Hookers or Cake

I suffered from horrible anxiety as a child, I was afraid much of the time. I was ok as long as I was playing or drawing or reading stories but as life went on I found out you couldn’t always be doing that. And the fear would come.

I had a homework assignment in first grade that I didn’t do. I felt so trapped and scared… It sounds insane but I remember taking a freshly sharped #2 pencil and stabbing it up into my nostril and then doing the other side too. With both nostrils bleeding I got up and went to the teacher’s desk she took one look at me and pointed at the door. “Go to the bathroom, I’ll send the nurse.” So I walked down to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Blood was running down my lips and dripping off my chin. I stared until I felt an unusual warmth slowly blooming inside of me. It was like I was slomotion exploding of intense happiness. I closed my eyes and saw an old hooded man with a beard holding a blue glowing sword, It was Obi One Kenobi just as I’d seen him a year earlier in Star Wars. The nurse came and cleaned me up and let me lay on a cot in a dark room.

After that incident I found that whenever I faced anxiety or fear I could just close my eyes for a moment until I felt the warm buzzing blue inside of me. I’d see the eyes of the old man just before he lifted his sword and allowed himself to be killed. I’d open my eyes and let the fear slaughter me. It felt like bliss.

Ohhh ODB - why do you mock us with your transcendent knowledge of reality?

Once again Saint Dirt McGirt sums up the book of Revelations in 5 seconds.

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The Buddha was a total shit head

not happy with being king

he wanted everlasting peace and enlightenment.

That’s humans for you

already have heated leather seats

but we want heaven and nirvana too.

We’d just arrived at my parents place for Thanksgiving Day Dinner and my Uncle strode over. “So that story in your book, the one about the robot who couldn’t cum, is that supposed to be about me?” “Hey Roger,” I say, shaking my Uncles hand. “This is Shelly, my girlfriend. Shelly, this is Roger.”

I didn’t know you couldn’t cum,” I said. “Yeah, ever since I started taking those blood pressure pills. I can still get it up though,” he smiled. “I just never achieve orgasm. I can hammer away all night and nothing.” ”So do you fake orgasm?” I said, making myself an Hors d’oeuvre plate. “No, dumbass I’m talking about jacking off!” he hollered. “Oh, yeah, that would be kinda silly,” I agreed, “but in my robot story, the robot fakes ejaculation.” “Oh?” he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah,” I continue, “he discharges oil from his middle finger and flicks it on the gorilla’s back.”

 - sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong…

Sometimes I don’t understand America. Things were so much simpler in Poland. For instance when one would go to the zoo, you’d give the man at the gate 10 Zloty and he’d take you back into a darkened room and ask you what kind of animal you wanted to see. You’d say, “A wolf?” and an attractive woman would come in and slap you. “You dumb mother fucker,” she’d say, “there are no wolves in a zoo!” and then she’d spit on you and leave.

Hey I put my full color Kurt Vonnegut t-shirt design on Zazzle.com. It features design elements from his books. My favorite is the fur collar covered with assholes.

Whenever I feel a twinge of guilt

for having a second diet root beer.

I try to remember to breathe and repeat

my mantra

“We are vibrating piles

of star dust

wired like a

mother fucking toaster.”

I always liked this old Breton painting and I’m surprised Nick Cave never used it for an album cover. I actually used to own a print of it only I lost it to some dude (seriously the guy was a total bro) in a card game. I dunno why he wanted it. I think his girlfriend liked it or something. Whatever the case, she sure liked me. I was pretty drunk. I think that was the same summer I lost my grandfather’s knife in the river.

I never met my grandfather, my parents never had anything to do with him after he lost the farm. We’d drive by him from time to time when I was little. He’d just be standing on the corner in town with his two foot beard and his old wool coat wrapped in barbwire, muttering to himself. They said he carried an old seed bag on his side. It was full of beer caps and teeth. He salted the earth liberally with the mixture wherever he went. He was the sower and wherever he went he sowed.

After he died my father inherited all his old tools. His knife was mixed in with them, almost a foot long and made of steel. I stole it from my Dad and gave it to the river the summer after I got out of the Army.

TGIF

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