deviantART: by:Weeperblast

deviantART: by:Weeperblast http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:Weeperblast&section=today deviantART RSS for by:Weeperblast en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Wed, 09 Dec 2009 20:51:07 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png Hammerdown http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28846477/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28846477/ Wed, 09 Dec 2009 14:05:52 PST

We can't see each other.

I can't get my head wrapped around this.

I've had tumultuous relationships before, where one person stops feeling love towards the other and decides to break it off. I can handle that. I've been there before. This is different. We're still in love, but because of the threats by your parents, we cannot ever see each other. An outside party acting on our relationship.

This isn't a problem that I've faced before. I don't know what to do.

I'm clueless, helpless and vulnerable.

Lonely and crestfallen. It's cold outside.

It's cold and I'm knee deep in our snow, and I'm not giving up. I'm going to choke back the vomit and cult my way to you. The heat of my persistence and the coals of my love will turn the snow to steam.

I am going to have to face down another obstacle, and I know that you and I will prevail. I'll do everything in my power to clear my name.

I'm bringing the hammer down.

I love you.

MWNL.

DAK.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Kingdom http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28621182/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28621182/ Fri, 27 Nov 2009 23:43:12 PST

Kings are made, not born.
They are tested, not lauded.
As with kings, their kingdoms are made by trial and suffering.
Suffering brings purity.
A king must work for his kingdom
I am a king, and this is my kingdom.
It is made of cobwebs and bones.
It is made of dust and hides.
This is the Dead Animal Kingdom.
I am the Dead Animal King.

No one can take my kingdom from me.

I am not going to be constricted by the failures and shortcomings of their grace.

As with my kingdom, for the sake of my kingship, I have suffered greatly.

As for my queen, my suffering is not yet over. Royal blood is boiled, it is made for spilling.

Bring the Regicide. I will not ever be dethroned.

DAK. MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Emma and Emma http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28531368/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28531368/ Mon, 23 Nov 2009 15:22:42 PST

For now, for now.

MWNL. DAK.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Laughter http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28459337/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28459337/ Thu, 19 Nov 2009 20:38:05 PST

Laughter fills my chest when people try to shoot me down. I eat flak, I chew up and shit out all the little pellets, bullets and shells that are fire at me. IÂm the lickable fucking dirigible. Broken faggots and their self-actualization-through-videotaped-masturbation are the dinosaurs to my new gasoline drink. I love this. IÂve got arms and guns, and every good new reason to hate this shithole IÂve grown to love.

And beauty is undeniable. We all know jealousy when we see it.

Doomsday, every day.

W

]]> *Weeperblast Orbiting a Dead Sun http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28324149/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28324149/ Thu, 12 Nov 2009 23:02:22 PST

I am the buzzards that are circling her.

I am the deathbed that she will sleep upon.

I am the ipecac that she drinks in.

I am the shoulder for her to cry on.

I am the arms for her to be held in.

I am the skin that she touches.

We are the lips that we share.

Nothing else in this world.

Earth end.

goodbye.

Winslow.

]]> *Weeperblast The Two of Us http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28296003/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28296003/ Wed, 11 Nov 2009 15:11:33 PST

We are warlike in our behavior and in our ritualistic protocopulation.

We love each other and believe in manifest destruction.

And I don't care about the sex that anyone else has.

I don't care about the drugs, the drinks or the scabs they pick off their legs.

I'm secure in this. Two become one, one against everything.

Humiliate, torture, kill.

I love you, dear.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Doomsday. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28152872/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28152872/ Wed, 04 Nov 2009 23:03:51 PST

My heart pounds hard when I am with her, but I find that it pounds even harder when we risk being caught. It's the most dangerous addiction of all my vices; while it does not risk life or limb, it threatens something far more valuable: us.

I believe I have fallen in love with my doomsday device.

Swastigagging(A Heimlich for Himmler)

I'll put up new photos soon.

MWNL.

W

]]> *Weeperblast Coming Upstairs http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28022076/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28022076/ Thu, 29 Oct 2009 00:26:21 PDT

My basement is my slaughterhouse. I take apart dead animals and let the blood collect on the floorboards. I break the little rib-bones from possums and cats like flimsy twigs. I hang the dead on my walls. I drive nails into the wooden support beams to display the dead before my glistening lips.

These bodies are the crown and glory of my lifeÂmy effervescent treasures of rotting bodies. Everything IÂve killed, IÂve earned. I am standing here, thinking these thoughts upon a heap of stinking flesh of decomposing history. The blood in my veins is like the blood soaked deep in my clothes, just as red as any of the critters that were unfortunate enough to stumble upon my path. And I adore you.

IÂve made investments before, and theyÂve gone under. IÂve failed, tripped up, fallen and I have been broken before, but not anymore. IÂve gotten elbow-deep in dead skin, blood up to my ankles in the pits of my basement. I left my scruples at the door, and hung up a sign that reads: ÂIf anyone else passes through this door, IÂll kill them. Unless itÂs you.Â

One step into my basement, the smell will sting your senses. Not just your nose, but your eyes as well. The brine of the decomposition will stay in the fibers of your clothing for days. You canÂt wash it off. The flagrant perfume of my profane, procrustean labors is overwhelming and is the product of my obsession towards savage dissection. Roadkill on my walls, each dead animal is my trophy; each hardened, beady eye is a relic of my wild, twitching desire. My horror is both written and erased in this basement. My bloody freedom made manifest in its absolute, reckless abandon. Despite these claims, I donÂt want to spend my time in the basement. I want to spend my time upstairs, with you.

The first time I killed, I felt that rush. Just a dead raccoon, whatever. The rush was magnificent, and I swore on that grimy, greasy little raccoon body that I would never stop until that rush was constantly pounding my veins. Salvador Dali said ÂI donÂt do drugs, I am drugsÂ and to him, I say ÂI donÂt commit the kill. I am the kill.Â To this end, IÂve killed many animals and IÂve found diminishing returns amongst their dead. That is, until I met you. The drug I had found in the cessation of the tiny, beating heart inside that little body was rendered moot and obsolete ten thousand times over, just in my time with you.

Kissing you is like a cacophony of broken bones, gunshots and howls of agony, all the beauty of total misanthrope turned into progressive, nurturing care. Humbling adoration, fascination and desire. Emotional, mental, physical.

You sent me a photograph of yourself, smiling, with a dead pet in your hands and all I could see is the beauty in your eyes. There is something remarkable about you, something I have never seen in a human being. I love you.

MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast motherfucking car accident. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28009143/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/28009143/ Wed, 28 Oct 2009 09:41:10 PDT

Dude came out of nowhere, hit me on the side, I kinda spun a bit. I got a ticket. Then I took a test in economics.

Fucking shit christ. I just want to hang out with my lady. Make the car and the funny rubber smell go away.

Listen to Portal.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast horse where my head should be http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27993468/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27993468/ Tue, 27 Oct 2009 11:30:15 PDT

one of my puppies died

and that is sad.

I love dead animals but sometimes I hate seeing animals die.

I don't have anything to say here, but I am in love with a wonderful girl.

and that's all that matters.

i will write more later

horse where my head should be

w

]]> *Weeperblast Dead Skin Floes + Chorus of Cracking Necks http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27920278/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27920278/ Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:42:28 PDT

edit: Listen to this new Marduk: [link]

Fucking evil.

I broke out my colored pencils and made a portrait of Katie Samson. And I finished Dead Skin Floes. So go read it.

