In these troubled times (part .5 of 11,000) (yeah its a little bit of a false start)

Um, I dunno. I'm having a good time.


looks like there is some rough shit on the news tho'.

fuck.




but, somehow, I find an occasional calm peace in the blatant hack fuckery that became spike lee's career.

ZING from out of nowhere!


you gave such hope, mookie. you've been shooting bricks from the free throw line for over a decade. fucking push us, you dick.

self portrait taken at a distance. i DO like to lounge. I bark less than this guy though.

the manhunt is fucking on. I enlisted the help of his father (57 yrs old, pictured) who said he had a posse forty deep. (you know, actually................maybe his father said he was penis deep in a forty, I'm terible with accents.)

A letter to my mother.

Hey Ma,

I was thinking about it, and how weird is it that I once “lived” (if you could really call that “living,” in the social sense) inside you? My whole body, not just the relatively smaller parts, used to be housed inside you. All my thoughts, habits (although then limited), heroics (still to this day, limited) and vices (growing every day, thank you.) were fully contained inside this swelled cavity that made you somewhat awkward when climbing stairs and damned hysterical to watch dance… I’ve drifted off topic.

Anyways, I was thinking about that last night when I cooked and ate 4 pounds of chicken and I was thinking… If I was really, really hungry, like starving, ribs exposed, scruffy junk yard dog level of hungry… I could prob’ choke down 5 pounds of that delicious chicken.


It occurred to me….

You must have felt so full, like all the time.

And for that, Ma….

I salute you, for feeling what must have been TERRIBLY full.

Jesus, 9 pounds of chicken? you can fucking forget that.