Be My Baby

I made a new video. Music supplied by The Ronettes. Best song ever. Should be the national anthem.

Be My Baby from Kid Douche

It Hoits When I Pee

Saw "The Hurt Locker" last night. Wow... just, wow! The most visceral movie I've seen in a while.




My only complaint is that there weren't enough hurt lockers. I actually counted zero hurt lockers throughout the entire film.

I mean, come on! This guy needs work...

Erik Threatens All Comers - New Year's 2010

Rise up against the tyranny of restraint!

Thunder Spook Juice

True story time!


I went to a loft show/party last night called Go Folk Yourself. It was less of a show and more like an uncomfortable smoky speakeasy in a building situated 20 feet away from a gas station. The performers had nice guitars and courage, but couldn't sing for shit. I tuned them out and struck up a conversation with a weird loner girl. Her hair was greasy, dyed red, and chopped all over the place. I noticed a picture button on her filthy satchel and asked her what it was.

She said, "That's the Hindu god, Ganesh."





There's a woman on the button as well. I ask about her and who she's supposed to be. She answers, "Oh, that's Ganesh's mother."

I respond, "A woman giving birth to an elephant? That doesn't happen too much these days."

She asks me what I mean, and I reply, "The way I understand it, with the world as it is now, it's impossible for a woman to give birth to an elephant god. No way. Not happening."

And she says, "Well, maybe you're limiting the way you experience life."





After she said that, I got scared and wanted to run away so I never had to talk to her again, but that would have been a breach of etiquette, so I hung in there. Who am I to violate the sanctity of human interaction?

She stared at me and I went silent. Her big fuckin' crazy eyes were burning a hole through my head. This went on for a minute and then I saw her lips move as she said something. I asked her to repeat what she said because I couldn't hear with all the music going.

She looks at my forehead and says, "Do you have any change?"

I say, "What?"

"I need some money for the bus. Can you give me a nickel?"

I reply, "No. I don't carry change around. I don't like the weight of it in my pockets."

What I wanted to say was, "Fuck you, shitty idiot!" And I wanted her face to melt away, revealing some intergalactic bird head. I'd like her to sprout wings and fly out the window like a psycho buzzard. I really wanted some supreme moment to occur.

But she just awkwardly shuffled away from where we were standing. And I couldn't have been more relieved.

Because of Loopy Feelings, Brainless Ramblings

Late last night, I took a look at some of the stuff I had written over the summer. Most of it was written in August, when I tried to reform my sleep schedule by getting up at 9am everyday. I should have known how hard it was going to be, and I've never had a lot of faith in my ability to change without external motivation anyway. And the reward for getting my sleeping habits on track was this: an optimistic mood that I might feel. That's a vague and stupid reward. Plus, trying to change behavioral patterns is an awful idea for a person who prides himself on never deviating from a personal code of arbitrary limitations. And staying up all night is really fun.

So, I got up at 9 everyday, but I also went to sleep at 5am every night. Altering your sleep schedule doesn't work if you're not sleeping very much. It just leads to brain ghosts and foggy journeys of low grade suffering.

Tension and mental unrest were my companions. I felt dizzy all the time, a nervous breakdown wasn't entirely out of the question, and I had intense cravings for hoisin sauce.

It turned into a horrible failure of a time, filled with panic attacks that eventually lead me to seek therapy - but that's another story.

Here are some slightly edited paragraphs and poems written during that period. Slightly edited because the raw material scared the Polish right out of my DNA...



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


boom boom!
bath house poundings
bam bam!
human growth in a foul place





Poltergeists threw up inside my van. My van is your van. Poody poody hoo! Do as I say! I will ruin you! Suck my cocks! Do you suck dicks? Do. You. Suck. Dicks?

Farts smell bad. She gots lots o’ cousins. Can I have some pills, please?

Sylvester has a ball containing the meat of splendor. What fury it must arouse!





Heed this: Once the destruction starts and the lumber crumbles, it will be easier to find a mate who is more afraid of the end than you. Calm that person and take them underground where the sun is collected through stories and rumors.


Gun black glistening night.
Satisfied smoke.
Is sister alright?
No.
Sister is dead.
Long live the smoke from
father's gun.





