portrait of grimes
So remember when I said sooner than later, well the time has come. Art Crush Vol. 1 is for real, and on the internet for your viewing pleasure.
here is a cute little zine i was featured in. you should read it. props to brandon for putting this jawn together and all the other dope ass artists involved
asleep on my magical couch
We woke up on the floor on Monday morning. We had been drinking all night and we felt like shit. She picked me up and we crawled into bed. I called out of work and got fired. I didn’t care.
We woke up for real on Monday night. She made a bunch of scrambled eggs and we ate on her little table in the kitchen. It was already dark out. Now our sleep schedules would be fucked up. We’d have to go almost a full day without sleeping.
“You got fired.” She said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“What are you gonna do now,” She asked.
“Get a new job,” I said.
“Where,” She said.
“I don’t know,” I told her. “I don’t know.” She ate her eggs.
“Do you want coffee?” I asked. She said yeah. I made the coffee and stood there watching it brew. It smelled nice and it made me hungry again.
“Are there any eggs left?” I asked.
“You ate them all,” She said. The coffee finished and I poured her some. We sat at the table drinking it.
“Our sleeping schedule is gonna be all fucked up,” I told her. “We’re gonna have to stay up for like a whole day”
“You need to get a new job,” She said.
“I know,” I said.
She said, “The rent is due in two weeks.”
“I know,” I told her. “I’ll get it.”
“From where?” She asked. “You spent all your money last night.”
“You weren’t complaining,” I said.
“I was drunk,” She said.
“So was I,” I said.
“You got me drunk on purpose,” She said. I rubbed my thumb over the handle of my coffee mug. “I hate it when you get me drunk like that,” She said.
“Sorry,” I said. I went into the living room. I laid down on the couch.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Looking for a job,” I said.
“You’re not gonna find one there,” She said. I put my head under the cushions. “Get out,” She said. She was getting angry at me. I crawled in further.
“Get out.” She said. I crawled all the way under the cushions. There is a secret tunnel inside the couch that only I know about. It takes me wherever I want to go. A few years ago it took me to her apartment. A few years before that it took me to a dump in Staten Island. Before that it took me to a nice house on a farm. I can’t remember where I went before that. She pulled all the cushions off and threw them across the room but I was already behind an apartment building on Mascher Street in Olney. I stretched out on the couch and looked at the stars in the sky. I fell asleep right there, right after I woke up on her floor for the last time.
look look look
i recently sent a package to Chris McD, one of my former teachers who runs MEATHAUS and he wrote a post about it:
http://meathaus.com/2013/02/20/letter-to-meathaus-george-wylesol/
check it out, people. nourish your mind with heaping plate of art. look at all the other stuff on Meathaus. it is good for your bones.
