The World Blazer

They say the world is going to end…

They've been saying it for thousands of years and yet, this beautiful blue marble continues to spin. They've said it so many times, people don’t believe it anymore. A few still linger in fear, but most of us don't even care. There's also Keegan...

Keegan wants the world to end. He's been a painter all his life and he still isn't famous. He knows that his works will be forgotten as soon as he's dead. This upsets him greatly. He thinks it's unfair that some shine in glorious immortality while he slips into oblivion. He wants the world to end so there'll be no one to remember the great works and no one to forget his. Keegan wants the world to end in a blaze.

My humble opinion on the matter: Fuck you, Keegan! We can't all be famous, but we can enjoy what we got. Man up and grow a pair. 

The Brother

Back when leather jackets were cool and punk rockers weren't all pussies, Tommy and I used to drink the cheapest beer we could find, we'd talk about the cute girls we wanted to bang, and sometimes, in the blurry streets of our youth, we would sing our hearts out. Horrible songs... we sang them loud and proud!

Getting drunk with a friend... we've all done it. I know this is a useless boring post, but it's as true as any other damn piece I've ever written. We lose many friends along the way, but of all the people I fucked over or who did the same to me, Tommy is the one I miss the most. He was my brother.

I think today's his birthday...

The Snowmen Murderer

"Look... The first snows of the year are falling. As usual, tomorrow morning, silly girls and pansy boys will run outside and make their stupidly generic little snowmen. It's customary. It's tradition. It's seven sades of boring! Something must be done!"
And with that, Erik stormed out into the darkness of the night. The next evening he got a can of blood red paint, an axe, and like the psychotic Ghost of Christmas Whenever, he brought mayhem to the neighborhood, 'murdering' all the snowmen he could find. The neighbors were not pleased. When I asked the mad bastard why he did it, Erik answered:

"Destruction can be a form of creation, I just wanted to bring something new to the holiday season!"  

The Holiday (interlude #8)

Dear Santa,
these are some of the things I want this holiday:

- ak47
- pizza + beer
- comics
- pencils + pens + paper
- a great Christmas for all my friends
- world peace (if you have time)

Now, drop the pudding and get to work you fat lazy bastard.
Your kintsugi friend,
Gabriel.

The Weirdos

 "You've always gotten along with the weirdos."

The condescending tone with which this was said to me about a year ago was enough to make me sick to my stomach. 'The weirdos'… In high school, after a few brushes with popularity, I quickly realized that I felt more comfortable with the less popular, those outcasts who defied stereotypes, the weirdos... They had sweeter dreams, stronger convictions, an easier sense of humor, and nobler notions of friendship. 

So, yes, I have 'always gotten along with the weirdos'. Society doesn't advance based on brain dead clones and sheep. Just like in nature, society develops based on diversity, it evolves on the weird. If you've never felt the secret wisdom of being a weirdo, then what a horribly boring life you must lead.

The Blurry Hyperrealist

I once met a hyperrealist painter called Dennis...
A hyperrealist paints stuff in such detail that his or her paintings look like photographs. For the last 15 years, Dennis has been working on a side project where he paints in the utmost detail the view from his window. The difference from his other work is that Dennis factors in the influence of time, driving him to add, almost daily, every little change.
Over the years, family homes have turned into a single apartment building, a green horizon of trees has been cut down, the neighbor's cars have turned into eco-friendly plastic toys, the publicity monster has become more aggressive, wild life has practically gone extinct, kids have traded baseball for video-games...
...it's an exhausting, never ending task. With it, Dennis has learned that time changes everything. For better or worse, convictions, beliefs, dreams, and even the perception of what is real can all become nothing more than a messy blur of paint on a canvass. No matter how detailed your knowledge of the world is.

The Loving Blob

While watching the 1955 movie, The Blob, a buddy of mine told me about his Aunt Gertie: 

“She was one of those big ladies who expressed her love by smothering us to death with hugs and kisses. Clichéd, I know, but that was my Aunt Gertie. She hardly ever left the house and kept all her favorite things really close to her. I gave her a wind chime once for her birthday, but I guess she didn't really like it because the very next day she took it down. My sister and I were a different story, she really loved us. After feeding us pie until our bellies were about to burst, she would squeeze us with such joy that I thought she was going to eat us next. I’m pretty sure the reason why my sister is so retarded is because our aunt hugged her once too often. Lack of oxygen to the brain will do that to you… Even though going to my aunt's house was always a worrying thought when I was a kid, I actually miss the old girl.”

Weird how a horrible mass of alien goo would remind my friend of a loving family member and for the record, his sister is not mentally challenged. It might be sappy of me, but I miss those days when everyone had a crazy aunt who just wanted to squeeze you in her arms and cover your cheeks with drooling kisses. Hard love made the world a nicer place. 

The Headless Horseman

Tonight's Invizible Kid is known as The Headless Horseman…

As some might already know, I usually talk about people I've actually met and as odd as it may seem, this is no so different. I was born in Sleepy Hollow, New York and when I was in the third grade our teacher took us to visit the local cemetery for Halloween. There, I remember seeing the unmarked grave of The Legendary Headless Horseman. So, I met the guy… or rather, I met his remains.

For those who haven't read the Irvine Washington short tale or seen the movie with Johnny Depp, I’ll sum up the legend: There was this girl whose boyfriend went to war and got his head blown off by a canon ball. Years later, there was this other dude hitting on her. One evening, when the dude was going home, he was frightened by a headless horseman that chased him out of town. The legend also says that on the night of Halloween, the tortured soul of this headless horseman haunts the town streets looking for his lost head. The reason why his grave is unmarked lies in the fact that it's tombstone always gets stolen. Some people believe that if you place his tombstone on your lawn, the Horseman won’t behead you…
Happy Halloween and hold on to your head!

The Human Centipede

I have met the Human Centipede. Unlike the movie, the human elements are not connected by a macabre surgical procedure. Instead, they are connected by the repulsive act of ass-licking. They are a slimy retched bunch who'll stop at nothing to obtain their selfish petty goals and they all work in the same lab. From top to bottom: Izabella. Juan. Lillian. Richard. Sandra. Sophie. Mario. Time will certainly make this Human Centipede even longer...
I feel sick just thinking about it. 

The Rotting Athlete

Terry is a runner. I’m not sure in what category he runs in and I have no idea how many competitions he has won, but I do know that he complains about how his victories decrease in number, every single year. The other day, over coffee, he told me that he’s plagued by a terrible recurring dream. In it, he’s sleeping with the suit he wore on prom night and around him are dozens of blue poppies. In his dream time goes by and while the blue poppies maintain their unchangeable healthy look, Terry quickly rots into dust and bones. He feels like the blue poppies are mocking him. Terry knows his running days are almost over and yet the tracks that gave him so much joy will always be there. He also thinks that the same may be said about Man and Nature. "Entropy is a bitch and it always hurts the ones that'll feel it the most."