Random Thoughts

Humans learn experientially.  There are moments of enlightenment, eureka where information takes the role of experience.  When we learn informationally, we receive a tool.  When we learn experientially, we become the tool.

Dimension is about distinction.  Point X is a different from Point Y because it is several feet away.  We move in time and space, but also understanding.  Understanding is a different dimension because it differentiates realities that may overlap in the first four dimensions.

Life is a process of remembering what we have forgotten.

Drey’s Whack Graffix

In the spirit of Songs to Wear Pants to and to expand my artistic horizons, I’d like to present a little something I call Drey’s Whack Graffix. The concept is this: you send me a request for some kind of graphic along with the medium/style or whatever other specifications you think of, and I will do my best to create that image. These graphics will appear in my gallery on deviantART.

While the graphic may be useful, it can’t be something I would ordinarily get paid for. For instance, I will not make a logo and/or business card for your company, but I WILL make a logo for a fictional interstellar warp drive manufacturer.

The request should be small in scope, like a single image, not “a graphic novel series about a family of magic turtles.”

I’m also interested in doing more involved collaborations of any kind with other artists, musicians, writers and creative types.

So there you go.

deviantART

I have an art and writing gallery over at deviantART with all my latest stuff!

Remember when…

…I first met you and I tried to be charming by complementing you on your business attire

…we discovered we had both lived in Delmar at the same time and kept trying to figure out if we had ever crossed paths before

…I was so excited to discover you liked Buffy the Vampire Slayer and that Thor was your favorite comic book hero

…you taught me it was okay to send food back at restaurants

…Luara told me that you liked me and I should ask you out, but I was too scared because I was still crazy

…I would leave happy hour if you left because I didn’t see any point in staying if you weren’t going to be there

…I was desperately lonely and the only thing I looked forward to was seeing you at happy hour

…I first met Eva at Stella Blue and I was just so happy to see her

…I decided that, amongst all the new people I was meeting, you would be the only person I confided in

…we sat in the parking lot because my car had overheated and I told you the only reason I came to happy hour was to see you

…I started to freak out at the theater when we were waiting to see Spider-man 2 and I couldn’t wait until you got there because you were the only person who could keep me grounded

…it was easier to end my friendship with Jess knowing I had a true friend who believed in me and encouraged me

…you could always make me smile

…I would linger in front of your refrigerator, staring at the photo of you in the blue dress because I thought you looked so beautiful

…we fixed your ceiling fan and it turned out to be a bigger task than anticipated

…I almost moved to a different apartment because you made it sound like such a good idea

…I helped you plot against Mike by making those cat postcards

…I cut down on smoking because I knew you didn’t like it and I eventually quit

…I stopped going to the gym because I didn’t want to be there without you

…I would make you CDs and DVDs of anything you seemed even mildly interested in to show you that I liked you

…I held your hand while you got a tattoo

…I obtained the complete Radiohead discography so I could have something for you to listen to when you came over

…I took you to see Napoleon Dynamite, but it was sold out and we ended up having a wonderful time anyway

…we had a candlelit dinner complete with key lime pie

…Bob asked me if you made the pain in my chest go away and I said “yes”

…you talked me out of buying you a gym membership so I could buy food instead

…we were stuck inside my car during the downpour at 3-sided Whole and we were wearing those crazy silver costumes covered in mud and I just laughed and laughed because I felt so happy to be with you

…I would sing little doggie songs to Eva when you were in the shower or out of earshot

…I let you talk me into experimenting with hair products

…you taught me about jamokes and snapperheads

…I would find out interesting stuff for you on the internet

…we spent the day wandering around downtown after eating at the Gold Street Cafe

…we walked to the park by your house and everything was bright and wonderful and we played on the playground

…we made refrigerator poetry

…we were at Hastings and I stole an order form from the Metalsmith magazine so I could secretly order a subscription for you, hoping it would inspire you

…we went to Ozzfest and had seats in the seventh row and I headbanged to groups I never heard before and we were stuck in the parking lot forever and our ears rang for days afterwards

…I sang “I wish I were a little bar of soap”

