ARRIVED

when they
finally leave
you alone
after they
won't leave
you alone

LIKE THAT

I don't know
it just felt
like losing
a sneeze
or something
only you've
lost everything

THE RIM

I know I don't

have to tell you

but please be

careful, man

this is exactly

where it happens

they won't even be

able to tell if you

fell in or out

NO, NO

I just didn't realize 
you were still thinking 
what it is is what it is, 
which is fine, you know,
if that's where you need
to be, if that makes you
feel more comfortable

I ONCE

sat in

the sun

pushing

peas in 

the mud

TWO MEN TALKING 5/29/13

"Maybe we don't really need art anymore? Or at least not the way we think of it. I mean, you can Youtube anything now. I don't know, it's like there's nothing mysterious to unlock anymore. Anyone can see anything they want."

"Exactly, but it's more than that. It's not just what you're able to see. To me, it's more that you can juxtapose it so easily. It used to be that you would have to really go somewhere to gain access to something. You had to put some real effort into it. There was a price. Now I can watch a beheading while I'm standing in line at Rite Aid, or I like to flip back and forth from Porn to car crashes and autopsies and shit... Hey, did you see that Chinese baby they cut out of that sewage pipe?"

"Oh God, dude, that was fucking horrible! I mean, that's like the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"I know, man, I can't handle anything with children. I mean, if there's a God, fuck him!... Hey, so are you still seeing that chick with the ass?"

"Not as much. You know, I'm just trying to be careful. I can't afford any problems right now. We still haven't even filed for divorce yet. Plus, she lives way out in Brooklyn. But yeah, man, that ass is no fuckin' joke."

"Jesus!"

"(haha) Why does it make you angry?"

"I don't know (haha), it just does."

"That's funny, man. It's like my brother. Whenever he saw a good looking chick, he'd get all pissed off and make this face."

"Yeah, it's like fuck you, I was doin' just fine until I saw that shit!"

 "(haha) You know, it's funny how you can look back and see all the signs. I'm not talking Seinfeld shit, I mean, anyone's gonna get on your nerves..."

"Dude, have you ever heard Sally laugh?"

"Yeah (haha)."

"Like, I mean, I seriously had to consider that."

"Sally's fucking awesome."

"Yeah, I know."

"But, you know, when Kim and I first got together, every couple of days it was like all of sudden this heavy, heavy energy would swoop down on us. It was like this serious dark shit. It was like the walls would start breathing. And we would turn into these total fucking strangers to each other. It would always happen in the morning at one of our apartments. We wouldn't know what to do. We'd just stare at each other. 'Do you feel that?' I'd ask her, and she'd say, 'Yeah, what do we do?' And so what do you do, ya know? We'd go have sex. 'Let's fuck it away,' we'd say."

"Huh, yeah."

"Anyway, you know, back to art, I get ya. Even when I see something good anymore, I just think, yeah, that's pretty good, but so what, lot's of things are good. It's just another asshole making art. I mean, who gives a fuck anymore? Everyone's great at everything. Everyone knows everything."

"I know. But then someone like Bruce Nauman. Have you seen the new shit at Dia?"

"Oh, fuck, man, he's amazing! He's probably my favorite living artist. But then even that..."

BUST

I 
even
licked 
off
what
was
under
the
lid

WATCH OUT!

I'd kick
your ass
if I could
clench
my fist!

OH,

I'd 
end 
up  
just 
watching 
the 
squirrels 
at 
the 
zoo

PRELIMINARY

just so
we're clear, 
we all
know
what
happens
happens
before it
happens,
right?

IT HELPS

when 

I think of it 

as a line chart 

so I

 can see 

just where 

at times 

my 

big swooping 

line gets 

scribbled 

out

 

IGNORING THE MANTRA

okay
that's it
I'm done!

