Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.


    • Illustration
    • My Videos
    • The best of Hookers or Cake
    • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.


      Amazon.com Widgets

      -------------------------------------- more fun categories


      • Inspiration
      • art
      • ----------------------------------------- some tumblr friends


        • Rrrick
        • Fuzzy Dave
        • Wonder Tonic
        • ----------------------------------------- some writing


          • Josh Luft
          • I'm a Veronica
        • Mr. King was here
          • Aloha Friday
          tell me lies! Submit stuff
          • April 15, 2010 10:43 pm
            dreamed about you againa sun soaked roomchildren playing and singinga purse full of kittens on the bedlater in the backyardyou show methe wound in your chest.“No more fish to catch…” you smilestaring off into the distance. The summer dusk alreadyswimming its silence down around you.

            dreamed about you again
            a sun soaked room
            children playing and singing
            a purse full of kittens on the bed

            later in the backyard

            you show me
            the wound in your chest.
            “No more fish to catch…” you smile
            staring off into the distance.

            The summer dusk already
            swimming its silence down around you.

            1. reblogged this from hookersorcake and added:
            2. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            3. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            4. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            5. hookersorcake posted this