I am on my throne and no one
But no one
Can touch me
Spitting in my froth
And writhing in my horror
As no man had so sent his son
To judge, to reign over, to siege against
MY KINGDOM of dead animals amassing
To no finity, creatures and their carcasses to become mine own
Forever and ever
May blood wash this world and make it clean
Forever and ever
Amen.

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Have I Become God? http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27838025/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27838025/ Sun, 18 Oct 2009 14:57:53 PDT

No...of course not. That's a silly question. My belief in god has always remained the same, resonant 'No', but I've discovered something greater than god. I have found something more powerful and interesting, something more relevant and promising than any god could ever hope to offer me.

There is something in the strangeness between two bodies. Love that I have for someone else, and the love that that someone else has for me. I feel it, because I am giving and receiving it. She feels it for the same reasons. Between us, there is some amorous floating ether. That's greater than god, to me. The same feelings I have between myself and the earth, or myself and my fellow man, though they may not be feelings of love, but sometimes a deeply enriching sense of loathing, or a sense of kinship that I have with my friends. This makes me feel something incredibly powerful. Endowed beyond any measurable measure. Have I become god? No. I haven't. But I will tell you what I have done...I have found god's body, and I have eaten of his flesh.

In that way, I have become everlasting. Love, hate, spit, blood, urine.

Nothing else.

MWNL

Winslow.

]]> *Weeperblast NO SCRUPLES http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27778270/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27778270/ Thu, 15 Oct 2009 10:54:46 PDT

The world is rewritten to accommodate her. Fire and horror blasts the sperm of the planet into a thin film of ash. No negotiation with terrorists. History is subjective. I can be what I want to have been before. My blood is my petrol. There is something in her that pulls the harrow along. My beautiful gallows of old timbers stand in the forest they were built from. The hangmanÂs knot remembers herÂ and the kiss that dredges up all the collected debasement and wild perversions past and negates them to simple soil. The terrors of times past become utterly fruitless, useless compounds of dead animals, plants and minerals.

The skin comes off easily enough. I donÂt strain anymore. IÂm in this perpetual bloody freefall, and IÂve come to peace. In a step by step process, IÂve lost the things that inhibit me. No god, no Christ, no scruples. Now I am at liberty to do and act as I please, and to draw myself closer to what matters most. IÂve found a good enemy. IÂm up against a true goliath, not just as a man, but as the symbol he represents. A greater energy funneled into a greater victimhood-complex, a limp-wrist made manifest in human form.

A nuisance of a loathsome noise;
A no-gooder
A purveyor of the fleshy aesthetic;
With a greater attention to spit bilious ad lib
And bathe in euphemistic language
Than to riddle questions and doubt
Absurd answers to the lands laws
Just interested in talking and eating
Eating very much so; Eating freely, without borders
A king of no-queens, a clueless prat
An empty waste of dead potential
Father of one, husband of none

I lost my job, my car caught on fire, and I canÂt see my girlfriend, lest I get the cops called on me by her controlling, racist father. Other than that, things have been going well. I saw Dethklok and Mastodon live. I drove with my friend Maddie, two hours out to Des Moines, two hours back. Brutal. Show was amazing, though. I was caught between head-banging and laughing like a girl the whole damn time. Brendon Small is a wonderful man. Mastodon didnÂt do their song about whales, so I was disappointed, but whatever. Dethklok played intro theme, Bloodlines, Burn the Earth, Hatredkopter, Dethsupport, Murmaider, The Gears, Thunderhorse, Birthday Dethday, Go Into the Water, Awaken, Duncan Hills Coffee Jingle, Black Fire Upon Us and Fansong. It was hilarious, they had a massive screen behind them, and they played clips from the DVD. Plus, Brendon Small is an incredible guitarist. And he's a great live vocalist. And he did Skwisgaar and Pickles as well.

I know that IÂm facing impossible odds, and I donÂt care. I really donÂt care anymore. All I can say is that I know where I belong, and I am not going to let anything get in my way. Blood, threats, guns, itÂs all bullshit. Just distractions from the true, pure image. An image worth fighting for.

So hereÂs a toast, not to the blood I am going to lose, but for the greatness of love that I am going to gain.

Join me in Hell.

MWNL.

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast perverted king midas. i'm sorry, http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27685976/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27685976/ Sat, 10 Oct 2009 11:19:56 PDT

I can't ever see my girlfriend again, or her father will come over to my house. He said that he's going to pursue legal action against me. He's making these empty threats against me. He said that he'll feel free to eat lunch wherever he wants...whatever the fuck that means. What kind of arrogant prick calls his daughter jailbait?

Her mother has already begun to take away her privileges. I just wanted to bring her peace. To be nice. To love. Now it looks like I have made her life into another miserable mess. I'm like some perverted king midas.

I've got a clean fucking record. I'm not looking for pussy. I'm not looking for chicks. I'm looking for her. That's it. That's all.

For fucks sake, the moment I grasp something worth fighting for, it vanishes. I'm in a standstill.

For the girl I care so deeply about, I can't ever talk to her again. Not even once for closure. Not even one final goodbye. It's just empty space. If I strain and reach and pull, I'll only end up damaging her life further.

All in all, I'm crestfallen.

Sorry, dearest. I wish it could have worked out. I still hope it can, some day.

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Chainsaw Gutsfuck + Explosion http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27642548/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27642548/ Thu, 08 Oct 2009 16:17:01 PDT

Edit: My car caught on fire. What the fuck.

Em J said it when she was twelve, and IÂm saying it now: ÂFuck everything, IÂm going to live my life.Â Maybe IÂm not as angsty as she was, but I think the feeling persists. Fuck everything, just fuck it in general. Fuck the nonsense, the exes and all the false-metal. Fuck the skinheads, fuck the anarchists, fuck the liberals, fuck the conservatives. IÂm not curious about their ideologies; I donÂt care about the democracy. This society is broken, it wonÂt work. ThatÂs not a bad thing; it just means that I need to buy a gun soon, before things really start to fall apart. IÂm not a rebel. IÂm not a punk. Fuck punks. Fuck punk music. Seriously. Either grow a pair, or put the guitar down. Kids todayÂtheir music is a fucking disgrace. IÂm not any of this anti-establishment nonsense, thoughÂI say fuck the democracy, but I say fuck anarchists even worse, even harder, and bloodier. You want to shave your head? Get a Mohawk and dye it pink? Ok, tell me when your dad picks you up from the mall you jackass. Get in the minivan. Drink the kool aid.

Do you really think that anyone is going to listen to your protests? YouÂre not a protester until I hear gunshots. Anything other than death in the streets is just fucking noise.

IÂm comfortable here. IÂm incredibly comfortable. IÂm happy, happier than IÂve been in a long, long time. IÂve got someone and someone has got me. Hell, itÂs perfect. Nothing works, everything is shit, but what I have right here. IÂm talked to like IÂm a rapist and IÂm treated like a murderer by chumps and dumb cunts, and I couldnÂt care less. IÂm free. Holy shit. I feel so alive. So cared for, so loved. IÂve learned a lot about myself in the past few weeks. I know now that I function better under stress. I deal with pain with a certain spite that enables me to push through it quicker. A deeply seated misanthropy is what guides me.

ÂFuck politics, I just want to burn shit down.Â

ÂFuck everything, IÂm going to live my life.Â

And smear some paint on the way. Fuck their masterpieces. ItÂs not performance art until I feel the bones cracking.

Some day, IÂm gonna be in my grave, and IÂm going to be laughing. I know that nothing else matters. IÂve got these wild, intense feelings, a powerful desire to live. A new take on my heart.

Chainsaw gutsfuck. ThatÂs how itÂs going to be from here on out. Get your gun.

