Where do they all belong?

The Industry

The Industry

I’ve just decided to throw up some pics I’ve been messing with, some sketches and pictures:

This is everybody’s favorite bballin, hip-hoppin, scholar – or as we like to call him, TD3.

The Hip-Hop Philosopher

The Hip-Hop Philosopher

This next one is a manipulated image from a sketch I did a while back.  I have no idea what it symbolizes, but I thought it was appropriate for Valentines.

I made up the title.

I made up the title.

So my internet connect is playing head games with me so I’m gonna lay off the heavy files and just write some shiz up that will be reverent, witty, and most likely boring…

I saw a younger me today playing bball at the park by ourselves.  He was so much like me, down to the style and shyness around strangers.  It made me smile and I tried to show off a bit so he could be hopeful for the future, or something.

Kathryn Maris asked, “Will you love me better when I’m dead?”  I have no idea who Kate is, but the question is a doozy, no?  I don’t even want to ask real people that question (as opposed to fake people).

I was reading through the New Yorker and came across some old Jack Handey – my favorite part is the fake obituary and what he would want his epitaph to read: “He passed away after a long, courageous battle with honkey tonkin’ and alley cattin’.”  Not a bad way to go, in fact it is probably preferable, especially the alley cattin’.

The Rumpus.net led me to this YouTube video that is pretty fucking great.  I urge you all to head over to The Rumpus, it is a fantastic new literary magazine without any pretension and features completely original work as well as links around the web to other good things worthy of your time.

This is by Oren Lavie and I don’t know anything about him beside the fact that this is his song. I hate the name Oren because of this stupid ass psycho kid in college who later ended up getting tossed in the clink for stealing dough from the register where he worked.  Good for him, his pot sucked too and was overpriced.

In other news, as Joyce knew, ’tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind.  I know a lot of loud laughers, myself included at times.  Whoever said an empty mind wasn’t a good thing never got laid.

I also flicked over to Fancast.com (a Hulu sibling) and watched last week’s episode of The Office.  Pam had a great quote when she was talking about how she wants everybody to like her: “I even hate thinking Al-Qaeda hates me.”  She’s so cute.

Speaking of laughs, here’s an all-time favorite Dave Chappelle segment:

It was an old limo…

The library is having a book sale today and I picked up nine books for three bucks – fucks yeah ballin on a budget.  I got:

Kurt Vonnegut’s Timequake, Cat’s Cradle and Slaughterhouse Five

Thornton Wilder’s The Cabala

Camus’ The Fall

Dylan Thomas’ Quite Early One Morning

Milan Kundera’s Life Is Elsewhere

The Oxford Book of American Short Stories

and

Literature for Understanding – Poems, Stories, Drama

I should be set for a good time now.  After finishing Hopscotch, I hope these can even hold a candle.

That’s all folks,  I finished a bang-up job for a client about some shit like the art of reading and I’m still hungover a bit – check out my hooliganry from last night in the previous post.  Anyway,  I think I’m going to heal my wounds with a beer and some basketball – on TV cuz I don’t even want to think about exercise.

Happy Valentines Day to all you love-struck slaves, I will be making love to literature cuz I’m cool like that.  I’ve escaped Shawshank mu-fuckas, go buy some more jewelry and chocolate and dinners, lengerie and love, videotape it, and make copies just in case you need some leverage in divorce court down the line.

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~ by garcialoca on February 14, 2009.

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