Click the image above if you want to view the entire work.

Again, that quality of stillness is there. Like everything is locked in place. There is the implied movement of the moths, flying above and out of the bird skull — but in reality they are still too, as if pinned to the surface.

Hmm.

Ok, I may talk shit about Marsha and Co., but I don’t want it ever to be said that I talked false shit.

Bumbling Bill was the person who told Jer that Marsha’s new establishment (we refer to it as her “Juke Joint”) was located right next door to her new residence. Wrong! Leave it to Bill — a person who lived in the same house with her — not to know the facts. Heh. Anyway, we’ve discovered that the bar is downtown; her house is maybe a mile or so away from it.

In a way, that makes me feel better. At least the kids won’t be hanging around with a bunch of drunken strangers. Until her mom brings them home, that is.

Speaking of Bumbling Bill, apparently I missed out on quite a show last night. Jer was in the bathroom and looked out the window, just in time to see Bill crawling around on his hands and knees on their enclosed porch, nearly NUDE, with ¾ of his butt crack flashing out of his shorts.

I just… God, I don’t even know how to imagine it.

Let’s put it this way: I’d rather have Ted Kennedy shoot me the moon with his flabbity liberal butt cheeks, and that’s saying a LOT. At least I could sell a picture of that rosy, yet traumatizing sight to the tabloids.

I’m sure there will be more crack sightings as the weather warms up and The Sucky Neighbors commence gutting and repairing their house.

Color me lucky!

In other news, it’s been agreed that I need to bump up the dosage of the Zoloft again. I was doing pretty good for about a week or so, but then I hit another slump. I half-heartedly joked to Dr. K yesterday that my neurotransmitter thingies are probably scabbed over from years of antidepressant use and nothing can get through anymore. He smiled and told me that’s not possible; that sometimes it just takes a while to reach the right therapeutic dose.

I know he’s right. I’m just glad someone is confident that I’ll work through this. It’s just really discouraging when it takes so damn long.

This just in from the home office in Mamboville…

Greetings, mamboers! Today’s theme is “Lend a helping hand day,” and I need your help. You can help me by answering the following questions:

1. What song, artist, or album has helped you through a rough time?

Billy Vera and the Beaters ~ At This Moment

38 Special ~ Second Chance

Bob Dylan – Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright

The Four Seasons — Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

2. Name at least one song with the word “Help” in the title. If you really can’t think of anything, a song by a certain British foursome is acceptable.

Billy Swan – I Can Help

Buddy Jewell – Help Pour Out The Rain

Four Tops ~ (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch) I Can’t Help Myself

Little Richard – The Girl Can’t Help It

3. A really good band has members who help each other play better. Sometimes it’s the entire band that clicks, and other times it’s a pairing of two people who would not perform the same without each other. Name me a band, pair of people or whatever other combination you like that fits the above description.

Simon and Garfunkel – Homeward Bound

Hall and Oates – Out of Touch

The Doors – Light My Fire

Jackson 5 – I Want You Back

The Mamas and the Papas ~ Dedicated to the One I Love

Thanks for stopping by for a visit… and remember, you have 7 days to snag ‘em if you want ‘em!

Happy Monday, my friends.

Not much to report on this weekend; it’s been storming a bit and I feel restless. I’ve got 3 pieces of artwork in process and I’ve reached a temporary impasse on each one.

And I’m having the most bizarre dreams ever. (Even by my standards.)

There is a beginning to the dream that I can’t recall, but the ending is always the same. At the end, I am walking through a very dark tunnel with an uneven floor. I feel like I have to be somewhere in a hurry, but I’m not sure if I am heading in the right direction.

It starts off quietly, but then rises to a booming level. It’s a voice from the past, one that I recognize from many years of watching sports on TV as a kid…

“Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”

What the hell is Howard Cosell doing in my head?

show / hide

Question:
What has ten legs, 5 loud mouths, two floppy boobs, smells like pee, beer and cigarettes, and zooms down the street in a truck loaded with bulging black trash bags?

Answer:
MARSHA AND THE SUCKY NEIGHBOR BRATS AS THEY ARE MOVING OUT!

I’m not shittin’ ya!

We saw evidence of a move occuring last weekend, but couldn’t quite tell what was going on. Afterall, we had heard numerous tales of Marsha and The Thuglets moving out before, but things always fell through at the last minute. We had been disappointed so many times in the past it was hard to be hopeful anymore.

But this time, it is true.

The bitch be gone! Filthy mouth, loud music, hit pipes and all. Gone! No more drug dealing, gun waving and public sex acts on the back deck!

And she even took her nasty brood of future criminals with her!

It’s like a dream come true!

Where did she go, you ask? According to my impeccably reliable sources this is the scenario:

Marsha bought a house. And a bar. A house and a bar right next to each other. She lives in the house and tends the bar. Something quite fitting for an alcoholic, isn’t it? Get drunk while you work, and then just make a short stumble next door to make sure the kids haven’t burned the house down yet.

Anyway, no one knows where she got the money to do this and quite frankly, no one cares. The only thing that matters is that she is out of our neighborhood, and hopefully it’s forever.

I would not be surprised in the least if her new “establishment” is being funded by other “entrepreneurs” from Chicago and will be used as a front for illicit activities. Let’s face it, she’s never going to change. She’s the same piece of crap she’s always been, she’s just splattered in a new location.

I have to admit; I am concerned for the kids and wonder what kind of awful things they’ll be exposed to. But who knows, maybe it is a positive turning point in their lives as well. I am sure the law and Child Protective Services will be watching Marsha even more closely than they did before.

And what about Bumbling Bill and BlackCherry? They are happy as fucking clams. They are replacing the destroyed front door to their house and changing all of the locks. They have purchased $3,000 worth of new furniture to replace what was ruined by Marsha and the kids. They are putting new floors in the house. (Yes, even the hardwood floors were wrecked!) Bill turned off the heat in the basement “Pee-a-torium”, where all of the children’s beds were and is planning on gutting and remodeling it.

That poor fool is probably deliriously happy just to be able to watch TV in his house instead of a freezing garage. I bet he’s afraid he’s dreaming it all and will wake up to find that they are still there, obnoxious and lawless as ever.

To be perfectly honest, I’m kind of afraid of that too. DO NOT WAKE ME UP. I want to believe that Marsha’s ten-year reign of terror is over.