Saturday, October 30, 2010

Soul Thieves

I dreamt that these little fuckers stole my soul through my ears...

Friday, October 29, 2010

Cancer Boy Sells His Soul

This comic was made for Wonderlust Comics' "Monster Mash" Theme
Check it out HEAR!

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Psychedelic Mind Parasite

This is a Psychedelic Mind Parasite feasting on the thought pathways of a human male (inspired by this drawing of mine)

Word Sounds Dribbling out of your Mouth Hole

I love it when someone asks you a question, and you begin to answer without thinking about what you're saying or what you're going to say, and then about halfway through your answer, you start to realize that the word sounds dribbling out of your mouth hole don't really reflect your true opinion. But then you begin to wonder if your "true" opinions are what you REALLY think, or if your "true" opinions are just the ideas and opinions that've been pumped into your system by everything, and everyone, that surrounds you. Do the things that we say when we're not paying attention reflect our inner, most basic, instinctual, honest thoughts? Does thought delude, how we really feel, with morals and concepts that've been force fed to us since birth?
I'd like to think that it doesn't.
That we have complete control over our own thoughts. That our opinions are ours, and our's alone.
As if we have a little secret sanctuary that is our mind.


The truth may very well be otherwise.

Mamries, er, i mean, Memories

I had a conversation with a friend a few weeks ago. About the absurd ephemerality of the human existence, and memory. How, an event, that we're living at that very moment, a moment that can mean everything to us...will become nothing more than a snapshot...a picture...a polaroid that we'll file away in the dark, dusty cob web ridden attic we call our mind. How, such a seemingly permanent state of being will become just another anecdote..a story we'll tell to friends over a spliff and a bottle of Georgi Gin......

It's kind of like a piece of gum you step on and don't realize. Then weeks later, when we're rifling through a closet with the intention of getting rid of old stuff to make more room for whatever piece of thing we just purchased, we'll find that crusty, brown old pair of shoes, and as we flip the shoes over to toss them into the garbage bag, we see the black piece of gum...lodged in between the grooves of at the bottom of the scares everything we do will become just...a faint reminder, of what we the emotions that we felt...that we were so convinced of and immersed in become a haphazardly highlighted sentence in a forty thousand page manuscript we will call our life...