krowface: xenomorph in full lotus position (Default)
Found out early this morning that my favourite uncle died. I can't find his obit.

He's "the uncle". The year was 1988. Gave me my first beer (PBR), handed me my first Playboy (LaToya Jackson) right off the rack.

I remember that night being so crisp and clear that the glowing ring around the moon practically touched the horizon. The smell of a wood burning stove always brings me back to that farm out in Pennsylvania.

I wouldn't be quiet the artist I am today if it wasn't for two books on his shelf. The Whole Earth Catalogue, and The Pin-Up Book. Both of them influenced me greatly, to the point I can still feel it today.

I don't think I've even seen him in 20 years. But I always think about him, just for a moment, every time I crack open a cold can of Pabst.

He died last year due to cancer, leaving behind two daughters and a wife. I didn't find out until this morning, due to... circumstances I don't feel a need to get into.

RIP Bob. Next beer's for you.
krowface: xenomorph in full lotus position (Default)
How never more appropriate a name than one who was never seen without a grin, nor had a sharper tongue for love of story. I will cherish for ever your laugh, your tales, the way you embraced life, and all those who crossed your path with open arms and a hearty slap on the back.

You brought more joy to so many than anyone else I have ever met.

One day, I know this, I will meet you again, on the other side of those heavenly gates, and you will be waiting for me with the finest of wines, the richest of meals, a wonderful story, and a few hot goth girls.

Just like you would for me in this world, so shall you the next.

Once again, thank you. My one regret will never had I a chance to tell you. Nor will I ever be greeted with your smile once more.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the sparkle in the snow.
I am the shredded leaves that blow.
I am the sunlight on growing grain.
I am the gentle summer rain.
I am the quiet bird at night.
Circling about; Taking flight.
So do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep."


And so God shall be amused hereforth by one serious fucking story teller. Say it true, and thank you kindly.
krowface: xenomorph in full lotus position (Default)
And I've dragged her away from all that has haunted her. And she's dragged right back to reality. A widow and a mother has called her.

The autopsy is wrong, the story never syncs up. Much like the stories from the mouth of the man and the people around him.

I'm drinking the wrong wine, and she's singing the right song. Do we have tobacco?

I've got the wrong ideas, and she's got the wrong plan. I'm looking right at her, and I'm seeing nothing, and I'm seeing everything she's got.

I'm a tree. The goddamned world tree. And my roots are deep and bloody, and my branches are whipped and torn asunder in a storm.

And I'm still standing. And the world I love is still safe beneath me.

"i'm just running with a fantasy world religious thing; but he embraced my goddess."

Thank god I'm here. Right here. There is no other place I would want to be. Giving everything, taking everything, accepting it all.

breathing, breathing, constantly breathing...

...

we are still alive. but right now, i don't know how to touch her.

November 2016

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