MWNL

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Brilliance http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27557682/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27557682/ Sat, 03 Oct 2009 11:56:04 PDT

Last night had its up and itÂs downs.

One down. One major up. The down came early, when I killed a friend. A small, masked friend. A furry friend. A raccoon ran out in front of my car. I couldnÂt stop quickly enough, and I hit it. I felt really bad. I like raccoons. They have little masks and they scamper around the forest. TheyÂre good people. I parked my car a little ways down, and I left to investigate. He was still alive. I wasnÂt going to fast when I hit him, so maybe I just winded him. Or maybe he ate some mushrooms and was tripping some serious raccoon balls. I donÂt know. I scooted him out of traffic and onto the side of the road. I didnÂt have my knife on me; otherwise, IÂd have killed him. Out of sympathy. I asked a security guard for moral guidance, and he told me to not interrupt the flow of nature any more than I already had. Give it the benefit of the doubt, maybe itÂll live, maybe not. If it does, you didnÂt kill it, and if it doesnÂt, another animal will come along for it later. So the cycle continues.

I still feel bad though. If I had hit a dog, whatever. A deer. Fuck deer, IÂd swerve out of my way to hit a fuckinÂ deer. And I would take itÂs carcass with me and IÂd fuckinÂ sleep in it. Deer are shit. But raccoons? Never hurt anyone. TheyÂre natures little crooks. Sorry little guy. Maybe youÂre bounding about in raccoon heaven with that rabbit I stepped on.

After that, I picked up Em J. We talked to my puppies. Ate ice cream. Talked. Connected. Then we put a blanket in the back of my car, and drove to the middle of nowhere in the forest, faced the glow of where the moon would be, and we sort of cuddled, looking out the sky. It was all too perfect. Lovely, quiet. Uninterrupted. I couldnÂt have asked for anything else.

The night ended brilliantly.

I went to sleep, still feeling tingly.

And then today I won tickets to see Lewis BlackÂs Stark Raving Black.

Love.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Her Hallowed Holes http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27531211/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27531211/ Thu, 01 Oct 2009 22:41:46 PDT

Hey.

Everyone, go get the new Leviathan record, Sic Luceat Lux.

I wrote P H L O G I S C A B. Read that. Tell me what you think.

I don't know how I feel. I have strong feelings, but I don't know which way they are pointing.

But that's not true. I know exactly where they are pointing, but I know that it's a dead end.

Or at least it is right now. I don't know. I get that fluttery feeling. That's never good. That nervous, giddy, happy feeling. That's just danger. Who knows what's going to happen next. Flowers? Dinners?

So I wish she didn't keep falling asleep on me.

It's unfortunate. Why sleep alone, over there, when I have blankets over here?

End.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Carrionshine http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27402168/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27402168/ Thu, 24 Sep 2009 23:40:13 PDT

Hey.

I feel weird.

I don't really know what to do with my feelings. I'm no longer afraid of myself, or how I feel for others. I don't scare me anymore. I'm just me, for all my cruelty and misguided natures. I succeed and fail. I don't care about either. I just want to do things. People laugh and point fingers, and I get that. I do. The reality persists, though, and it's that I have to live in this skin. I don't put on my face before I go out into public. This is what I am, and it is what I am going to be forever. People change, yes, but only to a certain limit.

"You can take the tiger out of the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the tiger." - Hobbes.

But that's not really what this is about. It's about emotions. Hate isn't scary. I know people hate me. I know people are now, or have been, afraid of me. I know there are kids on myspace who want to kick my ass for some damn reason. And, no, I'm not talking about you. Your music sucks, by the way. You can't say that you listen to metal, when your suicide silence shit is as heavy as you go. Fucking kids these days. What's the most intense thing you've seen at a metal show, Suicide Silence? "Well, this chick showed us her tits once."

Ok, Gorgoroth, what's the most intense thing you've seen at a metal show? "Well, there was that time when we did Black Mass Krakow and we killed 120 goats and cut their heads off and put them on spikes on stage."

Yeah, that's the difference between our music. Job for a Cowboy can flush themselves down the social toilet for all I care. And Atreyu. And every band except Slayer that's at hot topic. You all suck and I hate you.

Shit, I digress even further. I'm having a hard time here. I don't know why. I've said it so many times before. Emotions should come easy for me. Hate isn't scary. Fear isn't even scary. Love is scary, because it's constructive destruction. It's both ends of the ball peen. It drives nails, it removes nails. I just want to get closer. I just want to know her closer. I don't want all the other bullshit that goes along with the names, I don't want the drama, I just want the silence and the warmth. I want to be alone in space, away from all other distractions, and just able to learn more about you and explore you.

You're an infinite treasure chest of beautiful knowledge and experience. I just have to know more.

Em J and Ellen Page fought for the most beautiful girl competition, and Em J won. But I still want to see Whip It.

God damn I need to get this shit in order. I'll leave you all with an excerpt from a paper I'm writing for a class.

He retrieved a butterfly knife from his back pocket and slid it along the belly of the animal, bisecting it cleanly. Its viscera effervesced, the accumulated cultures of bile and maggots spilling forth like a deluge of liquid velvet, struck with a pallid yellow color. SteveÂs face read no emotion. Not fascination, not horror, not disgust, not even boredom could weigh upon his brow. The action reflected upon him as nothing more than a thing that he had done, and is now watching the consequences of. He drove his knife into the soil until the portion tinted red was completely submerged, and withdrew to reveal a magnificently clean blade. ÂThatÂs what the Indians used to do.Â He said with a smile ÂTheyÂd clean blood off their stuff with dirt. It works really well.Â

love and all the rest,

winslow.

]]> *Weeperblast Kimmon + Puppies + Puppycount http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27297302/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27297302/ Mon, 21 Sep 2009 07:28:40 PDT

Edit: Nine puppies. Four boys, five girls.

Edit: My dog is giving birth. Like, right now. Oh boy oh boy.

Hello.

I spent some time with my friend Kimmon recently. I hadn't seen her in a long time, so it was good to catch up. It's always so refreshing to be with someone who is on the same level as you. Cool. Level headed. Not interested in messing their lives up with drugs or sexing up some young floozy.

Firefox didn't accept Kimmon's name as a word, but they're totally fine with the word floozy.

I like that.

Well, Kimmon and I talked for quite some time. We wandered around the foresty parts of her land, talked to some chickens and played with the cat. Ate some hummus. It was a lovely summer day, and I am glad I spent it with her.

I also spent some time with Audra and Matt last night. I just kind of showed up at their house when I was out driving around. Audra bought zombie high-heels. She's another friend of mine that is really cool-headed. Not driven into madness by her emotions, but not numbed either. She's receptive to her world. She notices when people go missing, but it doesn't break her.

And I ran into my ex-girlfriends parents the other day. Well, her mother and her mothers boyfriend. It was pretty funny. She never liked me when I was first around, and now she wishes I had never vanished. She's an incredibly honest woman, almost to a fault. She holds nothing back. I guess that has rubbed off on her daughters in it's own way.

And thank god I don't drink. I don't need another hurdle to crash into. And I don't get why boys think they're cool if they talk about all the chicks they've fucked, when the world knows that they haven't. It's just setting yourself up for failure. Get off myspace, stop talking about pussy like it's fair-trade coffee.

Love you all

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Hello Bucketbots. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27201066/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27201066/ Sun, 13 Sep 2009 22:51:41 PDT

Hello there.

I just got home from seeing Buckethead for the third time, and this time I brought my Canon XSi.

