Impulsive Stories vol. 4 – #16-20
Another set of stories! I’m posting these as they were originally written. Enjoy some sillies!
16. The Author
Another story! Prolific author Rutabaga Jones just spurted them out. Almost secreted them from his pores. It was really gross. He made nasty sucking noises while he wrote. And then he published. He usually wrote five or six hundred stories a year! Everyone was awestruck. Then some writers got jealous, because Rutabaga’s style was so chameleon-y that no one published anyone else’s stories anymore. Rutabaga wrote in all the genres and became the only author anyone ever read. But that was the start of his rise as global then galactic emperor. He started weaving subliminal messages into his writings and people began to believe that he would be great as a world leader and so they made him one. His first act was to request all the cheesecake. He did very much love cheesecake. So he ate it all and became very very fat. Then the world was not big enough, quite literally, it could not hold him, so he had his minions build him a space container and was launched into space and from there, took over the galaxy. It was quite a sight to see. He had the best weapons installed on his container and he floated around blowing things up. To this day, people still rule in the name of Rutabaga Jones, though he has to be dead. That was two thousand years ago. He is totally dead- oh no! there he is! He’s coming to get me! He’s screaming about blasphemy! He is so big! He’s the size of the moons! No don’t get closer! The world can’t take it! Kaboom!
11th February 2013
17. The Thought
Nathan pondered. There was something stuck in his mind, something hidden in the folds of thought. He couldn’t pin it down, couldn’t grasp it to make sense of it. It was something significant, he could tell, one of those thoughts that lingers beyond its inception, ephemeral but present. All day it stayed there, just out of reach, and Nathan could not focus on anything. Meetings passed by at work, and he heard little of what was said. The new drives on the new line of Stellar Ships were working just fine, or they weren’t working at all. Something like that. Nathan didn’t know because this thought had lodged itself in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t find. It wasn’t painful though. Just distracting,
Finally, Nathan left work. The transport capsule landed him in front of his apartment, and after unlocking the door with his palm, he entered. The door slid shut silently behind him. Nathan rushed to his desk. He flopped into his chair and leaned back, letting the chair adjust to his form. Then he flicked the switch on the right arm of the chair and entered the Mind Space.
The room around him vanished. Usually the room melted away slowly. It was sudden this time, so eager was Nathan to get into his head and find the hidden thought. He was disoriented momentarily. The suddenness of his transfer from physical space to mental space didn’t give his mind time to organize itself into something rational that he could understand. For a moment he stood amidst all of his unfiltered thoughts and ideas and dreams, all represented as images stretching away into the infinite distance of his mind. Then they all rushed together and Nathan was standing in the bedroom in which he had grown up.
The thought wasn’t here, he could tell immediately. He pushed the walls away, and they fell, and now he was on the green of his college, staring at the library. He felt closer to the thought, in time anyway. He needed to get out of memory, but he sensed something related to the thought. He took a step forward and ended up in the library amidst rows of shelves lined with books. A sense of comfort permeated the atmosphere in the library. Nathan had always felt at home amongst books. But he needed to move on. He stretched his mind and took a step outside of memory and into something else.
He recognized this new mind space as dream. He was in a crowd, and the people who moved around him were always familiar, although they did not stay the same people. He recognized an old friend from high school who, as he walked, turned into Nathan’s brother. Dream space was difficult to get used to. Nathan breathed and focused, and got a sense of the terrain. He sensed the land of nightmares to his left and was grateful that he did not sense the thought there. He had dared brave the nightmare space only twice, and he was not eager to go back there. He formed an idea and brought it into the dream space. It was a map, and Nathan made it hover in front of him. It showed all the spaces inside his dream space. There was the nightmare space, and the anxiety space next to it. Then the space of memory dreams, and future dreams, and then hope dreams, and-
And that’s where the thought was. Nathan focused on the space of his hope dreams and felt it. No, it wasn’t the whole thing, but the thought was attached, a piece of it lived in the space where Nathan dreamed of hope. He ran toward it. Yes, he was very close now. This was the link. He reached the space and saw all the things he hoped for as they appeared in his dreams. Wealth and fame on the outskirts, and then happiness and company as he got further in. And then, a step beyond these, the piece of the thought. It was a face he recognized, and he knew then where to find the thought.
