Children of the Black Sun
though i was originally calling it a graphic novel of sorts,
at the end of it's progression, it's probably more accurate to call it "a graphic manifesto".
in case you receive the Not Available error message from youtube
the 'high quality video' will be posted on my site soon [post coding video app]
so that we can all feel A Little Less Stalked By The Google Monster.
speaking of feeling stalked:
The Most Good My Stupid Smart Phone Ever Did For Me:
during a recent trip to sacramento to play at the NORCAL NOISEFEST (**!fun!**),
i decided to make a somewhat holiday of this short, but much needed trip away from sf.
I <3 Motels ~ especially Motels with Swimming Pools that You Can Actually Swim In,
so upon arrival around midnight, i got a room at a motel 6 and excitedly looked forward to a swim in the morning before going to the festival.
while doing the heavy-noise-gear schlepp to my room on the 2nd floor, i was greeted at the top of the stairwell by a guy staying there for what looked like an extended amount of time, as his wide open door displayed a disturbing array of long term debri strewn about the room. he bummed a smoke, then said he'd buy it off me. as i rolled him one - which takes a minute - he asked several questions to which i responded with a vague but cheerful answer. then, he attempted to slip a dollar down the front of my shirt, rather than Hand It To Me like a human being. instantly, my face fell from cheerful to disgusted and i took my leave of him.
across the street stood an all-night diner and i was starving at my usual 3am dinner time. my phone had died during the drive, and to get food, i would now have to pass the creepy guy again on the way downstairs, so i brought the dead phone with me and proceeded to have The Most Intimate and Hilarious Phone Conversation With My Most Awesome Other Person In The World Who Will Also Cut You In A Crazy Heartbeat If You So Much As Think About Fucking With Him Or Her.... and it worked!!!
fearing possible witnesses, he said nothing to me as i passed him to go order food, and again as i came back with my food, once more to get a drink out of the vending machine, and finally back to my room, not a mother fuckin peep... needless to say, i bolted the hell out of my door the second it closed.
SELF-DEFENSE BY SUGGESTION...!!
about 20 minutes later, around 4 AM, the dude felt he had some sort of right to come POUND on my door. [HOW RUDE!] and AGAIN at 4:04 [THE AUDACITY!!] i did not answer, all lights out, nor did i respond to his jeers across the parking lot about wanting to "see something good" while i swam a few laps in the pool the next morning. for some odd reason, i had packed the straight razor i used to carry every time i left the haus, back when the PTSD was at it's THREAT LEVEL RED, and although i haven't even seen it in over a year, i came across it while packing for this trip and brought it Just Because....i had come across it. it did indeed come in handy when that next morning came, even if just for emotional support - because i'll be damned if that fucktard was gonna get in the way of me being able to Do Something That I Love To Do, like swimming in the pool on my One & Only One-Day-Vacation.
as i packed up to check out, the desire to kick him in the nuts or at least rip him a new facehole and/or asshole was MASSIVE. sat down instead, did my daily meditation and was quietly swayed by THE GUIDING LIGHT IN MY GUTS that told me this:
the male ego, being the fragile little baby duck covered in vanilla pudding and chocolate sauce that it is, will not take kindly to any form of scolding; not only would he Not Listen To A Word I Was Saying [as per usual], his resulting frustration would probably be taken out on another woman, or on a kid, or on an animal later on that day. teaching him a lesson in how i make peanut butter with my steel toed boots was also a No Go. i'd be standing there, in front his room-house, likely to also be the home of at least one loaded gun.... then, i'd still have the heavy gear schlepp through the parking lot = plenty of aiming time = not worth it.
SO WHAT TO DO WITH THIS EMOTION ?? as i drove in the general direction of the festival, i knew i would have to expel the rage before it had the chance to solidify and coagulate into Anger Unexpressed aka Depression. pulling over, i wrote added verses in a new and incomplete track called "I'm Being Stalked By A Corporation". most of the words in the first version were just funny, focusing more on the Corporation-As-Human aspect, but after the refresher course in what it's like, i was now compelled to focus on that feeling in human terms and began scrawling down words like mad.
although this was a fairly slight and somewhat insignificant episode of The Grossness That Is, especially in relation to my last 40 years of life, is it possible that a mere 5 minutes of daily meditation has made this shift occur in my thinking and reaction to yet another example of The Grossness That Is? the life-long empirical theory i have held onto is that The Only Way Of Ceasing A Male's Repetitive Violence Upon You Is By Extolling Sudden and Severe Violence Upon Him Once Or Maybe Twice If He Wasn't Listening The First Time.
and it served me well from 19 to 39.
but here i was, Managing my rage, Giving it free reign in one well-lit area, Letting it express itself while still being contained and not hurting anyone or myself with it...
all while drinking the much appreciated large cup of peet's coffee.
suddenly, feedback squeals and sound check hums caught my attention, so i looked over my shoulder and realized i had parked a mere 40 feet from the venue where the noise fest was starting...
a couple hours later, i performed the new "song". with all the mic effects, i'm certain no one could understand a fuckin word i was saying/singing/screaming but it didn't matter.
catharsis is as katharsis does.
and that is why i had pretty much forgotten all about that satchel of rage it until just now, and instead remembered the whole experience as The Best One Day Vacation Ever.
*u can call me ph!*