The photographs came out incredibly well. Truly unbelievable. This camera blows me away. Not only does this camera rule, but Buckethead put on his best performance yet. He rocked the place to rubble. I was amazed. He's really a non-stop performer, and a really cool dude at that. There is a little kid, maybe twelve years old that I've seen at two of his shows now. I think Buckethead has begun to expect him to show up and be at the front of the stage, because he handed him a DVD of some weird western sci-fi movie with a post-it note that read:

"Here is a little piece of the slug...I hope you like it!"

Followed by a rudimentary drawing of buckethead.

If you got my card at the show, and you ended up here before I had time to upload the new pictures, do not avail: I will upload soon. I just need sleep now. I have school in a few hours.

While you wait, feel free to lurk my gallery, as I have two other Buckethead shows documented, and Meshuggah is in there too. Plus all my other photography. Have fun and tell me what you think.

"The Embalmer"

Love & chickens.

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Rain http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27161252/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27161252/ Fri, 11 Sep 2009 23:49:08 PDT

Why are you out there, alone
Under the rain?
Wouldn't you rather be here
With me?
In a dry, warm home?
The rain is a bit cold
And I could hold you tight
I just want to make sure
That you know what you're doing

I miss you.

I love you all.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Grapegiver. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27065384/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27065384/ Mon, 07 Sep 2009 00:40:43 PDT

"I walk around the zoo and I have a clipboard. It's got pictures of the animals and it says "Grape yes, grape no". I go up to the animals and say "You want grape?" "no?" "ok."

check."

"Hey fish. You want grape?"-Matt Danner

He's a friend who happens to be a lion.

I am getting pretty good at driving with my eyes closed.

Listen to Lustmord.

W

]]> *Weeperblast Incipit Insipid http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27022406/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/27022406/ Fri, 04 Sep 2009 19:34:20 PDT

What does it?
She's like Freddie Fellini in 8 and a half
Calling the slut when she's in a seminal bath
I'm not the ignorance, a skinflutist or plagiarist
But it's become clear that us two just cannot coexist
So spare me your calls, by the ghosts that you're phoning
Because I'm not interested in the boys that you happen to be boning
I'm fine with what I've got, thanks, and that's about it
So enough is enough with your infantile shit.

As for the record...My current rendezvous with love is no more. Tis sad, but for the times we had shared, I am honored to keep her memories. Great fun while it lasted.

I'm not bitter. People change, and Sydney is people. I still love her to bits, but maybe we aren't meant for each other. Or at least not right now. Who knows?

If you do, don't tell me. I like the surprise.

LISTEN TO LEVIATHAN.

Love you all.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Troth of Mine Soil http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26904461/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26904461/ Sat, 29 Aug 2009 21:24:56 PDT

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I made a new friend today. I'm inspired. I wrote a new poem.

I'm still working on Laminate Dogshit.

It isn't really coming together right.

But it will.

This is my most recent writing: Troth of Mine Soil

And the void relapses at some infinite point
Obscured, emptied, unleashed
Where definitions lie buried
In worded graveyards

Mine waif fingers still quake
Through the troth of mine soil
Filth as collected through eons
Entering eyes and on the tongue
Murmuring wild perversities
As the moonlight dawns
Against empty skin
Clad in clothing spun
By bitter fabrics
Two drachm of golden urine
Hang down my neck
A rambler of an uninterested gap
Flesh puffÂd with boredomÂs swole

A tired essay of pathetic sorts
Written as a chronic resort
To aid the foul clemency

So invested in mine antipathy
Abject and utterly obedient
To the more diabolical ebb
Desexualized and castrated
To hail the more noisome
And exalt nothingness

Misambulated and knives ready
To carve another crooked path
Through another quaint virgin
To salt another womb and
Add chaos to the void

Love you all.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Inglourious Basterds & Short Hair Winslow [rev http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26785174/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26785174/ Tue, 25 Aug 2009 13:23:51 PDT

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Revised for more goodness:

I got my drivers license today. passed the test on my first try. what.

My awesome girlfriend Sydney has a wonderful talent: she can put on a pair of my pants while laying on her back, using only her feet. It's pretty incredible to watch her work. Yeah, it's not like she can solve a Rubik's cube with her eyeballs, but I still think it is so much great.

I bought a PS2 Slim today. 35 dollars. Now I can play God of War and Silent Hill 2. Life is good.

And finally, shit yes, finally. Ghostphone and her greasy little fingers will stop calling me in the dead of night. I can get some sleep.

We had a good time, Ghostphone. For a while, I didn't know you were an ex-girlfriend. Now that I do, I kind of wish I had never met you.

I'm gonna have rape for dinner.

Love you all

now get back to work.

Holy living fuck, Inglourious Basterds just might be the best movie I have ever seen. Seriously, go see it.

In other news, I cut my hair. Not too much. I don't know how I feel about it. I don't know why I cut it. I kinda miss having longer hair. I suppose it will grow back, but I think it's time we review some of my older photos. Sit down, let's walk through the valley of my hair.

Yes, I am going to take you on a trip through my hair and shots that I like. Siddown.

FUNERAL was one of my earliest and most wild photoshoots. I remember only bits and pieces of the day that I took these pictures, because I was so blinded by rage and emotional angst. Still, these are some of my favorite shots I've ever taken.

These were some rainy-day shots from ages past. One of them has a comment to the effect of "Could anyone look any more perfect?". I still remember that line whenever I'm feeling uninspired.

This was right after my second struggle with weightloss.

GHOST is still one of my favorites. The makeup and sheer bizarre nature of the photo is so much fun for me, even so many years later.

"If there was a purpose for peace, we would be a generally peaceful people."

http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26689887/ Wed, 19 Aug 2009 10:31:58 PDT

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Hey there.

Hopefully we have all had moments like these in our lives...but we only hear of the inverse scenario, which is where you fall on your face in front of the hot girl, you crap your pants on stage, you fall into a warehouse of snakes. Awful events, embarrassing events. I'm not interested in those. I want to hear about the time that things came together just right and somehow you ended up looking totally awesome.

I've got a few different stories, and they all come from my job. I'm a baker/prepcook/dishwasher combo and I do stupid cleaning chores on the side. On sundays, I make waffles.

Sie sind so hell und so flaumig.

A year ago, my boss, a clever asshole who has made it more than obvious that he thinks I'm a two-bit punk, was smoking a cigarette on the patio[or rather the former patio, which was on a raised block of concrete, putting him about three fight higher than me.]. I was just getting done from washing the air-conditioners on our roof, and I was pulling the hose down. There were two relatively nice cars parked on both sides of me. My boss looked at me and said "You know that if that hose hits one of these cars, you won't be seeing another paycheck from here." I gave the hose one final yank and began to say "You should know I don't work here for the money..." and without looking, I managed to catch the end of the hose perfectly, in mid fall. "I'm just here to wipe the smile off your face."

I was a whole hell of a lot cockier back then.

The other two events are more impressive, though. I was washing dishes once and I saw from the corner of my eye, a large plate that was on the very brink of falling off the table. Without thinking, I full-force slapped the plate on it's unbalanced side and caught it in mid air. Another moment of great timing.

Lastly, I was making a large batch of herb butter, a lovely cream sauce we use for some of our salads and pastas. The first part is to put twenty four pounds of butter [we use the one pound blocks] and begin whipping them in a large mixing bowl. Sometimes the machine will get out of balance, or the butter wasn't evenly placed in the bowl, and sometimes it will rocket out at pretty reasonable speeds. I was making the butter with a coworker and a large chunk of butter came caroming towards me and in a fit of catlike reflexes I slapped the butter back into the bowl and told it to "Get back in there!"

I am not a coordinated man. I guess that's what makes these little events special.