…we lay out on the hood of my car watching falling stars

…even though I had grown up with people telling me I was horrible, evil and worthless, when I was with you, for a short while, I believed that I was not

…I made a list of happy memories because I already missed you and was so sorry for how I made you feel and I hoped it would help you still want to be friends with me

I Want the Poetry Back

I was happier with the madness.
I watched the bridge burn from the highest window of my forehead and pulled the shade on my third eye.
Did a freefall backslide into the anesthetic blanket of an over the counter prefab life.
Now I’m shotgunning smoke from the lips of poets. Blowing rings around the moon. Making Saturn from a hubcap, until the orderlies graft the remote control to my palm.
Now my heart is plowed by Hallmark card commercials in the methadone clinic of Must See TV.
I begin to reminisce about spending days with my mouth stopped shut by a wasp nest until I burned it out with cigarettes.
Shaking the Magic 8 Ball and having it tell me “Fuck No!” one day and “Hell Yes!” the next.
I was happier when I took the pain from a hip flask
Spilling rainbow oil slick snailbelly juice on my forehead
Like an anointing
Like a warning
My day planner choked with blood and shit and the cryptic symbols from the Babylonian curse she tattooed around my heart.
Out the window I see a new bridge, a crystal cat’s cradle of voices inter-cut with heartbeats.
So I overpower the warden and finally break free
It’s easy to do because the warden is me
I want it all back
The spinning carousel face
Russian roulette with a scorpion jukebox
Tequila tango of tongues in the back alley of my mind
Always a step away from the mad shit
The breakthrough an ever falling star
Happiness a train I keep missing in a dream
Every day dying in a Maserati car wreck of ecstasy
But I want it, even if it eats my heart,
I want it.
I want the poetry back.

Antarctica

And she thinks to herself about
How much his sexual techniques are like the settings on her Black & Decker Blender:
Distinguished only by changes in pitch and intensity.
Yet they each had their own little name:
Grind, Frappe, Obliviate.
So too the bestiary of contortions in the copy of the Kama Sutra
She saw strategically placed on the nightstand,
Pages earmarked like a threat.
She feels her heat steal away from her body,
Condensing on the roof of his laboring chest.
“I’m in an oven,” she thinks. “An oven that feeds only twice a week.
I’m the loaf of bread.”
He had mixed her up, kneaded her, pounded her for good measure
And then packed her in a box.
She sees the coastline of Antarctica in the cracks of his bedroom ceiling.
She imagines Lilith’s outraged scream falling across the oceans of ancient earth,
Encasing it in a womb of ice that lingers at the poles even today.
Tomorrow she plans to call some travel agents and sift them.
The one who gets her the best rate on a one way to Antarctica
Will become her new shaman,
Her Pathfinder across a log jam of spinning chakras.
He rolls her onto her side so he can try out page 34.
The crease in the pillow is a mountainside in Antarctica.
A mountain of clothing, she decides,
Remembering the range of laundry waiting by the washer at home.
One pile for the business girl, one pile for the Sunday girl,
One pile for the party girl, one pile for the artist girl…
In Antarctica, she wouldn’t need as many clothes,
Just enough to keep her self warm.
In Antarctica she would rebuild the temple of herself
Seal it with a gate that opened only for her
With a sign out front to warn visitors: “No thank you. I already have everything.”
Far away, she hears a blender work its way up the scale
Until the pressure blows off the lid.
“When I go to Antarctica,” she thinks,
“I’ll need to bring an ice pick.”

Updates

Yeah, it’s been a while since I updated…

I’ve got some new items up in the gallery on Rogue Factor, so check it out!

The Boys That Lived

It has been suggested that I introduce my system to everyone. I think this will be a helpful and informative exercise for my benefit as well.

Here follows an account of the Boys That Lived. Continue reading →

Rogue Factor!

The new Rogue Factor site is online now!

Novella

I got schooled by Amanda last night and discovered I’m still about 40,000 words short of a novel. I guess my info was outdated. So I guess I just have a novella that’s almost 30,000 words long. Sigh.