Developments in Ticklefights

Greetings from beyond the grave. The above is a picture drawn by my filthy-minded cartoon-drawing friend Nick Dimoulis, based on my musical Fat Chance.

Nick Dimoulis and I shared a math class, along with Spiros Leukopoulos and George Odicho. We spent most of the time playing movie/TV Pictionary, but we noticed that Nick could draw exceptionally gross, body-related things.

One day, he looked back at me with a notebook propped up on his desk, urging me to look at it. It was a graphic drawing of a woman giving birth to PeeWee Herman. I had to supress my laugh, clog my tears, and cross my legs.

Fat Chance, the plotline I detailed in the very first post, is finally being fully realized through collaboration with my friend Tim McPherrin. Few things could make me happier than this! Once the weather gets Springish and the script is absolutely number-one-super-ready, the filming will begin. The cast is mainly made up of friends. Actually, entirely of friends. Justin Nicholson plays three people, all with antiquated jobs:

1. Town Cryer,
2. Milkman,
3. Cholera-Cure Delivery Boy.

I can hear you not laughing right now. It's cool, I think it's hilarious.

Other Journies in Rock and Roll

Bear Hair beard, growing thick from the eyes, the roof of my mouth and ears, and I feel like I've had it for this-many-dog-years; lately I've been 2, tomorrow I'll feel 82, feeling like my head bluetoothed youth. Skin thickens and blood cells reach Heinz heights, watching my sketch-artist-composite pegged onto a LiteBrite; God bless my shiny architect. Zoom out to the marionettes. Number 2 will hold my Village hostage and the role switches every single time I enter and exit a room, and I won't control me any time soon.

The salt of my tears once did wonders for my acne, but it just soaks into the spiny facial ivy when I start ignoring hygiene, I've developed junglemusk; childish monster drawing with long hair and thick tusks. TUSK from the back, TUSK from the cheek, TUSK from the forehead, 3 more wherever nature wanted. Dear Grace: I'm feeling like the Lady in the Fireplace, caught like the Doctor in the cytoplasm of Time/Space. And like him, I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and you never came. I waited and you never came. I waited and you never came. I waited and you never came. I waited and you never came.

Thinks he's got her figured out.
I'm dying if he does,
because there's no service and some network cable's unplugged.
I'm waiting on my twin bed,
my feet can touch the floor,
bear hair beard drapes on my chest,
and I'm crawling on all fours;
I waited and you never came.

Some things are best left not discussed


I promise it gets more hopeful than that. This is the first track from Bear Hair, a rap called "The Beginnings of a Beard." I'm getting gradually less-bad at recording, and doing it from home gives me the special privelage of eating crab rangoon while I lay down fresh beatz.

My friends Kayla Koch and Joanne Kim are collaborating on the cover art because they are very, very sweet/talented people. However, I have my own ideas:



Alright, that's enough for one post. I've gotta shower and get ready for work. So, now that my computer-availability-time isn't sporadic and weird, I'm actually gonna be using this more often. I have to please the TENS and TENS of readers.