He took a breath to try to calm himself. The mind space he was about to enter was hard to visualize, and the connection would be hard to maintain. He had to focus. Another deep breath in and then out, and Nathan stepped into his emotions.
He was bombarded. The Mind Space tried to rationalize emotion into image. All it managed was a field of constantly shifting images that turned to colors and then to nothing Nathan could ever explain when he got out of the Mind Space. He focused on the thought, the lingering hidden thought and the field of emotion calmed down. And then in the distance, Nathan saw it. And he felt it. Warmth and joy and comfort, and also fear and anxiety, and hope, lots and lots of hope. And he held the thought, the emotion, and all the images faded except for this one, no longer hidden from him. The emotions condensed, showing Nathan the source of the thought, the emotion, the dreams of hope. She smiled at him.
The Mind Space faded. Nathan looked around at the physical world, and he smiled.
12th February 2013
18. The Crooks
The crooks ran down the street, looking over their shoulders for the pursuing hero. There he was, chasing them tirelessly, wearing garish hero attire.
“He’s chasing us tirelessly!” said the taller of the two. “Keep running!”
“I believe I shall!” said the other, who really was much shorter than his partner in crime. “I think that is a much better plan than letting him catch us!”
So they ran, both carrying their signature bags with dollar signs painted on them. The crooks were dressed in typical crook attire, all black with ski masks. The masks had holes for their eyes, noses and mouths, to facilitate breathing and demanding bank tellers to hand over the money. The crooks had tried masks with only holes for their eyes, but the muffling of their voices had only led to confusion. So, eye, nose, and mouth holes it was. They turned a corner.
“Bah!” shouted the taller crook. Another hero was waiting for them around the corner, wearing much more sensible clothes. The crooks skidded to a halt cartoonishly. The chasing hero rounded the corner, and the crooks were surrounded.
“Halt!” cried the hero from behind them, a bit redundantly. The crooks looked at their feet to verify that, yes, they had already stopped moving. “Hand over the money bag, you crooks!” the hero said much louder than necessary.
“If I had my preference,” said the shorter crook at a much more appropriate volume, considering his proximity to the heroes, “I would rather not.”
“Well, uh, no!” said the garish hero.
The tall crook turned to his mate and shrugged. “I do not know what kind of option we have, mate,” he said. “They have us surrounded, and they are heroes, and we are but humble crooks who have been caught fair and square.”
“I do not like this one bit!” cried the small crook. But he complied, and handed his money bag to the hero, and his tall partner followed suit. So the crooks were put away, and they were sad, because they had really wanted the money, and the heroes were celebrated, and that was that.
16th February 2013
19. The Presidents
The newly elected president was sitting at his desk in the oval office when the two suited gentlemen came to see him. There was something odd about these gentlemen, the president thought. Like they carried a secret. “Mr. President,” said the gentleman on the right. “First, congratulations. Second, please come with us.”
“What for?” The president asked, wary.
“We will tell you on the way,” said the other gentleman. The president could hardly tell the two apart. “There is more to this office than you realize.”
The gentleman who had spoken first crossed to the desk, took a square piece of metal from his coat pocket, and placed it on the desk. The desk began to hum, and the president stood quickly and stepped away. And then the desk sank into the ground and was replaced by a set of stairs leading down. The stairs spiraled as the descended, so the president could not see what lay at the bottom.
“Come with us,” said the gentlemen. One led the way down the stairs, and the other followed behind the president. They went down and down, and then the stairs ended and they were in a large cavern. The ceiling rose many feet above. And they were not alone.