DON'T WORRY

by the
time you
find me
I'll be
lost again

I DON'T KNOW

I like it 

when I

forget I

put the

kettle on

the way

the sound

creeps up

on you 

and you 

look up 

and for 

a moment 

you have

no idea

what the

hell it is

CONFESSION

hold on,
wait, was
I standing
or sitting?
I can't re-
member

WAIT

one thing
I'd still like
to know is
when and
what was it
that finally
made you
believe me
and how it
felt having
that painted
in your mind

OURSELVES

without
end or
distinction
we pull
to find

HEY, MAN

we've all
lit matches
for no other
reason than
to just blow
them out

FORCE

remember,
sometimes
we must
stiffen in
order to
break
enough
to bend

LOST

the sound
of the fridge
as you look
once again
at the wall

STROLL

he'd never
considered
why it was
seeing worms
made him so
happy, but the
trees, he knew
he had always
known to think
about the trees

SOMETHING

take a
video
of the
next
bug
you
see
or
any
type
of
some-
thing
that
isn't
quite

ENOUGH

or just
have a
friend
stand
blind-
folded
in the
yard
and
throw
balls
at'm
and
say
"catch"

BECOME

where 

even a 

straight

line is 

a circle

NOVICE

you'd
best
kneel 
at the 
edge
or lay 
upon
your
stomach
if you
wanna
look
down

GO!

light
seek
dark!

NOT BAD

you should
see it from
here, you
still pushing
that thing
and those
times when
it rolled so
far away

STRANGE ENVY

homeless
man pushing
a mail cart
I want a
mail cart!

LIMBER

for at 
times
there 
was 
surely 
laughter
even in
Dachau

OSTRICH

yeah,
well
you're
offensive
to the
offense

CARTOON 5/20

Strange looking man (gangly, mad scientist looking, wild grey hair, crooked glasses with taped frames) coaching his feeble little boy during baseball practice. The man is bent over, one hand on top of the boy's cap, the other supporting himself upon his knee. All the other kids and two other men are looking on, laughing.

MAN: "Remember, Timmy, the ultimate confidence is to be confident in one's lack of confidence."

YOU WANNA

see everything
see everything

CUTE


that 

moment

you 

first

realized

they

are 

all

trying 

to 

convince

themselves

WAY TO WHAT?

cherished
moments
unravelling
ridiculous
notions of
immunity
give way
to what?

CORNER

our choices leave
us with no choice
as that day, friend
that moment you
told me what you
said she said was
not what she said

DITCH

it wasn't just
an irrigation
ditch no less
than the only
place I found
inside myself
worth having

FLOWERS

                I
          hope
            you
          know
                I
       always
             try
              to
          think
              of
            you
              as
            you
          were
        before
            you
      weren't

VISITOR

our
cat
now
dead
that
book-
shelf
your
new
pots
and
pans 
hung
from
hooks
from
the
ceiling

TIME, NO LONGER

does it simply
slip through, it
is like all things
now like nothing
has gone before

HERE NOW

the sound where
sounds had been
as more thoughts
become forgotten  

OPTIMISTIC

Hey, I'm optimistic about a lot of things. I just feel optimism must always be tempered with equal amounts negativity. For every cute puppy you see, another one has just been tossed into the gas chamber. Life is a constant manipulation and we all know there is a price for everything. The yachts do not exist without war and famine. It's all intertwined, interwoven as they say. Perhaps the Hollywood Squares were responsible for the genocide in Rwanda? Maybe Justin Bieber will become the next Hitler? Who knows what finally sets the trap? The state of transcendence is to be at once enveloped by the beauty while at the same time being aware of the trick. There is nothing in life which we should ever take personally. The salmon run through the shallows as well as the deep. A whale moans halfway across the earth while you contemplate your sex life. Are you almost out of diapers? Did you forget to buy half and half? You think the meat in the fridge still good? See, you should've just gone ahead and cooked it the other day. The bills arrive like scavengers upon the carcass. What the hell happened to our world? Your cell phone bill may as well be $10,000 at this point. What the hell's the difference really? Why is Ted Nugent's face in my brain? Why is Matt Hutchins's soup so good? When I was about 8 or 9 years old, I was riding in the hatchback of my father's orange 280Z. We were driving home from a fish fry somewhere and my parents were up in the front talking about the strangeness of it all. Some new friends had invited us but they had failed to mention that it had to do with some church. I had brought some Matchbox cars with me and I was driving them around on the rough carpet back there. For some reason, I looked up just in time to see two monstrous birds swoop down from a telephone pole. I mean, they were fucking enormous! I'm serious, they were like 3 or 4 times bigger than turkey vultures! "Mom! Dad!" I yelled. They kept talking and did not answer. The birds landed beside some sort of roadkill behind us. I'm not kidding, they were the size of large dogs! "MOM! DAD!' I yelled again. "What?" my dad said, turning his head. But by then we had driven too far and the birds were gone.

