Activity Update

I salute you. Thanks to all my followers and readers, you are great!


So, For those of you who have been waiting for more Sci Fi fox or Good & Evil, I should not, but I must make the same unfortunate excuse as anyone who makes comics, that it takes a while. Since I’m not much in the way of drawing, It’s not that I’m working on one page for all this time, but I hope to put up many pages at once at once rather than keep the story so segmented for both. Issue 2 of G & E will be done soon. It’s a couple pages longer, But I will reboot the past issue with it.

Anyway, if you like my writing at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know. If you don’t like my writing, well, no one asked you. If you don’t have the attention span to read, then I guess I can only blame you for being uncultured swine. Since the majority of people rarely read past the first sentence, this is kind of an inside joke right now between you and me (hehe).
I made this poster, more comics will be soon, for now I leave you with space police:



The company of cats.

All in all I’d say that I enjoy the company of animals over that of humanity. Specifically cats, and if the mood strikes me I rather enjoy birds for a time. Yet rarely do these two coincide, for one tries to be free of all things that tether it to the earth while the other takes pleasure in the killing it’s prey. It is odd, because in that regard, the birds, always are searching and neurotically pronouncing their freedom, are never as free as the cat. In fact I must say that at this moment I’ve made the decision that the company of cats is probably the best company to keep.

Dogs depend on one another, and depend on surviving in an order to which they are loyal and happily in a degree of subservience. I might add that there may not be anything wrong with being content in subservience, only as long as one has their dignity in accepting their place. I have never known or met a cat that would be so dependable. I would rely on a dog to fight with me, and only rely on a cat if in the best terms, and even then cats can hold such a state of aloof ambivalence that they are unpredictable in their true convictions. Dogs are never as free as cats because they are bound by an order. A lone feral dog does not usually do well for itself. Always they are looking for that but cannot find. They carry a chip on their shoulder and burn out like a star after their life of skulking and killing gets to them.

Cats exist in this world knowing that they are alone from the getgo. They exist to serve their desires and maintain a confidence in that their decisions are what keeps them alive. Yet this solidarity does not mean that they do not enjoy the pleasures of their own. Cats find the regular opportunities to make love in a way humans endlessly fail at grasping.

The only comparable creature who might be as free and with very interesting romantic inclinations is that of the Fox. The fox has a long courtship by comparison to the other two species where they chase each other around with their little games until a conclusion is reached, they both win, and they raise their children together. They do this every year or so with various partners or the same, which is a very civilized system. It is in the fox that one sees the energy and dumb love of the dog, and the aloof smirk of the cat. Alas, foxes are bandits and thrive on having their games to play. If they aren’t outsmarting someone, they are likely being hopelessly outsmarted. When that happens they die.

Instead of getting caught up in this game or that, the Cat will ignore the game and just take the reward. Once they do get caught up, they know they are useless.

You have to relate the existence of all creatures to that of their relativity to humanity, and in the case of the Fox, they are a pest and killed with little remorse. The Dog holds the exalted place of “Man’s best friend” and will  lie under the table, happy with scraps. Yet the cat, the cat can exist in both worlds. It is a place that mythology once gave the Fox because of their nature to be seen at dusk, the worlds of night and day. Yet more fitting in this dominated world, the true shape-shifter is the cat.

That is why I find myself so alike the cat.


The finest part of living with creatures overall is that there are no words. No ugly, in the way-tangle-in-your-mouth words. All words do is mangle how people feel, what is true, and what is not. For instance, if you asked a cat which religion has the true god, he would look at you only with confusion. If you asked a cat how to tell a woman you love her, he would have no earthly idea what you mean. Even if they did talk, the notion of feeling things while not feeling them at the moment, is absurd and an impossible craft to attempt. All there is, is feeling and action. You are given the tools to survive in your hands er…paws, and you take what you can from the world that put you here.