A large circular table dominated the space, and around the table sat many men. To the president’s shock, he realized that he recognized many of the faces.
“Welcome to the Legion of Presidents!”
They were all there. Washington, both Adamses, Lincoln. It was impossible, and the president said so.
“We are perhaps the largest secret in the world,” George Washington said, and the current president nearly fainted. “There are forces in the world that seek to destroy it, and I realized early that we would need a group to combat these forces. So, we found a serum that counteracts the effects of time on our bodies. And now you are one of us.”
So, the current president accepted a shot of serum, sat at the table with these legendary men. A screen flickered to life at one end of the room, displaying a map of the world. And the meeting of the Legion of Presidents began, deep in the ground beneath the White House.
18th February 2013
20. The Rain
Rain was what they needed right now, most of all. Just a bit of rain. They were the growers, and they needed things to grow. The rainer had been away from their town for quite some time, on a mission of aid to the town to the south.
“When do you think our rainer shall return?” one asked the other. This one was a tall man, and broad. His companion was a woman, tall as well, and strong.
“I do not know, and I fear for him,” she said in return, “because the woods between our towns a dark and filled with fierce creatures.”
“Without our rainer, we will not be able to grow our crop, and then what will the townsfolk eat?” said the man in his rumbly voice.
“I think it is time we sought out the towns finder,” the woman replied in a voice that rivaled the man’s in rumbliness.
And so the two growers went into town to find the finder. He was where he usually was, in the inn, drinking a coffee. It was said that coffee aided his finding. The growers sat down at his table and told him of their plight. The finder was eager to help. It had been a slow finding season, he explained, and was glad to have work, especially work that would help the town. “I will set off on this quest, once I assemble a team. For though I am good at finding, I shall need some aid.”
It was the next day when the finder finally set out on his journey, accompanied by a protector, a haggler, and a driver. All the town gathered to see them off, for they were a small town, and everyone knew of the quest. And they were all aware of the need for the rainer’s return. It was another two weeks before the travelers returned, successful but not unscathed, to the town. Tell us of your journey cried the townsfolk! But the travelers were tired, the events of their journey harrowing, and they wished to rest. But the finder agreed to tell the storyteller of what transpired. The storyteller was, as is tradition, the oldest and wisest of the townsfolk. This town’s storyteller was a woman, her hair white and full, and generally wild. She had a light in her eyes that belied her age, and her mind was swift and clever, and she was well respected in the town. She and the finder retired to a private room, and the finder told her of the quest.
The next night, the townsfolk gathered in the town center, and many fires were lit. Then the storyteller came down from her hut on the top of the hill to the west of the town, and she stood amidst the townsfolk. The everyone was silent.
And the storyteller began the story. And when the story was over, it began to rain.
23rd February 2013
Impulsive Stories vol. 3 – #11-15
Welcome to another installment of Impulsive Stories! These are brain-to-page stories with minimal editing, and were originally posted on blogspot. Enjoy some oddness!
11. The Snow
Richard stepped off the train as soon as the doors hissed open in front of him. The winter wind bit and tugged at him, swirling the soft, fresh snow around his feet as he stepped onto the platform. Flakes adorned his head and nose and shoulders, and he tugged his coat tighter around his neck to ward off the cold. He watched his breath in the air, coiling fog that soon disappeared into the chill. Lamps on the snow-covered platform did their best to cut the darkness, but only managed to highlight the falling snow. Footprints from the other passengers faded quickly under a fresh coating of whiteness. It was easy for Richard to forget he was not alone. He looked across the bay to the big city, lights in the distance. The falling snow was like a curtain, hiding the city, keeping it from Richard, leaving it forever in the distance. The bay was black. Richard could not see the dark water, he could only see the snow. Behind him, the train screeched to a start and he listened to it roll away, the electric rail sparking, illuminating the night briefly and then plunging Richard back into the darkness, leaving him with the snow. Keeping his grip tight on his briefcase, he walked into the station. Once he got under a roof, he shook as much snow off of his coat and out of his hair as he could. Wet footprints led him into florescent lights and graffiti. He smelled piss and ignored the man asking for his change. He walked back out into the snow. He followed the sidewalk down a set of stairs to the dock. The ferry sat there, lonely and forlorn, waiting. Richard got on.
