Reversed Tourettes

Fuck off! Oh, I´m sorry I meant merry christmas.

Oil on canvas

July 12, 2008

Pure literature...

Para não tar a repetir a minha triste história, vou contar a todos ao mesmo tempo:
Ontem à noite foi uma desgraça, là fui eu sozinho e abandonado (sim o Jorge fodeu-me)...apanhei uma puta duma bebedeira violenta (explico a violencia mais à frente), mas não sei como aconteceu...o pior é que o Dylan não valeu um caralho, maior desilusão da minha vida, fodido abandonei o recinto...depois de me perder à procura do carro, lá o encontrei 57min depois...là cheguei a casa e arranjei um estacionamento espectacular - foi a melhor coisa que me aconteceu ontem. Lá entrei em casa e comi (não me lembro o quê mas comi buès). Deitei-me e ai foi possuido por um espirito maléfico e tomou a forma de um liquido viscoso nojento que "poltergeistou" fora de mim como Niagra falls mas em sentido contràrio -. "o queijo da pizza tava estragado" disse eu...e agora o quarto tem um cheiro misto de cerveja, leite, merda e um animal atropelado morto à 2 dias...tudo culpa do Jorge.

PL (Pre-G.J.)

Giant Jockey gets revenge

There he was fucking mocking me after all these years with his martini and beer vs. my gay martini and lemon juice, it was only 11am but still made me look like a pussy...
There he was, he looked like a rock star, actually more like a local god, the kind of guy that doesn´t mind dying no further than 5km from where he grew up, he probably went all the way to Tenerife on vacation once but fucking hated it. Bad boys don´t wear shorts...
There he was, cool as ever, you know the type that has sex with prostitutes but doesn´t have to pay and the whores will probably cook and clean for him...
There he was, working class hero, straight out of a Springsteen song, probably never touched a computer, cause that´s how you catch aids, google, blog, swine flu, and all those fucked up diseases and viruses...
There he was, reminded me of Mel Gibson in "Payback" the first and only guy (so far) that beat the living shit out of me, this was over 20 years ago and I was sitting at the table right next to him. He looked exactly the same, a little more seasoned, like he only kicks ass out of principle and not just for fun...
There he was "preaching" to his retarded looking buddies and something was on his chest, he looked at me and for a second I thought he was going to say something like "you were my favorite, it was an honor to kick that beautiful ass" or "I am just jealous", it turns out it was a "I know that fag drinking that fruity drink from somewhere" look...

There he was the big fish swimming in a shit infested little pond rambling on something and the apes were paying attention and me - the little monkey tuned in - blah blah blah, the man is sticking it to me, blah blah blah, I work my ass off, and then he said it, the 6 magical words that set me free from this miserable fuck - "my base salary is 682 euros".
There I was the guy that won the fight after all and all I had to do was sell my soul... "Mel" didn´t get his payback this time around.
What a great day to be a sell-out.

PL

Giant Jockey at the gym

My recurring nightmare came true - I fell on my ass (arse for you Bifes) at the gym. In my dream my bum leg craps out and I smash my teeth and I end up looking like a retarded jack-o-lantern...luckily that did not happen...anyway I was on the treadmill running at 3000km/hr while listening to Artie Lange and he said something that I will probably relate to in three to five yrs from now - "A lot of people say you do not have energy after you fuck but all the girls I'm with have just enough energy to throw up and then ask me for 500 dollars..." I starting laughing like crazy got violently launched from the treadmill everyone there thought a 767 crashed into the building and I just laid there screaming "estou bem" and laughing at the same time...you know what they say -"the bigger the jockey, bigger is the fall...

PL

Giant Jockey series Vol I

OK, he doesn´t like blogs, at least that what he says... But as you all will agree he writes good shit, so I´ll post his stuff here. He will bitch and moan about this but secretly he will enjoy it.
Paul, my brother, just keep it coming.

This Christmas I am sending cards and this the message I intend to spread...

He has a thing with blogs and shit, but this is worth publishing... Sorry Paul.

"I hate these bastards. And I suspect you feel the same...They might call us bigots, but at least we are UNIVERSAL bigots. Right? Shit on those people. Everybody you see these days might have the power to get you locked up...who knows why? They will have reasons out of some horrible Kafka story, but in the end it won't matter any more than a full moon behind clouds. Fuck them.
Christmas hasn't changed much in 22 years - not even 2,000 miles west and 8,000 feet up in the Rockies. It is still a day that only amateurs can love. It is well and good for children and acid freaks to believe in Santa Claus - but it is still a profoundly morbid day for us working professionals. It is unsettling to know that one out every 20 people you meet on Xmas will be dead this time next year...Some people can accept this, and some can't. That's why God made whiskey, and also why Wild Turkey comes in 300 Dollar shaped canisters during most of the Christmas season, and also why criminal shitheads will hit you up for tips or they will twist your windshield wipers into spaghetti and urinate on your door handles..."

-HST

Self portrait

Happy birthday Motherfucker!

Straight from NZ

There she is...

Welcome back Kiwi girl

Sketches from 2008

In a long forgotten Wednesday, at a time when only misfits and drunks meet… They contemplate anything but the sheer fact that for some unspeakable and misfortunate event, that can be easily blamed on the planets alignment or beer being served at the wrong temperature, sometimes life sucks.
That’s that time of the night where every movement from the minute’s hand of a clock will slowly wake up the dark and rotten lost souls of this sewer smelling world. And that’s the time when you’ll hear something like:`
"Então Sónia, tiveste um dia dificil como nós?"

Wake up!!!!

Is this fucking club dead or what?
Where are you, so called proud members?
I´ll have to quote the great Groucho Marx:
"I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members."
Peace.

Yap, that's me...