Post-Christmas Livin'

Christmas detoxing is an important part of the process that is often overlooked. After gorging ourselves with food and unwrapping gifts like madmen, it's usually a good idea to take it easy for the next few days, slip on the slippers and chill on the couch, surfing the web or doing whatever it is you do best.

I'm up in Connecticut which I have to say is a pretty perfect place to relax. Watching TV and drinking buds I did something out of character: I started and completed a puzzle.

I have never done one before. I'm hooked. I'm about to do another. I felt like an old lady sitting there. An awesome old lady.

In other news I have acquired two of the hottest items in the world: Zhu Zhu Hamsters. I don't want them and I'm giving them away to two very special ladies. I haven't felt so powerful in my life. This is like having two tickle me Elmos or two Furbies and saying "eh....I don't care"

So, I go on record:

Eh, I don't care.

So, as I sit here trying to rebuild what I broke during yesterday's insane festivities I ask you, dear starlets: how do you re-coop after heavy Christmasing?

UPDATE:

I'm so hardcore. I finished another puzzle.

I can't stop partying but I need to slow down. If I keep this up I'll have the worst hangover tomorrow.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

This Christmas has shaped up to be something pretty damn wonderful. For the first time in a long while I don't care about presents or the tree or even the food. 

I came back from Chicago yearning to see as many of my friends as possible and that's what I did, putting in quality chill time with some A grade folks in an A+ town. 

Riding the 6 train felt great. 

Sitting at Carlos' with a beer in hand, Bella the puppy in the other felt even better. 

Point is, it feels great to be home. Chicago has grown on me and the past few months I have been digging deeper and deeper into that city and I'm liking what I find. Still, coming back and seeing what's good with the city I love the most was much needed. 

I might not live as decadently as the Blodgett's but this is the best Christmas I have had in a long while. Not to get sappy or anything, but seeing my pals and my home is the best gift a guy could ask for. 

I haven't seen everyone yet, but trust me: I will. 

Merry Christmas, everyone. 

Il to NY, Baby

Here's the good news: Yesterday I had my last two classes of the semester which means the unofficial blog hiatus can be lifted. Today I fly back to New York and look forward to posting like a regular K-Dog and living like a champion. I can't wait. 

Bad news?

I like flying out of O'Hare airport. It's one of the best I have ever seen and can't say a single bad thing about the joint. Except, from my experience, the minute a single snow flake touches the runways the entire place shuts down, resulting in me twiddling my thumbs for hours.

I don't mind this, I'd prefer safety over travel deadlines any day. Still, it's unfortunate the day I need to fly looks like this:

I might be a while, folks. 

Duped!

Today the company that hosts the Broke Toe Productions site let me know that the domain had fallen victim to a mean, angry hacker. All of the files are still online and no information has been lost but aesthetically it's seen better days. 

Take a look:

It's strange. These baddies didn't remove any files, didn't secretly upload anything in hopes of free storage space and left everything else alone. All they did was delete my hard work. They gained nothing other than happiness from my misery. Because of this, it is safe to conclude that the attack was done out of maliciousness against me or someone in Broke Toe. 

I thought about it all day. Who? Why? I piss a lot of people off, sure, but nothing like this. Someone is very angry and I can't think of who it could be. 

That's when it hit me. The Broke Toe Site gets no traffic. We don't plug it anymore, I don't talk about it with anyone and it isn't linked on any of my regularly used outlets (like this blog). The only pace that links to the site that time forgot is Youtube. 

Who is on Youtube that hates me? Who is on Youtube that let me know at least once every two days that I am a moron and deserve to die? Who floods my inbox with blank emails and hate mail in hopes I will shut down the account? 

Well, I don't want to say anyone specifically. Why? Because I do not have enough information to be 100% certain that the people I think did this are actually the ones who did. 

Otherwise, I would be a conspiracy theorist. Nobody likes them. Right?

Hint. Hint.

Time Warp

My sleep cycle has been so screwed up in the past week or so but today something very strange happened. Two of my buddies came over, we ordered Pizza and watched the Day of the Triffids mini-series from way back when. They left at 9 and I closed my eyes for a minute. 

When I say "I closed my eyes for a minute" I mean it. There on the futon I decided to relax for a few seconds, eyes closed. A minute turned into an hour. Fine. I took a nap.

I got up and went to the kitchen. That's when I saw the clock and nearly fainted. 

6:00 A.M.

Wow. Some hour.

More Dust

Today was my photo critique and things went pretty damn well. Now that I got responses to this series I feel good sharing the rest with you. 

I might re-do this in a studio next semester and really get it right. We'll see.

 

Dusty

Tonight I worked on a project I have been wanting to do for a long while. It's not as successful as I'd like it to be so I hope when I get critiqued on this series people give me some good advice. Long story short: I had to get pretty messy.

The idea came to me a few months ago when I read that a lot of New Yorkers still have little dust particles from 9/11 stuck to the sides of their lungs. It's really no big deal, we have a lot of shit in our lungs, especially those of us who live in urban environments. Still, the idea of carrying pieces of The World Trade Center with us physically has some serious parallels to our emotional luggage. 

Right now it's about 15 photos of individuals doing normal, everyday tasks while completely covered in dust, dried blood and soot. 