Richard walked through the city streets. The snow hid the building tops, opening the sky. Richard had the sense of traveling through space passing stars at great speeds. He knew where he was and where he was going, but he was still lost. Nothing is familiar when it is covered in snow.
27th January 2013
12. The Warrior
MIGHT! Is what the warrior screamed at the rushing army. And that is what he got. A beam of something came from somewhere and hit him square in the beefy chest. And all of a sudden it became even beefier. The beef was astoundingly beefy and if you looked at him you would not have even thought it was possible to stick so much beef into one warrior’s chest, but there it was. And he became mighty. Really very mighty and he took on the hordes all by himself and you know what? He won. Totally and completely. He slaughtered the entire army of demon possessed monkey soldiers and he wasn’t even injured at all. So that was pretty cool for him, wasn’t it? But back at the land to the demon monkeys, the families of the slaughtered soldiers mourned. And there was one small child monkey who vowed revenge. He grew up training and got really fierce and vicious and was a really good fighter. Then, years later, he knew he was ready. So he set out to the land of the mighty beefy warrior. It was a long journey and he was really tired when he got there, but he didn’t want to wait any monger. So he fought the warrior right there. It was a good plan, because the warrior happened to be sleeping. And then he happened to be dead, because the monkey thing killed him in his sleep. And then the monkey felt like he had wasted all those years of training. But then he had to fight his way home, so it all worked out. Then in the sequel, the monkey boy took on an evil kingdom, so the training was even more useful. Then eventually he started training warriors, so that was good. And then he went back in time somehow and trained the warrior who killed all of his relatives. That sucked and was pretty weird. But that is how it goes. Sometimes you travel back in time somehow. It’s just the way the world goes.
28th January 2013
13. The Cheese
Jefferson Mathis went to the store and bought a pile of cheese. He went home and sat on it and proclaimed himself the king of the cheeses. He demanded that all the world’s cheese be stamped with his name and that all the proceeds be given to him. Somehow, this actually happened. That’s why all cheese is labeled JM. In time there arose an underground cheese ring. They stamped their cheese slightly differently. They tried to match the stamp but were unable to get the J just right. But still, they fought the power of the cheese king. By this time, the king had used his power to grab lands and had his own country even. And his own army, which is the major point. He also got word of this underground cheese ring and sent spies to uncover it. But the cheese ring was good. They switched bases every few days. Irregularly, so as to not provide any kind of pattern. And they amassed power of their own. And an army of their own. They stole the plans to the cheese king’s secret cheese base. But now, he was the cheese emperor, and had begun to violently seize other nations. The cheese ring, now the cheese rebellion, had to act. They got a major lucky break, too. A plucky young fellow who was the son of an old hero came by. He brought with him the last remaining servant of an ancient order of magical warriors. The cheese rebellion leaders were cool with that. So the time came for the attack on the cheese emperor’s secret giant ass base that everyone could see and everyone knew where it was. They all flew out in cool ships with lasers. They had a big space battle and lots of people died. It’s not clear why they were in space because all of this happened on the same planet, but there you go. If you have the technology, I guess. So they had a space battle, and the plucky young hero finally got through the defenses and zapped the secret cheese empire base and it exploded everything. And then it was a good thing they had space ships, because the secret cheese base was so big that the explosion destroyed the entire planet. Then the rebellion took their planet killing power and became the new empire and started enslaving people and bad stuff, and then it all happened again. The end.