REFRESHING

I just want to be able to film myself on some specialized camera that can be replayed in slow motion while I sit out in my yard on one of our big orange chairs, sipping beer all summer long with my mouth hung open as much as possible in an attempt to capture something, maybe a big dragonfly or just a large moth as it flies into my mouth and the ridiculousness of my reaction. I mean, come on, would that not be something spectacularly refreshing?

NO, NO, MAN, THANKS

"I gotta tell ya, it just feels like a cry for help. It comes across as, I don't know, inappropriate or misdirected. It's like you're as frustrated with your own writing as you are with the world. To me, that's mostly what comes across. You're really funny sometimes, but all these outbursts and then this sort of whimpering... And you're always repeating all this stuff about your mother. I gotta be honest, it's a little embarrassing. Ya know, I just wish you could channel it somehow into something useful. You HAVE tell stories. There's no getting around it. I mean if you want people to read your work. Hey, whatever happened to that graphic novel you worked on?"

"I don't know, who knows?"

"Hmmm. Anyway, sorry to be so brutal, man, but that's my two cents. You know, you asked."

"No, no, man, thanks."

CARTOONS EVEN I WOULDN'T DRAW EVEN IF I COULD DRAW THEM by Philip Bram:

Two men in white hazmat suits are combing the aftermath of a suicide bombing on a street (scattered body parts, pools of dried blood, a charred, twisted frame of a car behind them). They are both investigating about a 6 inch long piece of something or other at their feet. One of the men is looking down at it while the other is now looking up towards us and our viewpoint which allows us to see a portion of their very serious looking boss, standing, watching on with an Ipad in his hands.

MAN IN HAZMAT SUIT LOOKING UP: "Hey, remember the scene in Caddyshack where Bill Murray eats the candy bar?"

THE CARDINAL

was their
grandfather
they kept 
pointing
saying
look so
no one
forgot

IT

"This IT you keep referring to. What exactly do you mean by IT?"

"I don't know. I don't really know how to explain it."

"Is it fear or anxiety, or is it more of a sadness?"

"It's everything, all of that. It's like this thing that comes and gets me. I can see now I've been running from it my entire life. That's what the whole thing's been about. I would get in shape and start modeling and I would travel around, but it would always come and find me. No one knew. You know, when you're on the cover of magazines and shit, it looks like you're doin' fine. It would affect my smile. It's like I had this smiling disease. I couldn't smile right. And I would get all weird on shoots and I would end up loosing clients. Or I would go to castings and I would look around at the other models and I just couldn't do it, ya know. I would just go get a beer or something. I remember once I was behind in rent and I booked this big job down in Miami for like ten thousand dollars or something, and I just, you know, I just couldn't get on the plane. I was with my ex-wife back then and I had her call the agency for me."

"What'd she say?"

"It was pretty funny really. She told them my cheese slid off my cracker. Haha."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah, that was it. That was the last job I had for like 5 or 6 years. That's how it went. I would stop modeling and I would hunker down and I would get some sort of job and I would start writing and then it would just get worse and worse and everything would fall apart. So then I would panic and I would get in shape and start modeling again and it just, you know, it just went on and on for years and years. But it got worse every time. The stakes just got higher and higher. And that's the thing, ya know. Right now I could get back in shape and start making pretty good money again but it doesn't get me anywhere. I've done all that. I'm just so tired. I'm tired of running from it. I'm absolutely exhausted. And I just, ya know, I just wanna write. I just... I need to be able to write!"