Ok, I've got another one, and this one really defined my childhood in violent terms.

I was the sole unbaptized student at my catholic grade school. We had a large multi-purpose room in our basement that we used for an after school kid-watching facility and sometimes we had big meetings in there. Every Wednesday, I would be selected with a few friends to set up 150 chairs for the PTA meeting. I want to say it was 180x80 feet. We were the most undisciplined kids you could find. We were jackasses, and now we had an hour of unsupervised freedom? That's obscene.

So we started a bit of a fight club. It was me, Joe, Stefan, Preston and sometimes Tony. Eighth graders. There were two moments that fighting with these kids took to another, more ethereal level of awesomeness.

The first time is when Preston, who was a total slimy douche, the kind of kid who was trying to get sex from my romantic and beautiful pseudo-girlfriend, was setting up the chairs with us. He started throwing shit at me, toys that kids had left behind, shoes, whatever. I picked up a chair, and broke it over his head, knocking him out cold. I was amazed by my own power, but I didn't feel bad for doing it. This kid was in eighth grade. He had no reason to try to pick up another girl for his 15 seconds of awkward sex.

Which reminds me that one of the biggest assholes from that grade lost his virginity with his cousin in a barn.

The other time was when the chairmen and I were going to be playing some extra-retardo-dodgeball by turning off all the lights in the room, leaving me at bat, the only one in the hazy glow of the illuminated EXIT light. The batters arsenal was made up of the snowboots that kids had forgotten, and I was bolting them out into the darkness. Someone turned the lights on just in time for me to throw the final boot like a rubber RPG. It connected with Jesse's head with such a glorious force that it knocked him off his feet, and he, I shit you not... ]]> *Weeperblast Sperm,Blood&Hair. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26580727/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26580727/ Fri, 14 Aug 2009 00:09:22 PDT

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I put my blood goggles on. I'm glad the little game is over. Old relations should die and stay dead... If I have learned my lesson today, it will be that tomorrow, the shit that I had today, is about as useful to me as it is today as it was yesterday. In other words, fuck it, I'm doing fine without being extra ignored.

I'm like Poland in 2004. Not really there, doesn't really care, and forgotten about, but I'm off doing my own thing. Making sausages or something.

I don't know. All drugs and no not drugs makes Jack a dull boy.

Speaking of Jack, these new photographs include a few lines from the movie Fight Club. I didn't write them, they're not mine, I haven't seen the movie, they were just on the wall. Whatever.

I don't need to give you people excuses, do I?

Dirty sperms all over the place now. Somes in little baggies.

School starts up for all the young onions again. I'm going back to high school to talk to old teachers and kick a few scenesters in the teeth. If your hair goes swish, watch out, because I might just jack your face in. And lord knows, you'd deserve it.

Pierce the Veil is a terrible band.
Tool is a terrible band.
Greenday is a terrible band.
Fallout Boy is a terrible band.

Don't forget to go into my scraps for an extra-adorable picture of Chessna. [link] is her site. Go to it and send her your semen samples.

I talk about semen a lot, but a lot of my life has to do with it, so it's ok.

It's just a business expense now. I but cow sperm in bulk. I use it to thicken soups at work.

Cows are bigger than people, and people have tiny little sperm. Cows have big ol' grape sized sperm. Each time they go off, only like 20-30 of the wriggling little shits get out, and even fewer end up in the lady cow.

Just thought you might want some science to go with your beer.

And keep god off my website. I don't need that filth all over this place. I try to keep it clean.

Ain't that right, you fuckers?

Thought so.

MWNL

Love you all

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Jimmy McCullough, You're a Great Man. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26548376/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26548376/ Wed, 12 Aug 2009 12:55:39 PDT

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Rat's off to you all.

First things first: Bioshock 2 needs to be released soon. I'm waiting. Mr. Bubbles is waiting.

Secondly, [link] This awesome nig sent me my portrait, and I got it in the mail today.

I just need to find a place to hang it up. I don't want to put nails in my nice clean wall...but I might have to.

Go to Jimmy's site and favorite his things and send him money and photographs of yourself in compromising positions.

And I am happy because my girlfriend:

-Sings and dances in the shower.
-Still pushes down all the buttons on the lids of her fountain drinks.
-Communicates her concerns, she doesn't let them stew inside her and unleash them all at once.

And I am going to leave you kids now. I am going to lay my head down on the green grass.

I love you all,

MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast End http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26491462/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26491462/ Sun, 09 Aug 2009 19:44:59 PDT

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I'm in a new place now because I know that it doesn't matter what I say or what I do. My past is my past. I'm alone with my creations, which is what I have been begging for for so many years. I'm not about to say that my sacrifices have been in vain, but I am a bit surprised at my sudden change of environment.

I always thought that my fight for happiness would end in a great dramatic conclusion, like how it had in the past, with a bomb threat or some tremendous gunfight.

It didn't. It was just a few tersely worded texts.

It doesn't matter how it ended, but it was nice while it lasted.

I hope it all comes together in the end, though.

All I could hope for, all I am asking. Not now, but some time.

"Oh, Cydonia...
Is it cold out there
in the fields of our memories?"

- Sunn O))) - Hunting And Gathering {Cydonia}

Love you all,

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Doubt & Sluts Who Aren't http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26451744/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26451744/ Fri, 07 Aug 2009 22:39:54 PDT

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Even though the world celebrates your sexuality. Even though your intimacy is posted on the internet. I don't think you're a slut. I still offer my love.

Take it or leave it. It doesn't matter anymore.

I doubt my place in her life.
I drug her into hell, but not in revenge. Not even intentionally.

But maybe it's time her pain levels the playing field...and when there is fire on the field? Play ball.

And while you're fighting your demons, I'll be sweating off the pounds in slick gyrations.

I love you all,

MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast welcome back http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26392212/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26392212/ Tue, 04 Aug 2009 23:29:43 PDT

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"I love you..."
"I love you too..."

and in that instant, nothing else matters.

Clarity.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast drugs. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26384833/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26384833/ Tue, 04 Aug 2009 16:22:40 PDT

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I fall asleep in love and wake up in love
and our arms are wrapped around and around
tightening the bind we share
squeezing out my lies, my venom
not cleaning it up, but diluting it

my utmost virulence on display. i'm standing between two worlds now
and
in incredible pain. i know one world and love it for what it offered me, but i know that it is perverted and screwn with all it's nails already hammered down...and hammers keep on hammering going boom boom boom. i know that it doesn't want me. another world to chalk up in the dust for not needing another new me.

can i blame them?

and the other world...i'm afraid to show my true face. i'm ugly underneath my math and bones.

when my skin and mask falls off, the ones i love run away. i dont want to be a monster anymore. i don't want to scare.

i haven't taken my medication. they are black labeled. i don't know what is happening to me. black label means that it makes my system messed up and now i can't think straight. i feel like death is finally ready for me, after so many years that I was waiting on him with such impatience. I feel like i could be poured into a bowl and mixed around.

no medication no thinking no nothing.

i never really looked at suicide like it was something that i set out to achieve, but more like i am at the restaraunt and it was served to me, and even though i ordered something else, i'm not going to let it go to waste.

i need help, but asking for it will show who i really am...and the one who knows me more than anything else won't fix this fucking mess.

and i can't blame her. pobodys nerfect.

and toki wartooth i want to marry you.

i love you all. and i know exactly how much that is worth.

goodbye dead old world. hello dead new world. again and again.

and so forth.

or perhaps i'm just as wrong as i have always been. maybe it's just the drugs... or the lack thereof. just as dumb as before, but older now.

what the fuck is wrong with me.

mwnl

w

]]> *Weeperblast Virgin Urinal http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26244341/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26244341/ Tue, 28 Jul 2009 22:51:11 PDT

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[link]

I hate to be so high school, but Architecture in Helsinki's song Hold Music is pretty much my life story right now.

