Lefty Limbo

The world looks lovely
behind bloodshot eyes
shit on my shoes
and bee-filled dandelions
Get away from there Greg
Knowing they sting
not knowing the pain
I miss the rain
Saucers in the sky
in circles, patterns
I pause

They’re only spotlights
but I wish they weren’t
extra terrestrial
come say hello.

I’m starting to get back into the swing of things, as far as doodling is concerned. If I really want to, I can dish out the rest of the 99 Doodles within the next three months. But sometimes I feel I need to do things more substantial than just a quick draw. I just need to do it.

I’m happy to share some good news with you—my pal Ryan will be taking a bike hike across the country with his best friend in less than a month, and he’s created a website to document the entire trip. This should be exciting. He’s already begun posting his pre-trip thoughts and preparatory measures. Go ahead and take a look:

Honest Expression

I’ll be putting this link in my sidebar for quick and easy access to the millions who visit my blog on a daily basis between bagels.

Stay tuned for the next exciting doodle.

Spurned by a comment by my niece-in-law, I’ve been drawing a lot lately. Actually every weekday for about a week now. They’ll make their humble way here to cyberspace in time.

This same niece-in-law also suggested, in so many words, that I make t-shirts of my random illustrations. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. Hmm. I think I’ll make a shirt of this one right here. Any pre-orders?

This one goes out to Jeni.

Yes, so my arrival to work today was filled with the ash, smoke and other wildfire by-products that nature blew at me, thanks to the latest valley blazes. The burning brush smell always reminds me of my visits to the Philippines. Speaking of which, it’s been so long since I’ve been…way too long.

Shamshiri Grill in Westwood has always been a favorite dinner destination spot for us. It’s close by, serves immense portions for cheap, the food is fresh and tasty, our kid digs it, and it’s open late. Trust me, when you’re a new parent on the Westside, all these things really matter.

Last night we ordered the usual—Beef Koobideh with a side of fries. My wife and I, in our shared morbid humour, have constantly joked that the long, clumpy logs of delectable beef look a lot like the trains of digested material which our bodies dispatch every so often. Yes, quite a disgusting synonymity, but we would shrug it off and dig in (to the Koobideh, that is).

But last night was nearly an exception; for me, at least, after taking a trip to their restroom and being greeted with a clogged toilet, stuffed with too much toilet paper and crinkly butt protectors. The real clincher (no pun intended)? A huge, honkin’, curled up fecal super-mega-log on top of it all, which stared up at me like, “Hell no, I ain’t goin’ down!”

I’m not easily disturbed…in fact, I actually seek obscure morbid morsels…but this was definitely something I didn’t want to see before chowing down on something that looked remarkably identical to it. So I turned towards the urinal and did my business, but that shit sausage wouldn’t leave me alone. It was like a horrible traffic accident—you know it’s terrible, but you can’t help but look.

Ugh. My stomach reeled for some seconds and surely my face twisted in disgust. I tried to flush the toilet by extending my foot to the flusher. The toilet gurgled to life and made the mess rise even higher. “Aw, fuck!” I gasped, and prepared to stand on my tippy toes as I watched the icky shit stew fill the bowl—if that log could laugh, I’m sure it was howling—but thankfully, it didn’t overflow. What a relief.

I finished up and got outta there, wondering if someone was going to be waiting to use the bathroom. Nobody was there. But I’m sure it was gonna be a treat to whoever went next. Then there’s the person who has to actually clean it…

I’ve decided to immortalize this momentous occasion by drawing the log in all its glory. And there you have it. 10 of 99.