"But you've gotta understand that what you've just told me is an awful lot. You've got a new baby, two kids. You've got all these jobs and the writing and this IT you keep referring to. You're definitely exhausted. I can see that. Anyone would be. But I really need you to try to explain the IT okay? I need you to tell me how it makes you feel?"

"It feels like... Well, it's like this looming energy. It almost has a personality. It feels like at any moment anything can happen. Anyone can turn on you. I feel like I could say one word to anyone, ya know, friends or family, and it's like I feel like they could turn around and murder me. My imagination just goes haywire. And my nerves are just totally shot. When someone talks to me it's like I'm getting stabbed by their words."

"Yeah."

"And when I stand next to people I feel like I'm just going to explode or something. Or I just want to start confessing EVERYTHING to them. Mostly though, it's like I'm just completely overwhelmed with these envisionments. Is that a word, envisionment?"

"I don't think so, but I understand."

"Anyway, ya know, it's part of the reason I watch all the stuff I watch online, the autopsies and the beheadings and stuff. I don't know, I just gotta see it. I need to see everything. But it's this tension that wears me out. The first time I remember feeling it was when my mother would come home from the hospital and we'd have dinner ya know, and everyone would just sit around the table like nothing had happened. It just drove me fucking nuts. And you know, like we'll have dinner with friends and I just, I don't know, I just can't take it. I can't understand how people can talk about what they talk about."

"The small talk?"

"Yeah, it just drives me insane. I can't stand it. And so then I start getting all inappropriate. I just want to de-pants people or take off all my clothes and start running."

"A lot of people feel that way. Well, maybe not to the point of wanting to de-pants people. But the small talk. How's the weather? It doesn't make them any less. It doesn't make them stupid. There was a study where... well, it turns out that it's a very necessary thing for most people."

"Yeah, I know. I get that. But it's more than that. It's funny, ya know, even interesting conversations aren't interesting to me anymore. I only like conversations when I can eavesdrop on them. It doesn't matter how stupid they are. Actually, the dumber the better. It's the most exciting thing in the world to me. But if I'm in the equation, it just totally ruins it. It's no longer authentic, ya know. It's like I need to not exist. I'm sort of like that with a lot of things. Bodies, you know. I just want to inspect people's bodies. I don't mean in a sexual way. Like old men. Like their ears and stuff, ya know. Anyway... I don't want to get inappropriate but..."

"Hey, listen, I used to work at a VA hospital. I've heard it all."

"Okay, well... Hmmm. I forgot what I was going to say."

"That's okay."

"Oh, here's something, I just really, ya know, I'm not gay in any way but I'm like preoccupied with other men's penises. I wanna see them. I don't know, I feel like if I'm gonna have an honest conversation with another man then we should see each other's penises."

"Hmmm. I don't think that's abnormal."

"No?"

"No. Well, listen, Phil, that's our time."

"Really? That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. Make sure you make an appointment with Sue on your way out. You take care of yourself. I'll see you next week."

"Thanks. You too."

ELEPHANT

"Did you ever read the one, Elephant?"

"Is that the one where the guy loans his brother money?"

"Yeah, yeah. I love that story. It's just fucking devastating. Man, he's a fucking genius."

"Yeah he is. I always thought it must be him who's the brother who borrows the money, ya know? When the IRS has a lien on his tax return. That's just gotta be him, like right out of his life."

"Yeah, I never thought of that. Maybe?"

"But then both of them, the man AND the brother. I bet they're both him because he'd been on both sides in his life. He's just able to show you the brutality of every day modern life. I don't know, ya know. I don't see how more people aren't just fucking losing it. Everything's just so fucking fucked up, man. Like how do people just keep going on like everything's normal, like nothing's changed? I can't understand it. I can't understand anything anymore."