Synchronous
Her dead flesh
In leaving the room
She lost something
But, to her, itÂs something
Someone can simply replace
Or so I have been told
By people
Who look
Quite a bit like me

Her story becomes
As simple as it could get:
Cover up, deny, ignore.

I know the story, because I helped her write it.
And she helped me overcome it.
But, much to my horror,
It has returned.
And with it
I retreat.

In hiding, nothing lasts
Secrets escape no matter what
The scent is strong
The clock is set
This cannot last

And I fear the repercussions of talkingÂ
I am like a wrecking ball of weeping skin
Unconsciously caroming through my old pillars
Undoing progress, writing harm in place of oases.
And I feel greedy whenever I try to make myself comfortable or happy

I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling like I shouldnÂt be happy, because what makes me happy is what tears other happy people down. I never meant to be like this, but this is what I am.

IÂm a freak. An unintentional sadist.

I donÂt like being hidden
I donÂt like being a threat
I donÂt like being a secret
I donÂt like being in passing
I donÂt like being alone
I donÂt like being hurt
I donÂt like making people lie
But I like you
So for you
This
I will do.

I am not compromising my values. I am proving them.

Winslow.

]]> *Weeperblast My Death & Other Beautiful Things http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26160168/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26160168/ Fri, 24 Jul 2009 21:35:06 PDT

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hello.

I saw that Harry Potter movie. Kinda lame. No real story to it. I mean, yeah, it was there, the cabinet, the apple and the birds and Draco being all emo and shit, but honestly, it was just a bunch of good looking vignettes. Emma Watson and that Evanna Lynch girl are pretty gosh darn cute.

I'm gettin' ready to die pretty soon here, just cleaning up some stuff before I go, really, and I decided to make a list of things I want to do before death. So, without further ado:

Things to do before death

-See the insides of a human being with my own eyes, be it through witnessing an autopsy, or watching a surgery.

-Visit Chernobyl

-Get a car

-Get an apartment

-Finish at least one of Ann RandÂs books

-Read American Lion

-Read DanteÂs Inferno

-Watch at least five of the films that inspired Silent Hill

-Read at least three of the books that inspired Silent Hill

-Meet Lewis Black

-Read all the books on my bookshelf

-Learn to play chess {better}

-Finish Dead Animal Kingdom

-Find out what black people are talking about when they say ÂSwaggaÂ.

-Put on a viewing party for Begotten, or some other good film that doesnÂt get the respect it deserves.

-Acquire a human skull.

-Get at least a degree in fine arts.

-Become learned.

-Learn more scattalk.

-Revenge.

-Get that damn owl out of my freezer.

-Buy me a gun [Dragunov, a 1911 Mauser, and/or an AK-47]

-Get a metal detector, or at least rent one for a day.

-Have a henchman.

-Find out what the hell happened when I left Central.

-Buy that giraffe skull.

-Just plain old ruin someones day.

-Put out an album under 'Smogma'

-Become nationally known for my photography

-Be able to take a few photographs every day, without getting boring.

-More bloody revenge.

I had better get to work...because with the way things are shaping up, I might not have long before one of you fuckers up and kills me. Don't be too nervous now, we all have to die sometime. Come on up. No need to be shy.

From Hell with love,

1986,

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Friends http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26094723/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/26094723/ Wed, 22 Jul 2009 13:31:24 PDT

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New: I just signed up for some college classes. Turns out I'm going to be an archeologist. Who knew? I guess since I might be getting a job studying Chernobyl, they consider that archeology. Weird.

Does anyone know where I can buy a pith helmet?

IÂm in a writing mood.

Somewhat lonely
But I love my friends
So IÂm not so lonely, not so much.

I miss some people from the big school house.
The hill where students kiss, learn, fail and punch.

Punch, punch, punch.

IÂm not a prophet, but I think the punching of students will keep on keepinÂ on.

ThatÂs a good thing, though.
Some people should be punched.
Some should be kicked.
Some should be eaten.
Unless theyÂre girls.
But wait, no.
Some girls should be eaten too.
If theyÂre good.
And if theyÂre mean?
DonÂt hit them.
DonÂt hit girls.
Unless they like to be hit.
Most girls like to be eaten.
But that doesnÂt mean that theyÂre sluts.

Rocks have got to get off.

Whenever I feel down or forgotten
I rest assured in the fact:
IÂve been tempered in a worse shit than this
IÂm not going to tell you stories about my scars
But IÂm going to give you scars
If your stories are about me.

1986.

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast What Fresh Hell http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25990951/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25990951/ Thu, 16 Jul 2009 17:36:23 PDT

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Well, this is most certainly strange.

I met this woman at a party. Her name is Angela Manns. She's a gardener. She seemed pretty odd right off the bat. She was very bug eyed and loud. Not like, loudmouth loud, but more like she was saying regular conversation, but more loudly.

I thought she was just another loon, and as it turns out, I was right. They found the body of her son in her home, with two months of decomposition.

She killed her son...or she knew that he was dead, and simply looked the other way.

She is wanted for murder.

[link]

What fresh hell.

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Stench [Pt. 2: Exstenchion] http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25954170/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25954170/ Wed, 15 Jul 2009 23:00:17 PDT

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New shit that you should pay attention to:

- Brad Neely is an awesome human being. He's the baby of cakes. Watch all his videos and send him money: [link]

- I fucking hate giraffes. I mean, not really. But yeah, I do. Fuckin' longhorses are packed to the gills with shitty memories, and for fucks sake, they're popping up everywhere: [link] ! I just want to live my life you bastards. Go back to Africa!

- I want to know if those beetles I found were dung beetles or not. I know they're not scarabs, because this isn't Egypt...but I've said that before, and I've been wrong. I'm not good with geographies.

- Glenn Beck goes deathmetal: [link]

- I rewrote Syphilis. It takes a lot more from the real-life symptoms of the disease.

- I almost ate an entire Chipotle burrito. Oh your god.

- In the past week, I've watched just about every talk that Kevin Smith has ever given. That man can tell a fuckin' story. You should watch them all. In chronological order. Seriously, it's a real investment in time, but it's absolutely worth it. He is a wonderful storyteller.

- If you're a young girl, if you have curly hair, or any of that cute stuff, you probably don't belong on this website. It's not your place. But since you showed some serious sack in arriving to this domain, I'll reward you. Here: [link]

Use it wisely. Now back to your previous information.

In times like these, I can always fall back on the last words of someone close to my heart...: "Por favor, seÃ±or, quiero ir. Yo no quiero morir. Por favor, desÃ¡tame."

Such a lovely sound.

I sure am glad I have a premium subscription that lets me see who has been visiting my site. And all the other cool shit that comes with it. But it's always good to see who visits.

I miss my old friends from high school. At least some of them. Some of them can very well stay in the past. I don't need HIV.

I'll be performing some new poetry at a contest for cash next Thursday. It's July 16th, 5-7 PM at Mcfosters Natural Kind Cafe, 302 S. 38th Street. But you already knew that. Tell your friends.

Ali, Sydney and Maddie are all out of town either now or soon! It sucks.

But I'm going to go do drugs and self mutilate.

I'm watching you.

Winslow.

]]> *Weeperblast Early Morning http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25845533/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25845533/ Thu, 09 Jul 2009 18:31:35 PDT

Hey there.

