer the fucking phone anymore....

SEPTEMBER 6, 2006: BACK TO SCHOOL

Ahh, ya little whiny douchebag, that's right. You gotta work. You have to get up in the morning and go to a job. You poor thing. I feel so sorry for you. For real, who was that little baby who wrote those last bunch of entries in this fagblog? It was me? oops, my bad. I got a little soft the last month. Sorry about that. I guess I let my vacation turn into a debauch, and then a downward spiral. I cut myself too much slack, I think. Do I sense a new villain? The one that gives me the ok to fuck off and get high and drunk and sleep all day and be a bum? Oooh he's a real asshole, that guy. He really got the better of me. So I slipped into darkness. I had an existential crisis. A "dark night of the soul," if you will. I gave in to despair and that's wack, but it happens. SO now I don't have no money and I had to go back to an old job. I said I wasn't gonna do it. And I kept my boat afloat without any kind of job for a good minute, but now I gotta go back. I promised myself I wouldn't, but that's what you get for being lazy. Now I have to get up at 8am and train it out to Queens and sit in front of a computer all day. I haven't heard the sound of an alarm clock in more than 6 weeks. I guess I should be happy about that. The discipline will do me good. You were getting soggy and maudlin there SUCKLORD. Not a good look for a villain. Okay. I think I'm gonna be all right. Just do this gig for a few weeks, build up some cash reserves, keep the suckboat swimmin at night and the weekends, and soon enough the evil operations will be popin lovely. They better be...

SEPTEMBER 21, 2006: THINGS THAT HAPPENED RECENTLY:

I just discovered another easier way to indulge in my many vices. A website called PORNOTUBE! It's just like YouTube but with porno movies. When did this come out? It's great cuz you can search thru categories and watch clips without getting popups and spyware or whatever. Great. Now I can waste time more effectively. Just what I needed. SO yeah, life is continuing. Been working in Queens which is easy. Just backing up files and shit. I make sure to get in there no later than 11AM! Gotta stay focused. It's been good getting up at 8 in the morning. I find I am less tired during the day when I get only 5-7 hours of sleep than when I get like 9 or 10. So with all this energy I have been out almost every night getting drunk with my friends and doing cultural shit. Thursday I had a piece in the KID ROBOT PAINT BALL. A big fucked up Dunny. Went with my little crew and got blasted with some freaks like this guy PHETUS and EARSNOT. We wound up staying out til 2AM doing karaoke at Yello with CHARLIE BECKER and his hot new girl. Then the next day we went out and started sourcing our new helmets on CANAL STREET. Gonna come out with some new hot shit, but damm Canal is falling off. All the cool little surplus stores and plastic places are closing one by one. This fuckin city, I swear is getting so lame. It's harder to find impossible bits of flotsam for your absurd art projects like you used to be able to. Then Saturday I went to see KOOL KEITH at Bowery Ballroom. We rocked our armor and all. CRYSTAL PHAROH had the new kryptonite scepter and I had my Platinum SLAVE I that Jacob the jeweler made for me. (or didn't). I wound up getting kicked out only after 2 songs for wearing my helmet in the club. I got 2 warnings and the the 3rd time I didn't have it on at all. I was just waving it in the air and that was that. I used my black magic to make sure that cocksucker security guard got hemorrhoids the next day. Went to KINGSIZE after and got, you guessed, FUCKED UP! Went back to work for 2 days and then played a SISE gig for MTV3 (tres) at THE WALDORF ASTORIA hotel. We did 3 songs, ate greasy orderves and took full advantage of the free booze. Had a room in there but I hadda go back to Queens with the gear, so bye. It's kind of a chintzy hotel actually. You would think a more historic and storied institution would be a little classier. It wuz kinda tacky. Who cares? we drank and ate all they had to offer. Then I went to KUSH with NEIL OCHOA. It was salsa night so I got to practice what I learned in class with his sister. Apparently I didn't learn much, so I was told. We tried to drink mojitos but they kept doing all this bait and switch stuff on us. First they were 9 dollars. Then when we sat at a bench against by the wall we had to order only from the waitress. That meant we had to pay a surcharge for sitting there which made the drinks $14! The club was almost empty on a Tuesday. What kind of shit is that? We sent them back and told the waitress to go fuck herself. We went and ordered from the bar and they charged us $11 each. Supposedly the "special" was over. So much for a lousy weak mojito? They cost 6 bux at SOBs. Why was this bar trying to hustle New York guys like some tourist trap strip club? New York is sucking. Went home and ate at WONTON GARDEN before nodding out in front of my computer surfing PornoTube. Yeas, I actually nodded out surfing porn.

SEPTEMBER 30: LAST DAYS

Summer Blog season over now. Fall starting. 2006 is 3/4 over. Already! Still hustlin, still strivin. Can't stop. War. War all around. New beginnings. Old things dying away. Choices to be made. Gotta get focused. Gotta get paid. Make it happen. Starting again from scratch. New ventures, new projects, new goal. A total rethinking of operations. A shake up, a change up. Freshen up. Refresh. Cut suckers loose. Build new alliances. Push harder. Get your rhymes together. Forget the slave shit. Innovate and delegate. Don't hesitate. Eat better. Cut the shitty habits. Get in shape. Get hard. Get disciplined. A bunch of crazy shit is about to go down. Are you ready? You better be. If you ain't ready, it ain't happenin! You're the man. Don't be a pussy. Stop being a fag. Make your moves. Get your new mask together. Do what you will. It's all ending soon enough. The world is sinking. It's now or never. Make hay while the sun still shines. To those about to rock, we salute you. Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die...