"You're right, everything's about as fucked up as can be. You just gotta do the best you can. That's all you can do. Everyone's gotta pay their bills and take care of their family. You can't make sense of any of it."

"Man, did I ever tell you about this guy, Lenny, who I lived with at that flight house in Queens?"

"I don't think so."

"It was like the first day I moved in there. I went into the living room and he was sitting there in front of the tv, watching Gilligan's Island and eating Chinese food. Remember Booger from Revenge Of The Nerds?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, I'm not kidding, that is exactly what this guy looked like. I mean, I'm talking EXACTLY!"

"Holy shit."

"I can still remember the episode he was watching."

"Which one?"

"It was the one where the gorilla finds like some stash of hand grenades and starts throwing hand grenades at everyone. I mean, like why the hell was there a gorilla on an island anyway? Gorillas don't live on islands."

"I don't remember that one. Man, remember the professor?"

"Fuck yeah. That dude was a fuckin' badass! He was a sexy motherfucker!"

"Yeah he was. That was back when men didn't have to be all muscled up and shit. Ya know, I really think I had a crush on the professor!"

"Haha. Yeah, well. Man, I bet he had a huge hog! It's always those subtle good looking guys. He probably had like a 31 inch waist or something... Anyway, you know, he was sitting there..."

"Wait, what was his name again?"

"Lenny. He was sitting there, watching Gilligan's Island, and I said, hey, my name's Phil, and he just kept staring at the tv, slurping up his fuckin' soup. God, I hate hearing people eat soup. Or cereal. It's just fucking disgusting. I just want to bash their fucking faces in!"

"Yeah, that doesn't really bother me."

"No?"

"No, not really."

"Huh. So then, ya know, I asked him how long he had lived there, and he dropped his spoon into the soup and he looked at me and said, I don't feel like talking to you. I don't wanna talk to anyone, okay? I said, sure, man, no problem."

"Damn."

"Yeah. I guess he was all fucked up and was living on disability. They said he went down to Jamaica or something and got all mixed up with the locals and he took something and lost his mind. He was an aircraft controller for Northwest. Is Northwest even still around?"

"I don't think so. I don't know."

"Yeah, I don't think so either. Wait, Delta bought 'em. That's right. Anyway, there were all these incidences with him. I lived there off and on for years and I only saw him a couple of times. He just stayed in his room and ordered Chinese food. That's all he ate. Every now and then, someone in his family would call and you'd go knock on his door and tell him but he never answered. So then I went over to Milan and when I got back I heard that one day out of nowhere the police surrounded the house and closed off the block and evacuated everyone. They sent in a SWAT team and they broke down the door and took him away. He'd been stockpiling weapons and bomb making shit."

"Oh fuck."

"Yeah. It's funny, ya know, more and more I find I can sympathize with almost anyone. I can look back at nearly everyone in my life and I can't blame them or even judge them all that much. As a whole, you know, I can't stand humanity, but as individuals, they're pretty interesting. I wish I could go back and talk to Lenny, ya know. I really feel like I understand him now. I feel like I could've helped him."

"Oh yeah? What would you have said?"

"Shit, I don't know. Something."

BRUTAL DIAGNOSES

"They put you on WHAT?"

"Pristiq. It's the new version of Effexor."

"Dude, you're not depressed. You're probably not even an artist. You've just got tax problems!"

NO, NO, WE'LL DO IT

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, man. My friend, Stacy, works with him. Next time you're in the city, go in there. He works like happy hour and shit."

"Dude, I can't believe that. They were fucking huge! I saw them at Tramps. I mean, he's gotta be what, in his late forties by now?"

"Yeah, probably. He might even be in his early fifties."

"Jesus, man, I hate hearing shit like that."