I wrote a new poem for Sydney. It's kinda funny. I wrote it at about 2 in the morning, so it's kind of out there. I was busy working on another one, about some other stuff, but looks like stuff changed back to how it was before, so now that stuff isn't really worth writing about. You know how things can be. Chicks are a diceroll, man.

Other than that, I'll be performing some new poetry at a contest for cash next Thursday. It's July 16th, 5-7 PM at Mcfosters Natural Kind Cafe, 302 S. 38th Street. It'll be upstairs. I need two poems, and I know I want to do Run Red, but I don't know what to do with my other one.

So be there or I'll break into your house and shit on your fucking chest while you're asleep, I swear to god. I've got enough to go around, you fuckers.

That being said, I had a good time with friends. I played some UNO. I think UNO is the reason my last relationship died. Seriously, that game ruins lives. Bitches go crazy on that UNO shit.

Anyways, Hayden is here now, so I'm going to go wheel around and pick up some bitches.

Fuck you unless I love you,

{And chances are, I do.}

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast Katie Samson is a wonderful human being. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25714760/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25714760/ Fri, 03 Jul 2009 11:50:15 PDT

I used to have a crush on this girl named Ally DeBoer, [link] She talked about me to a girl named Kati Samson [link] who I began to talk to about Ally via dA. Talking to Ally is one thing, because sheÂs such a trip in and of herself. SheÂs a dancer, a real intellectual prodigy, and, somehow, a klutz. A tremendous friend, and just a great girl through and through.

Talking to Kati is something else entirely, though, because she has really startled me in a variety of ways. SheÂs practically my polar opposite. SheÂs very light, very flowery and quaint. She looks like a girl that knows how to knit a mean scarf or a pair of warm gloves for a small animal. SheÂs incredibly shy, a tiny little lass with exquisite and curly hair, soft features and hands talented beyond anyone else I know. She has a command of color and exaggerated human proportions that leaves me in awe. IÂve added just about every single one of her pieces to my favorites. I honestly love them all, and I hope that you will come to love them too.

Let me show you through some of my favorites of hers.

Southern Belle

My only complaint for her work is that she uploads them with such small sizes, and she has such a poor quality camera or scanner or whatever she uses. It makes me want more! I want to see the detail in her portraits!

what a nice place to live

You'll begin to notice that she has quite the penchant for amputation, but somehow, she makes the characters still seem very lovely and human.

Bloodied Nose

Normally I hate this kind of work, the digitized versions of paintings, but she manages to break my bigotry.

Blackberry Juice

Up until this image, I thought of Katie as simply someone with a knack of lovely sketches and light drawings. With 'Blackberry Juice', I find that she has a great skill with color and expression. She makes me want to be one of her sketches. They're all so beautiful.

like nothing ever happened

I don't know how interested I would be in her works if it wasn't for the fact that she isn't afraid to include the bizarre in her inspirations.

so sleepy

She's so pretty! Oh god.

Daphne of the Laurels

This is one of my favorites of hers. It is so very intimate, so frank and feminine. Every detail about this female body is accurate to the age, despite it's elongated features. The exaggerated hips and the ribs that dip in near the breasts make this portrait a real masterpiece. I love it.

I remember what they're like

http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25591995/ Sat, 27 Jun 2009 17:49:57 PDT
I just got back from my trip to Lawrence, Kansas. It's a hippie college town surrounded by cows, corn and conservatives. Naturally, the town is ten times more liberal for the fact that they are surrounded in red. There are bongos, tie-dyed curtains, and a babbling froth of men with neckbeards and cute, short women. Not a lot of high-heels. Not a lot of Dane Cook fans. ItÂs a nice town.

On our way out, we listened to LustmordÂs ÂOtherÂ, and two records by Firesign Theatre. It was a trip to catch up with my dad, as I only see him once or twice a week these days. He and I have very similar senses of humor. We love the absurd, the subtle jabs at the social psyche that are put forth by Firesign Theatre. Listening to them is truly a team effort, because some jokes slip past untrained earsÂhe helped me find hidden material, and I returned the favor. We work in harmony.

The ride out there was nice. ItÂs always a pleasure to be in a car with air conditioning, and a working sound system. What more could a man ask for? ItÂs relaxing as can be. ItÂs how I imagine heaven. Chilling with my dad. Fishing, hiking, listening to music. HeÂs the kind of guy that makes me really wish there was an afterlife, because I canÂt see myself ever growing tired of hanging out with him. When we explore the woods together, I donÂt want it to ever stop.

ItÂs profound. Something IÂve never felt before. IÂm so happy to have this man in my life. HeÂs so much fun, so witty and spry. HeÂs such a trip to be around. We both have this fascination with the world that leads us to explore itÂs more convoluted ends, and we always return with a great sense of satisfaction. ItÂs not about the destination; itÂs about the experience between two points.

All my friends love my dad, too. HeÂs just a cool guy to hang around with. He made that giraffe for Caitlyn, forever ago. HeÂd pick her up on Saturday mornings so we could have breakfast together. We all did yoga together. Chessna and Steve know him, and have spent time with him. My dad got nervous waiting for us to decide what to order at Taco Bell, and he yelled:ÂTEN TACOS, TEN BURRITOS.Â Chessna told him that she is a vegetarian, and he told her ÂIt doesnÂt matter on Sundays. Vegetarians can eat tacos on Sunday.Â

She didnÂt eat any, but IÂm sure she wasnÂt aware of this carnivorous exemption for her people. HeÂs just packed full of knowledge.

We arrived in Lawrence, and despite the setting sun, the heat was still great. It was magnified by the concrete and asphalt streets, making it like a windy sauna. We stopped in a few different head shops, browsed the hippie attire and left before getting a contact high. Inside an interesting alternative-clothing store, much like Urban Outfitters, but with more toys and art books, my father bought two robots; a duck and a regular robot man. HeÂs one for robots. I still have one of his mechano-men in my room somewhere. I should find it.

He bought me a cool shirt, too. IÂm slowly filtering in cool shirts into my regular legion of boring white guy shirts. Boring white guy shirts are the only shirts my dad wears. He wears wolf shirts non-ironically.

That takes a special kind of person. He is that kind of person.

We ate at Jimmy Johns, and then headed for a motel. We found the first one, it was called the Jayhawk, and my dad assured me of itÂs quality: ÂItÂs gotta be good. Look, theyÂve got a big neon jayhawk. ItÂll be fine.Â

Needless to say, it was far from fine. Never trust motels that have neon mascots.

It was stygian. This is the only time in my life that I could use this word without being poetic. It was truly stygian. Abysmal. The moment I entered this beige/salmon tomb, I began to feel itchy. Not like a satisfying itch, not some quick annoyance on the skin level. This was a deeply seated issue that was far beyond the base of my dermis. Mosquitoes were nothing to this sensation, though a few stragglers tried to bite me as I sat on the edge of the bed.

There was one light in the room. It was a ceiling light. It was just bright enough to hurt your eyes, but not bright enough to read by. The paint was chipping on the walls. The carpet was filthy. The remote to the television was duct-taped shut. There were two smoke detectors, one with its batteries and covering missing.

We got the money back, and go the hell out of there. We found a motel six, and called it home for the night. I intended to read a bit of Atlas Shrugged, an epic by Ayn Rand. I got it about a year ago, and although itÂs an excellent book, I have yet to finish it. Last night didnÂt see me make any more progress. I watched a bit of Conan OÂBrien, a bit of Metalocalypse and some Venture Bros. with my dad. Our senses of humor unite perfectly to form Metalocalypse and Venture Bros.... ]]> *Weeperblast S Y P H I L I S [STAGE 2] http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25517205/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25517205/ Wed, 24 Jun 2009 22:07:45 PDT

An amazing friend of mine did a rerendition of Whisper Decapitation in his own medium.