30th January 2013
14. The Assignment
Arnold woke up and ate breakfast. He looked at his clock and sighed. Then he looked at his clock and checked the time. He was on time, like always. He hadn’t changed his routine in seven years. He woke up, ate breakfast, looked at the clock, sighed, looked at the clock, checked the time, then went to work. Work for Arnold was very tedious. Most of it was clean up. His actual job was over is seconds. Arnold killed people for a living. He was good, but his reputation had not yet spread to the point where he had his own cleaners. He had to do the whole thing himself. On one hand, he was sure that it was done correctly. On the other hand, he had to do everything himself. Arnold finished breakfast and walked over to his holo-console. Three assignments popped up, arranged in order of deadline. The top assignment was due today. A very large man with his hands in too many pies was trying to eat another, and Arnold’s client wanted him stopped violently. Arnold suited up. He wore armor over his torso, because you never knew what you were going to get into. He wore sturdy boots for stability. His outfit was all dark grey. He strapped on his guns and then put on his hat. He wore a hat for style. He went out the door.
The very large man was due in the city center at noon. The only way there was the rail system, and that is where Arnold waited. Finally the large man arrived. He was even larger than his holo had appeared. He was a wide as three people, and he smelled like all three had never bathed. Arnold wondered how such a man had become so important, but only briefly. His job was on. He pulled his small knife from his belt and walked up to the large man, making sure to breathe through his mouth. He crouched as if to tie his shoe, and as the target passed, he stood quickly, smashing his head into the man’s chin and driving the knife into his chest. Arnold shoved, but looked like he was reaching out to apologize. The large man staggered and fell on the tracks. Then the next train came and the man was vaporized by the hover treads. Arnold really enjoyed the public assignments. The clean up was unnecessary.
5th February 2013
15. The Author
Another story! Prolific author Rutabaga Jones just spurted them out. Almost secreted them from his pores. It was really gross. He made nasty sucking noises while he wrote. And then he published. He usually wrote five or six hundred stories a year! Everyone was awestruck. Then some writers got jealous, because Rutabaga’s style was so chameleon-y that no one published anyone else’s stories anymore. Rutabaga wrote in all the genres and became the only author anyone ever read. But that was the start of his rise as global then galactic emperor. He started weaving subliminal messages into his writings and people began to believe that he would be great as a world leader and so they made him one. His first act was to request all the cheesecake. He did very much love cheesecake. So he ate it all and became very very fat. Then the world was not big enough, quite literally, it could not hold him, so he had his minions build him a space container and was launched into space and from there, took over the galaxy. It was quite a sight to see. He had the best weapons installed on his container and he floated around blowing things up. To this day, people still rule in the name of Rutabaga Jones, though he has to be dead. That was two thousand years ago. He is totally dead- oh no! there he is! He’s coming to get me! He’s screaming about blasphemy! He is so big! He’s the size of the moons! No don’t get closer! The world can’t take it! Kaboom!
11th February 2013
An introduction to Uuleg
Uuleg was born of boredom, while I sat in front of a Los Angeles karaoke bar, occasionally inspecting the identification of those inclined toward drunken singing. The bar had its dedicated regulars, but it was not often busy. So I had five hours each Friday and Saturday night to contemplate the endless ticking of time as my life inched irrevocably forward.
I faced my endless march toward death armed only with a pen and notebook, the power of imagination, and an eager inclination toward improvisation.
Uuleg comics are created in the moment, and so Uuleg lives in the moment.
Uuleg didn’t find his name until a gathering of friends, several months after his creation. I doodled the character on the white board we were using for a drawing sort of game and asked what his name might be.
“Something Scandinavian, like Uuleg,” a friend suggested. He was correct.
Uuleg isn’t always strictly happy. He is exactly what he is, when he is it.
I’m writing about Uuleg now, because I want him to be around more often. He makes me smile, every time. I want him to have a place of his own, which will need building.
I’ve given the fellow a bow-tie and a position in his uuniverse. Future Uuleg coming soon to a somewhere near you.