It’s much easier for a cat to do this, because they have no laws. It begs the question of how many cats actually get away with murder.
I woke up Thursday on the dashboard of a derelict van. The sun that beamed through the windscreen was extraordinarily hot and I abandoned sleeping longer. Peering out from my van I saw that it was a bright day with a clear blue sky  beyond the piles of smashed up cars. Over the distant skyline. I wandered for a while through the junkyard, and found nothing of interest. I decided that perhaps I should return to my apartment. I began feeling like I was losing touch again with society.

I made my way through the chain fence of the junkyard and down the alley to a clothing store. Inside I changed and left with a clean black suit. I did not pay for it, but I would return at some other time. The clerk had not even seen me enter or leave so it was as if I was never there. She was half asleep reading a catalog with a big bubble of chewing gum during both events.

I recalled the smell of cigarettes from the cafe across the street, and politely asked for one. The man was with his girlfriend of some kind and did not want to seem stingy or uncharitable. He gave me one to that effect and lit it for me. I thanked him on his charity and he said to think nothing of it. His girlfriend, politely waited for me to leave before talking. The man smiled proudly as I left, he really just wanted to look as frivolous as possible to compensate for the little money he had. I knew this shortly because the wallet I took from his breast pocket had barely enough to catch a train downtown.

I supposed it could not be helped. He probably was going to feign something about not having his wallet with him anyway once the check came.

I puffed the cigarette as I walked. looking up at the street signs. the cars honking and flying down the road. People passed me as I walked. In such a hurry! It is amazing how such a species could dominate the world and only succeed in making life harder for themselves. To make time this special commodity when time is an impossible thing to save up for or create. To whoever is making a profit off of all this, I tip my hat.

I turned the corner at the first street I recognized as intersecting near the train station. Letting out a drag I was immediately distracted when I saw this creature strolling ahead of me. She wore a white dress with a black band around her waist. her collar was tinged with black, and she had a straw hat turned to the side. I must admit however, I could not take my eyes off that lythe form. The white dress outlined her figure so well in the sunshine. One aspect of her anatomy was extenuated by the black band around her waist.

I shook myself from my head, and was overcome with an irresistible urge. I ran after her and put my hand on her shoulder.

“Hello” I said coolly.

She stopped and looked at me, Her big green eyes in the center of a wonderful face. She looked down at my hand.


“You know I have an apartment we could go to.”

“GET OFF OF ME!” She said and swung her black gloved fist into my jaw. I fell to the ground, and she stormed off.


I took time before I pulled myself up, collected the cigarette that fell from my mouth and watched her confidently pump down the street. Onlookers giggled at me.


As I walked towards the train station, I realized that my fresh bruise, new suit, and brown leather wallet, were all proofs that I had indeed spent too much time in the company of cats.


Slouched back in the gravel,
The darkened lake rests,
A slight pitter patter,
Muse still and quiet lest,
The Wind rises soon,
Northeast under the waxing southern moon.

Violet surrounding a pitch perfect pearl,
An agony to the flowers beginning  to unfurl,
Wind slides a gray tundra over to cover,
The cathedral sky,
The rising sun,
like burdened lover.
Pioneer leaves jump from the treetops and fly,
Slow dirge of grey blustery day rises the tide.

Light of mirth to the water’s surface,
Twirling with their partners,
Glide with silent pertinence.
The forces that make them happy martyrs,
Phases music in the distance,
Carousel of fallen pigments.