Shit, I gotta go, man. I just microwaved my Sega.

Because He Pilfered My Bliss

My cousin threw a Christmas party the other night, and I initially didn't want to go, because he has a drug problem, and is often in the company of vaguely dangerous men. I was gonna blow it off and tell him I had a migraine, but feeling somewhat reckless from the built up boredom of winter, I put on my thrash face and went over.





Upon arriving, I felt overwhelmed by the amount of people already there. Dozens of beautiful women were walking around, and I could tell that most of them had drug problems, too, which somehow made them even more attractive. On the flip-side, a gruesome slut gauntlet guarded the kitchen, glaring at me through overly made-up eyes as I grabbed a beer from the fridge. I was able to avoid a conversation with them, but couldn't avoid their smell, which could only be described as a vortex of swordfish and rubber cement.





I stood by the stairs, drank my beer, and spied on a passionate conversation between a terribly skinny girl and a coked up Korean man. He kept yelling at her about not being respected, and how he couldn't stand it. She just stood there and took it with a weary face.

"No! I need more money! You still owe me 6 dollars for the meatball sub you threw in the fireplace!" he frothed. I couldn't control my laughter. The 'Rean dude saw me laughing at him, came over, and mumbled something in my ear about how much pain he could inflict upon me, about honor, and some other abstract macho bullshit. His face was bright red and glowing with sweat.





He poked his finger hard into my chest, which triggered the instinctual rage he desperately wanted me to feel, and I took a swing at his head. My fist connected with his left temple and his eye popped out. It didn’t even bleed. The eye just lay there on the hardwood floor, while the party-people stared. Time stood still and everything went quiet for a minute. Then the terribly skinny girl screamed, which caused time to start up again, and the empty socket vomited red gravy. Party over.





I finished the night alone in my apartment, with the lights off, eating ice cream from the pocket of the bathrobe I was wearing.

Carl Winslow's Corner: Mescaline Matters

Hello dream childrens! It’s your ol’ violent buddy Carl! Carl Winslow! It’s been awhile since we last spoke, and I’ve been mighty busy in the forest with my experiments. So far, I’ve successfully given 12 badgers Crohn's disease and drank a beaker full of meows. Cat meows enhance my animal communication skills, which are pretty good anyway. The other day, a caribou was talkin’ shit, going on about my eye pimples, so I pushed that motherfucker in front of a train. Ol’ Carl knows a thing or two about trains.

Also, I've been shape shifting, baby. Gotta be careful, though. Last time I got caught in a rusty trap. What can I say? The hunters loaded the trap with my favorite food - Dots. I couldn't help myself.





I was in the forest conversing with squirrels the other day, and an itty bitty medicine man tackled me to the ground and force fed me some mescaline he pulled out of a condom. I got high, children. My shirt burst off, as well as most of my back skin. During the first 3 hours of my trip, I suffocated six hikers in my armpit.





I was inside a floating cloud of clear smoke. I destroyed every tent in my path. Met some women whose tents I smashed. When they defended themselves, I laughed. Popped some rattlesnakes at 'em. Wuppaa!!! I’m not proud of it, but also, I am. My spiritual advisor, Neck Bubbles, demands blood. I obey.





Then I ate some sand and had to go to the hospital. Have you ever tried to chew sand? It fucks your teeth up bad. And your insides. My guts were in a state, children. Luckily, the doctors were able to open my stomach up and get that filthy sand outta me. Turns out I ingested four pounds of it. They also found a bunch of super bouncy balls in me, but I made the doctors put 'em back in. Most doctors are shameless thieves. They just want to take what’s inside of you, and those bouncy balls are mine! They can keep the sand.





Let’s see, what else?
-Burned a hole in my bed so the floor can see my ass when I sleep.
-Hid a bunch of money somewhere secret.
-Tackled a polar bear down a flight of stairs.

Oh, I almost forgot! I’ve been writing poetry. Here’s one I call ROBOTS CAN'T GET PREGNANT ...

Gonna dick your coochie hole!

Gonna make your ass explode!

Gonna take a dump, unload!

Gonna bake your face, Nicole!




Time’s up, kids! But don’t worry, I'm in your closet right now, wearing your clothes.