Impulsive Stories Vol. 2 – #6-10
#6: The Salon
#7: The Plan
#8: The Mastermind
#9: The Library
Time passed differently in the library of eternity. Minds worked differently. He found himself remembering more clearly than he thought possible all the things that he read. He read more swiftly. He understood more words than he thought he knew. Every now and then a librarian buzzed by on wheels, quietly scanning the books with their electric eyes. At one point he asked a question. “How does anyone ever leave this place?”
“Readers leave as they wish, when they have filled themselves with such knowledge as they desire.”
“Who has been here the longest?”
The librarian paused for a moment, its electric brain processing the knowledge. Then it spoke. “There is one who has been here for seven hundred years, relative time. There is no aging in the Library.” Another pause. More processing. “There is another who has been here seventeen thousand years. He has not been seen for five thousand.”
“How many books are in the Library?”
“That is unknowable.”
“Who built the library?”
“That is unknowable.”
“How old is the library?”
“That is unknowable.”
He let the librarian continue on its errand. He wondered what it looked like at the top of one of the shelves, if there was a top. He summoned a ladder and climbed. As he got higher, something strange happened. The shelves began to look more and more natural, as though they were growing. He had started off counting steps, but lost count at two thousand when he stumbled upon a particularly rare book. He kept climbing, wondering only briefly that he was not tiring. Another marvel of the Library. And then the shelves began to grow branches. The branches formed paths. He dismounted the ladder and began to walk among the branches of the Library of Eternity.
Impulsive Stories Vol. 1 – #1-5
In 2010, I began a little creative writing project for which I wrote many tiny stories without planning. These improvisations still make me giggle, so I’m bringing them back from the old blogspot and presenting them here on the Oddyssey. I’ll post them in five story chunks for you to enjoy!
#1: The Walk
One last time, he checked his shoes. They had been new, once, like everything else. He put his foot down and looked straight ahead. The tree stood atop the hill, as it had when his shoes were new. With a grunt, he began to walk. It was not far to the tree. He reached it soon and passed it. The tree was no longer important, and he gave it one short glance and a knowing nod as he walked by. That time was gone, and he needed to move past it. And he did. The hill dwindled as he walked. He knew where he was headed, but he told no one. Those he came across he greeted with a slight nod and continued walking. In time, he began to meet other walkers. At first, he was perturbed. He had expected to walk alone, and was hesitant to welcome others to his journey. However, with each knowing smile from those that joined in, he began to feel glad for the company. Soon, the walkers numbered in the dozens, then hundreds. More and more gathered, each looking at the others and nodding. They knew where they were headed. None said a word.
17th September 2010
#2: The Radishes
There were twelve radishes. Only twelve, if that seems like a small number. All of them were that reddish radish color, which is appropriate. In that way, none stood out. Martin put them all in his soup, even if you think that radishes should not be in soup. It doesn’t matter where you think radishes belong, these twelve were in Martin’s soup. Stop complaining. I believe it is time for me to tell you that despite their very normal color and very regular size (which I have not mentioned, but trust me, they were not at all larger or smaller than a normal radish) these radishes were not normal. Martin was about to find out how strange they were when someone knocked on his door. Martin put his spoon of radish soup back into his bowl, stood, and slowly walked over to the door. Being a peculiar chap, he knocked back. This back and forth knocking went on for several minutes. Then, bored, Martin went back to his soup and ate a bite. He kept spooning spoonfuls of radish and broth into his mouth. Soon, the bowl was empty. You won’t believe what happened next, so I won’t tell you.