It was a crisp autumn sunset. The trees blazed against the sky and waves of wind ran through the grass, sending the endless leaves swooping through the air. The tremor of winter hung silent and foreboding in the pall of closing eventide. The field stretched far and wide under the great hill that stood before it. The space sitting alone and serene.
It was then we two came up the mound before the field and viewed the potential.  I and her, we warriors of the plane, left the world behind us. Her yellow hair cascaded behind her and filled with the golden sunlight as we made over the crest. She held in her hand the discus. We stood for a moment before the field. The cool gust swept by. And with a mutual smile I sprinted down the hill and let my feet carry me far out into the grassy sea.
She released the saucer and it soared spinning with perfection, gilding magically through the autumn air. I kept my course and already my companion seemed like a dot on the far hill. The white circle spiraling towards a point before me, catching air currents and moving ever closer. All was a pregnant breath: my body operating on sight and judgment of this one object. All thought and contemplation of all time and space meant nothing to me as the grass rushed by.
Then, as if toying with me, a huge gust drove the Frisbee wide and far off in another direction. It arced towards the road. As if possessed I responded. The ground became uneven, corrugating in waves. My footing was thrown off, and the point that I imagined the disc would land seemed to grow farther and farther than my legs could carry. None the less, I persevered. I drove each leg and each step with all speed and ferocity that I could muster. Another gust thrust the disc upwards, gaining in speed and distance. I was no longer calculating for it, but chasing it.
I did not think I would catch it, but I could still see it, and to keep it from being lost was somehow all I could think about. Across the hard road and into the standing trees I ran against the twigs and leaves as color rained down around me. Eventually It became lost from sight and I stopped running. Leaves flew all around and I merely walked in the same direction.
It was after a few moments that through the trees, I came upon a sight. Standing in the woods just beyond a pond covered in autumn leaves was a Statue of Helios holding a great golden disk. It shined as a ray of sunlight fell through the trees. It was at that moment that the Frisbee came and hit the golden saucer. The color drained from it, and It’s power was imparted. I picked it up and threw it high into the air, It found Kay, and a new day began.


Now if you happen to find yourself,

Unable to get out of your bed,

Just listen to the song I sing,

Or else you might end up dead.


There is a reason the sunlight beams

Through the closed curtain

There is a reason the birds do sing,

They warn you of a peril.


Now if you find your covers warm,

Comfort do not thank,

For lingering in this cozy world to long,

Will sap you of your streingth


Your legs will turn to jelly

Your arms to tar,

Your head will fill with hot air

fill with nonsense and stars.


Do not let your fate

be that of languid goo.

Cast aside comfort

and breath in the sunshine anew.


Lift from your resting world and lend your limbs

to electric life pulses.



The sun was relentless to the rocks of clifftop. The sky spanned silently blue with clouds only sparely interrupting across it. The spring snow still clung to the forest floor defining the skeletal furs and pines along the valley. From the cliffs  it wept sparkling mountain water down the rocks in rivulets. The Valley funneled a great tunnel of wind that whipped in from across the distant hills and farmland. The great gulf of space was the Sky and earth opposed, the fresh snow and the blazing sun. On the wind’s current a silent black scout wafted under the sun.

The wind filled under his wings as he tracked the cliff side, forms of rock jutted out from under trees and snow bearing the naked mountain. He looked across the landscape and the vast sky with trained eyes tacking slightly back and forth on the breeze. The sun above gleamed off his oiled black feathers. His talons curled beneath his ragged visage. His eyes great spheres of pure nightjade. The air rushed by quietly as the lone crow curled around the mountaintops.

His dark beak flashed up as a motion caught his eye. A collection of black dots circling against the blue ceiling. “A congregation” he thought.  The old crow angled himself towards them, catching the rising heat on the wind. The congregation continued it’s slow circling as the old crow soared across clifftop and began to rise to them.  His brothers and sisters called to him in greeting.

The old crow returned their call and joined the congregation seamlessly in time with the circle. They communicated where the band should move to best train young, with abundant food and shelter from enemies.  Groups turned to the center of the circle and gave their bids, young crows with no experience. The old crow thought a moment. It had been long since the band nested above the rocks of clifftop. The band had not returned to the place since his own hatching at the ancient meeting site.
And so the old crow called to his brethren, “Why not here?”

Those higher on the current circled and called amongst themselves: “Here? Here? Here? Here.”
And so it was agreed.