I'm going to wait until I get a crituqe on these suckers before sharing them with you. 

Putting that shit on myself was strange. When I first looked in the mirror I froze for a few minutes and felt very odd. It felt disgusting. It made me realize how lucky I was to be safe on that day. It also made me realize how horrible people must have felt after getting home and standing in the shower for a few hours trying to get cement out of their hair while still thinking about what happened. 

Yeesh.

Corn Cob Of Shit

My Zines have been printed and they look beautiful, sleek and sexy. 

I got 50 of the things and they turned out exactly how I wanted. They are pretty fucking funny and I can't wait till' people read them.

Each is numbered because that's what artists do. Some will be sold at Quimby's Bookstore and the rest will be given out to my closest bros and bras. 

Morning Motivation

I don't want to sound like a broken record but I'm going to anyway: I have a lot of work this week.

This country has a rich history of young men valiantly marching directly into the mouths of madness in the hopes of a greater good. During World War II there was D-Day. During the Civil Rights Movement, young men and women defied mob rule and sat non-violently at a "whites only" diner counter. During the American Revolution, Washington crossed the icy Delaware River with courageous elegance. During critique week, I had a big fucking to-do list. 

Today was the day to do it.

I'll break it down for you:

1. Drop off/pick up zines from printer

2. Go to loop, rent camera

3. Buy a few pounds of powdered cement (don't ask...)

4. Prep-order shipment of 50 buttons

5. Finishing touches on a short story

There was no room to slack off on this daunting day. I prepared myself for it last night and went over to my buddies house to ask for some artistic advice.

Long story short, I ended up crashing there. The night before last I slept for 15 hours and that really screwed me up. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't get a single wink of sleep. Staring at my friend's ceiling, twiddling my thumbs, the night slowly inched onward. I knew I needed every minute of sleep I could get but I knew even better I wasn't going to get it. The moment sunlight hit the streets of Chicago, I packed my shit up and left. 6:00A.M.

IT'S SO COLD. I can't stop shivering and my hands are numbing up disturbingly fast. The wind is so strong at one point that I had to stop walking. The ground was slick with ice and putting all my weight on one foot risked me slamming my head onto the concrete. As I took this photo I was literally being pushed backwards.

I was tired. I was fucked. 

I knew I needed a big boost if I was going to get through the day on no sleep. I decided to go to Jewel Osco, stock up on a huge breakfast and promptly go home and cook it. I needed carbs, protein, caffeine and a little bit of sugar to keep myself going for the rest of the day. 

On the way to Jewel, I slipped in the parking lot and landed in a puddle. 

I, filthy, cold and wet, crawled into the supermarket. They had been open for twenty minutes and the place was completely empty. I can't tell you how strange it was strolling around the gigantic market, no elevator music playing, no people walking around pushing carts, just the sounds of my boots squeaking on the floor. 

It was very creepy. 

I got the hell out of there with my grub and ran home to start cooking. It was early and I felt like shit. I needed this bad. 

Standing over the gigantic meal on the stove, something came over me. I wasn't scared about working all day. I knew I would get it done. I knew the breakfast would work. Today was my fucking day. In fact, cooking that meal, I realized something. Today was going to be the best day of my life.

I'm not kidding, folks. I was 100% ready to take on the responsibilities I have as an artist, student and K-Dog with conviction and excitement. Because this should have been my worst day and I was going to rock it, it really was going to be the best day of my life. I couldn't believe it.

I sat down with my power meal and watched an episode of Law and Order: SVU like any other care-free day. When it was over I intended to take on the world. 

Breakfast of the Champion (me):

Three Sausages

A Shitload of Home Fries

Scrambled Eggs with Cheese and a Few Seasonings

One Five Hour Energy Shot

One Cup of Earl Grey

Good to go. 

I ate, I threw on my jacket and I walked out of the house. That's when it hit me. 

I was wearing my slippers. 

O.K, the power-food and energy drink didn't kick in yet. I went inside, put on my shoes and walked out again. 

That's when something else hit me and I threw up in the middle of the fucking street. 

Moral of this long, long story, folks?

NO FOOD, NO ENERGY DRINK, NO MENTAL PREPARATION CAN REPLACE SLEEP!

I'm screwed....

Disturbing Facts

I have posted once in the past five days but ordered Dominos' pizza three times. 

That's disgusting. When work hits you this hard, desperate measures must be taken. 

That is all. I can't wait to be back in web-o-world. Till' then, listen to a radio show. ---->

New Zine

Holy cow am I busy. So busy that this blog seems to have gone on a unofficial hiatus. I have a lot of shit to do for a lot of classes but in two weeks I'll be free as a bird flying around the island of Manhattan. 

Tonight I'm working on a new Zine. The idea behind this one is to, essentially, write my four most horrifyingly embarrassing stories and make them public. It's pretty fucking funny and I think it's going to work out pretty well. I'll share the cover with you folks:

The title makes sense once you read it, I promise. Tomorrow I drop her off to get printed and I should be sitting on 50 copies in two days. I'll sell some at Quimby's for let's say, seventy five cents. The rest go to folks like you (if you want em').

Is Blogger Trying To Tell Me Something?

I was leaving a comment on brother blogger Ezra's site and the word verification shocked me a little bit.

Yeesh.