22nd June 2011
#3: The Toothpaste
There was enough toothpaste. Really, it was an excessive amount, but no one ever thought to complain. It had been there long before anyone could remember, that pile of toothpaste. It was, in fact, the center of town, and every morning and every evening the townsfolk would circle the pile and dip their toothbrushes in it. This was the ritual. You might think at this point that these people had the whitest, cleanest teeth ever to grace the face of humanity. This was, unfortunately for anyone close to their faces, not even almost true. This paste was sacred to the townsfolk. They could never do anything like stick it in their mouths. And spit it out onto the ground? Or, even worse, into the sink to travel down the pipes into the sewers, there to mingle with poo? Such an act would get a man sacrificed. This was, in fact what happened to one unlucky traveller. He wandered into this town tired, clothes torn, bleeding from multiple cuts. Stumbling through the streets, he came upon the pile. “What luck,” he said aloud for no reason, “for I have forgotten my toothpaste.” What unfortunate last words. The toothpaste gods devoured him.
26th June 2011
#4: The Catch
Fourty pieces of light blue paper floated off the top of the hill. Jacky Hecklesmith watched as they flittered through the air, twisting and fluttering like possessed butterflies. Jacky looked to his right. Lined up in an arc, figuratively pulsing with anticipation, were the other twelve catchers. Each had his own technique, and they all were frozen in their initial stances. Jacky took a deep breath, raised his net over his head, and fixed his eyes on the bits of paper. Cracka-boom! The sound of the starter pistol echoed through the glen as the thirteen catchers launched themselves toward bits of blue. Nets whizzed and whirred, twirled and danced through the air, snatching up the fluttering pieces. Jacky leaped into the air, and with a massive swipe, snagged three bits at once. He landed, flicked his net to the right and made a grand loop upwards. Three more scraps of blue found themselves ensnared. Then Jacky saw it. A huge cluster of paper, gyrating around each other, staying together. It looked like almost ten pieces, maybe even twelve. Jacky set his sites and readied a heroic swoop. With victory in his eyes, Jacky Hecklesmith raised his net and leaped.
1st July 2011
#5: The Climb
He had nineteen minutes left. He had to get all the way to the top. Time was running out, but still, Alfie McBittrem was not afraid. He was the best climber ever. The little flying pig-shaped fairy kept poking Alfie. “Hey!” it kept saying. Then it would point. Alfie swatted the pig-like pest. It let out a twinkly shriek as the slap sent it fluttering into a crumpled heap on the ground. It twitched, stood on its piggy feet, raised one plump hand in a fist with its rudest finger raised, and shouted, “Hey! Fuck you!” But Alfie was already halfway up. This was good, because he only had twelve minutes left. Slapping the pig-fairy had jumped him forward in time seven minutes. Alfie filed this away as a fact worth remembering and climbed on, pondering the many possible uses of time-slapping. When he finally reached the top, he summoned the cat-faced dragon that dwelled there. The furry dragon almost landed on Alfie and brought its pink nose inches from his face. With a wiggle of its three-foot-long whiskers, it meowed like only a giant cat-faced dragon could and said “Good job, bitch. Now get the fuck off my Legos.”
30th July 2011
Space Eyeballs
This painting was a lot of different things. There was a different space ship. There were no eyeballs. And it sat there, on my easel, on my wall, looking quite normal to my eyes.
“I ain’t here to be normal! I’m trying to make an odd name for myself!”
I have of late, and wherefore I think I know, become enamored of eyeballs, particularly when they are in space and attached to odd things. The wherefore? A little video game a friend and I played called Look Outside.
In this game, the player is a resident of an apartment building who must figure out why everyone who looks outside keeps mutating. One family across the hall mutates into teeth creatures, for example.
I will not spoil the truth behind the story, but it lingers, doods. And while I have not mutated into a teeth creature (I promise) I have developed a yearning for the ocular in my cosmos.
Earlier in my artistic life, I styled myself the space artist and dedicated myself to drawing space. Lately, our own space is not enough. Currently I am peeking through the membrane to see other worlds, eyeball worlds. I hope you enjoy the ride!
These are just a few examples of my eyeball illustrations. I’m excited to improve and get odder.
Portfolio Update
I’m changing how this works to try to streamline things for myself. Have a picture!
I’m pretty deep in my space eyeballs era, and this is an early oil pastel on black paper.
Space Oddyssey 