"Yeah, I know, but at the same time, I think that's exactly what's needed. I don't know, something's happened, something's changed. Even when I see something great anymore, it just doesn't matter as much. You see it and then it's gone, and then what? Everything's been done and everyone's great at everything, everyone knows everything. Everything just seems so fucking pointless."

"It's called nihilism, dude. You're depressed."

"No, it's more than that. It's like me with my writing, I could care less about getting anything published anymore. I'm serious, I don't think about that shit at all anymore. I'm not interested in anything going on in that world. I mean, what's the point? It's just a big jackoff like everything else. I don't care what other writers have to say or publishers or anyone like that. I seriously don't give a shit. I can't think of anything less interesting. If I can make my brother laugh or my friend, Steve Walls, likes it, or my brother-in-law, that's all I care about anymore."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if you start getting some stuff published."

"Published in what? Like who the hell cares? What's that gonna do? Plus, I don't even think it's writing I'm after anymore. It's something else, something sort of in between it all or something. Normal writing just doesn't do it anymore. It can't reflect what needs to be reflected. It's totally inadequate. It's weird, man, I don't even enjoy having interesting conversations anymore. It's like even when it's interesting, it's not interesting. I'd rather talk to the idiot at the bar or eavesdrop on some ghetto bitch at Key Food. THAT'S what's interesting to me now. I'm just so fucking bored with all the people around here, all the intellectual bullshit and their goddamn art and all their fucking fundraisers and shit. GODDAMN IT, these people make me fucking miserable!"

"Maybe you guys SHOULD move?"

"Yeah, I'd just be miserable somewhere else. You know what's funny is that just now while I was saying all of that, I starting thinking maybe I'm just not there yet, ya know, I'm just not digging deep enough."

"You mean with your writing?"

"Yeah. Maybe I just haven't reached it yet? Maybe I'm still hovering around it? Maybe I'm just scared of the consequences if I were to really write, you know, like a real novel or something, and I'm just one of those pathetic people that's angry with themselves but takes it out on the world?"

"Maybe?"

"Shit, I better go. I gotta be at work by noon."

"Yeah, alright. See ya later. Hey, let's go up the mountain sometime."

"Sure."

"You always say that."

"No, no, we'll do it."

APPROPRIATE REACTIONS. Undrawn cartoons by Philip Bram:

PANEL ONE: A nice spring day (weekend, lots of people) in a quaint little tourist town. A friendly looking middle aged couple pushes a stroller along Main Street. The woman (pushing the stroller) is in a flowery sundress covered with a wrap while the man sips on a to-go coffee with his other hand stuffed in the pocket of his jeans. They have stopped to peer into the window of a vacant store front with a large sign reading: "COMING SOON! CAFE RUMI"

PANEL TWO: Two dickheads on ultra hipstered out, intentionally loud, motorcycles, one Harley, one Triumpth, blast by, waking up their baby and setting off many car alarms. All the people turn and look. An old man covers his ears. The irate woman steps out, yelling after them: "I HOPE YOU FUCKIN' DIE IN A TERRORIST ATTACK YOU FUCKING ASSFUCKS!!!"

APPROPRIATE REACTIONS, Undrawn Cartoons By Philip Bram:

ONE PANEL: Two workers are working the kill floor at a slaughterhouse full of pigs. MAN ONE is doing the killing with the hand held device while MAN TWO corrals the pigs up the ramp into the metal holding slot. 

MAN ONE: "Well, ya know, they say their emotions are almost identical to ours."

MAN TWO: "I believe that. We'd've made pretty good Nazis then right? Haha!"

APPROPRIATE REACTIONS, Undrawn Cartoons By Philip Bram:

PANEL ONE: A piece of shit ghetto dude is standing with a group of other piece of shit ghetto dudes in the parking lot of a gas station. The piece of shit ghetto dude has his back to us and his huge male pit bull which he is only barely holding the leash of. 

PANEL TWO: A man walks past with his 3 year old boy in his arms, pulls out a gun, and shoots the pit bull between the eyes and keeps walking.