The clan would return in three days once all had been gathered. Three would stay to make their claim. The old crow was pleased with this and glided down as three broke from the formation above.  The old crow landed within the pines and searched for food among the forest. The other three floated down in formation. they discussed the new brooding place before they split up to scout the area.

A falcon mother came down through the center of the valley. She took care to stay out in the open. Hers was a life filled with the chirping of her children and hunting for food separated by swaths of silence above the forest below. The quiet breezes today suited her nicely. Her eyes followed the grey ribbon of road that meandered through the valley forests. A long car rolled silently along the asphalt. A cloud drifted over the sun and it’s heat lifted for a few silent moments in the raw temperature of the day. It was only fate that she nested on clifftop.

As she glided through the valley, she heard above, the congregation of crows chattered loudly to each other. She saw them circling and a maternal fear leapt through  her heart. She did not waste energy to push through the air but dove from her observation current into a jet-stream below. She carved through the air gliding quickly side to side to catch all she could. Her nest with her three younglings sat waiting and exposed.

She came about down to the grey-brown rock of Clifftop. Unseen, a warning called out from the surrounding trees.
She did not heed and moved in low along the towering cliff-face.  The crow scout, who had spotted her, was unwittedly perched on the edge only a few trees away from the falcon’s children, fortunate enough to be sleeping in their nest in a bundle of soft young feathers.  The crow saw only the enemy. He leaped from the tree and glided out to meet her out in the open above the valley.

The falcon maneuvered, delicately angling for the attack.

With the sun high above them, the falcon turned as the crow came to impact. The two collided, scratching and pecking at each other. Under gravity they fell free in combat until the crow was struck in the throat. He broke off and dove straight down in an effort to escape. The Falcon followed. They picked up speed hurtling towards the earth.

The trees and snow came rushing up, but still the crow dove and the mother falcon followed. Faster.

The crow lost his nerve, just above the trees he pulled up and the falcon impacted into his back. Her talons rent the muscle under his left wing and the crow spun down into the branches resulting in a heap of snow and blood.







I am…


I am a Woman,

I am a Man,

I am Strait,

I am Gay,

I am Loving,

I am Hateful,

I am Strong,

I am Weak,

I am pensive,

I am ambition,

I am sexy,

I am Ugly,

I am peace,

I am Gore,

I am a saint,

I am perverse,

I am Blunt,

I am wishy washy,

I am an addict,

I am freedom,

I am a Recluse,

I am a Butterfly,

I am A Fox,

I am a Wolf,

I am a Raven.

I am the dusk.

I am This,

I am That,

I am Depth.

I am Flat,

A vast Ocean,

and Dry sand,

Sky. Earth,

Space. Nothing.

Love. Fuck.

Happy. Depressed.

One. Zero.

Black. White.


When you take away all the names,

All That is left,

Is me.

A walking contradiction.


Grasping at a dying whips of youth while becoming a man,

Feeling like a child,

Feeling like an old man.


Gods am I a fool,

He who speaks swiftly and with full intention at a moment,

But stutters and spits,

or says nothing,

at all at the right ones.

And an anger.


A frustration, a sadness, a looming specter of fear.

As I brazenly go, skipping with oblivion.

Holding on to nothing but the bridges I make as I go.

A plan uncharted and unmade before me.

I slide myself through comfortable channels,

And slide past the difficulties.

Finding who happens to be in my way and making

intimate handshakes of vice.

Letting Love pass by.


It speaks in a language I do not know.


I know only the softness of thighs,

The breath of yours on mine,

The mind beyond the movements.

I feel them as real as our hearts beating

I feel them in sighs and gasps

And I hold them in my arms.

but I forget to catch.

And say nothing as you go back to your mental world

I’m caught in a web of assumptions

trails of possibility.


And a bitter wave hardens me from the inside.

My thoughts like tree rot spread through my core

Until I hate to look upon you, until I hate others

I wear my bitter jealousy in a smile.

Waiting for clarity.


Lost in contradictions.