Tryst

Jazz in my ear and hand on my
    cock
Trumpet Saxophone Trombone
    Piano Drums Wail! Brother
    Wail!
Crescendo and Climax!
She never told me her name

Uh Oh

You ever do something, and then realize you'll probably regret doing it?

I may have just done that.

Hopefully I'm wrong.

Rest

I sleep my face inches
    away from the smoked
    stained walls of my
    room
On sheets still dirty for
    I cannot produce
    seventy-five cents
My tiny bedroom in
    apartment located here
    in Mecca
It should be well lit and
    celebrated but bulb is
    burnt and no confetti
    falls
My room my sanctuary
    my brothel my home
It is no more than a
    closet filed with things
I possess one picture that
    is framed in gold and
    hangs opposite my
    bed
It is pencil art of crane on
    one leg

It is an ugly picture

An ugly picture for an
    ugly room for ugly
    man
Time is not wasted here
    on cosmetics
Time is not wasted here
    for time is not real
    here
Like the crane is not real
    nor frame nor apartment
    not sheets nor bed nor
    room

I sleep my face inches

    away from the smoked

    stained walls of my

    room

-H. Charles Johnson

Quote

"The tools I need for my trade are paper, tobacco, food, and a little whiskey."

   -William Faulkner

Amen

EGO

I am connected to those before me
Connected to Kerouac by ream of unrolled paper
Connected to Hemingway by alcohol and cats with six toes
Connected to Poe by hysteria and night
Connected to Blake, to Thompson, to Ginsberg, to Frost, to Dylan, to Chaucer, to God, to you, to me

We are all connected by the mighty cosmos
We are all connected by lies

But I am no prophet no seer of truths
I am no soothsayer nor angel
I am who I am

A country boy hipster with his head in the ground and feet on the clouds
A wanderer and studier of life and death
A perpetual student ever learning but never knowing
A man, a child, a boy playing with his toys
I know no more than I did before
Which was none

I am son of a pastor and smoker of leaf
Alcoholic, asshole, mongerer, pothead, lover, Jesus
I am son of a teacher and speaker of words
Hippie, redneck, bitch, yeti, loser, Death
Many titles I own in the supermarket of thought
None of which are true none of which are false
I am who I am my life my own

I drink and smoke and swear and fuck and yell and live and love
My middle finger presented proudly to the world like an erect cock to eager asshole

I will not bow down
I will not give in
I will not obey
I will not listen

I will live my life
I will chase happiness
I will act wildly
I will curse the gods of old

I will and will not

So label what I do and how I act however you want
I will label it life and live it

Inspiration

*disclaimer: talking about smoking tobacco from a hookah, that is all*

Inspiration can come from many different places. For me something that can give me the most (visual) inspiration is smoke. The way smoke floats and dances in the air is ever changing and creating new images all while dying. It makes me realize how no matter what situation I am in, I should strive to be creating. Even if I am fading away. Always strife to create. Always evolve. It's like man made clouds. People see clouds and find many different images as the winds change. Smoke is the same way. As I blow smoke rings and watch as they float into one another and mold into something new. It's such a great way to see how things change and force you recognize the natural evolution of an idea. Just seeing the transformations in the smoke keeps me inspired and filled with ideas. What is your inspiration?

*again, hookah, tobacco, nothing more*

Always evolving, never settling.
Hemmity

Onomatopoeia

Welcome! I hope you are enjoying yourself.

Here's a question for you, have you ever actually tried to spell out sounds? We've all seen the classic "BAM!" and "POW!" but have you ever really given it thought? I mean is that "CRASH!" really what we hear when plate falls to the ground? It's a lot harder to do than you think. Can you actually spell the sound you hear when some one runs upstairs? Or what is the sound you hear when you close a door?  It's tough stuff. I've tried. And failed. Many times. I highly respect Stan Lee for his skills in this area. I personally think that the sound Wolverine's claws make when they come out, "SNIKT" is spot on. I really don't think there are any better. As I have been working on a few graphic narratives now, I have come to truly understand the difficulty of this. That is why I think we have seen a general disappearance of onomatopoeia in graphic narratives. Apart from the fact that these are so hard to do, I think it is good we have evolved passed this. I feel that when people see these sound descriptions, they instantly go back to the campy Batman TV show of old. They can't look passed them and see the quality behind the writing. Even though we have moved on, I still wish I was better at writing onomatopoeias. I'll keep practicing. You do the same.

Onwards and Upwards,
Hemmity