Take a look at that. Holy shit.

Pretty much awesome, right there.

I talked to my brother a lot today, after we watched the movie. Talked about life and what I'm going to do with myself. What am I going to do for a living? Do I go to school? Where, for what? For how long?

Where do I get the money? Do I live with my mom?

Where am I?

Do people even want a photojournalist like me?

I don't know. I really don't, and it's driving me insane. I need to have something solid in my life. Something that I can wake up to and go: YES. This is me, this is what I do, this is what I want, and this is how I am going to get it.

And I wish I could say that that thing is sydney...but, no matter how much I love her, I can't find inner peace through someone else. That's just not how it works.

No one should be responsible for the happiness of another person.

I wish I had that solidness. Straight up stability. I just don't know what I want to do with my life, and it makes me feel like I am going crazy.

I mean, look at everyone else. All my friends seem to know what they want to do.

Matt is going to work building stages, and his girlfriend is an actress. Steve is painting and drawing, playing guitar. Maddie is going off to photo studies in California.

IÂm not.

I don't know what I want to do. I know IÂm still young. IÂm eighteen. These are the deciding years. I just donÂt want to be someone who had his chance. IÂve already been there. IÂve already been dicked over enough in my life. In my own doing, of course. My efforts, through so much, have been counter productive. One step forwards, two steps backÂbut itÂs never, ever so simple. There are no absolutes. No one is good or evil. Nothing works towards one single, perfect end.

One step right, two steps in the door. The door at her house, or the door at college. The door at an ex girlfriends house. The door that leads me back into the kitchen. I donÂt know what door I want to open up. This is the time that I need to decideÂand I donÂt know where to start.

Matters only grow worseÂthough, maybe not worse, in this world of no absolutes, I suppose matters grow more complicated, and closer to a threshold that could tip me into my calling in life.

I was a fan of Marilyn Manson for a great deal of timeÂand I still am. I guess. I was a member on his forums, Mansonusa.com. I was there for, fuck, four years probably. It was my second home, and I had plenty of friends there. A real sense of community.

Then Manson, all butthurt over his negative concert reviews and dwindling social status, flips out, does a bunch of legal shit IÂm not at liberty to tell you, and now the entire site is gone. Ten thousand members, eight years of work, all gone. It wasn't even his work. It was all fan-based. We made him who he is. If we weren't fans, he'd be painting fucking houses in the valley with Nancy.

For fucks sake. What a bunch of shit. Now I lost a community of people that I really cared about. It sucks. This is something I would ask them. Now that they are no longer formed in a group, I guess I am asking youÂeven though, I honestly donÂt think that anyone can help me other than myself. This is my path in life, and itÂs got to be personal. I donÂt want someone to tell me what I need to go to school forÂbut maybe enlighten me on what going to school at the college level is like for someone who doesnÂt know what he wants to do.

Love you all. And thank you for your overwhelmingly positive response to my most recent photographs, under the project called SYPHILIS.

MWNL.

Winslow Dumaine

]]> *Weeperblast London. My Dad. Soap. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25458366/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25458366/ Sun, 21 Jun 2009 17:38:11 PDT
I decided that, for fathers day, I would do a feature on my father. He makes these strange little clay creations and paints them. Little animals, I guess. They're pretty far out. He's made quite a few for me, and one for an ex girlfriend of mine. She likes giraffes, so he made her one...but it looked like the giraffe had been in an accident. With a machine that makes giraffes have one gigantic foot and no horns.

Why the hell do giraffes have horns anyways? It's almost like they could be plugged in. Like their neck is one long cord. When you plug a giraffe in, do they kick their legs? Is that their purpose? Like a kicking massage device.

Finally, soap. I had an idea for an invention, inspired by something I saw at work. We have a hand-soap emitting little box. You push the button, soap comes out, theoretically. The difference is that ours had some sort of birth defect, causing it's soapy sac to bulge out of a hole in the front of the stainless steel box. This prohibits the button from functioning as it was intended. However, if soap is needed, one can simply rub the exposed blue nipple for a rich lather.

I think that this should be the norm. I don't like bars of soap, nor do I like buttons. However, if there were little nipples or, like some genetically modified turtle that would roam the bathroom that I could rub for soap, I'd wash my hands a whole lot more.

I guess that's all for now.

Love.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast The Mission, the Missive, The Misses http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25361142/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25361142/ Tue, 16 Jun 2009 20:33:03 PDT
This not only helped stop people from becoming witches, but it showed people the elusive and very lovely shade of purple and maroon found in the stippling of blood bruises.

Everything has it's purpose and it's place. Hanging people are pretty things to me. Like hairy little lilies. How Edgar Allen poetic.

Ok. Let me explain my mission to you before you forget.

I'm here for three things: To love, to be in love, and to destroy. To celebrate her, to celebrate us, and to stick our collective penknives down the collective phalli of the world.

Love in us to kill everyone else. To rip, tear and consume the flesh of this world...but to do so in a manner that leaves the planet half-exsanguinated, half alive to see me shit it's own flesh out of my body's rancid little oven. Keep them alive long enough so that they can see their reflection on the broken glass inside my fleshy excrement.

And then we will use the remaining flesh and bones of this world to decorate our bedroom.

"I love your new curtains, Mister Winslow"

"Eyelids. With a spinal column used for the drawstring."

"...oh...god...and the carpeting?"

"Taints. Just taints held together with sweat. And a rich cum shellac."

Anyways. I got that new camera in the mail, so you can see even more details in my fucking face. Oh god. It's a Canon Rebel Xsi. It's a fucking beast. It's the same one that my good friend Maddie uses. She'll have to teach me how to use the damn thing.

Me and my husband.

I'm going to England. I'm repeating this because it deserves repeating. I'm going to put the gland back in England.

Finally, if anyone wants to see me read some poetry, I'll be showing up at McFosters on Thursday at five PM for the open mic. I plan to read American Braineater and Into the Furrows. If you have any questions, just ask.

The only reason I painted the town red was because I was interested in the paintfire thereafter.

MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Tentacles & Testicles. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25312698/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25312698/ Sun, 14 Jun 2009 16:08:12 PDT out of the sores themselves?

Both are quite disconcerting, but I need to prioritize! Valtrex or Enzyte? Email me if you have any cheap offers.

To be honest, all the offers I've ever gotten in my email have been pretty cheap.

I wrote a poem for my friend Matt. He's a good guy. I already told you about his beard. I don't know what else you really need to know.

I hate all of you,

[secretly.]

W.

]]> *Weeperblast I LOVE REDWORM. I SERVE REDWORM. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25208834/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25208834/ Tue, 09 Jun 2009 00:42:47 PDT
I've decided that I'm not going to throw my money at my problems. I'm not going to buy parts and build my frankenstein. I'm going to throw my money at the aeroplanes and buy myself a ticket to england...to follow the one I love. She's flying out tomorrow at six at night, but I will be busy doing knifework in my place of employment. So fuck it all, I'm buying the ticket, and I'm flying out there.

I think I bought a camera too. I'll have to wake up before I can tell you that. Since I already told you that...you need to go to sleep after you read this.

And I did some work with Chessna. We serve redworm. We need redworm so we can grow big and strong. I took photos of old things for redworm. i hope i make redworm happy.

i love redworm.

i love redworm and i serve redworm.

love you all.

w.

]]> *Weeperblast we love redworm loves us. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25053197/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/25053197/ Sun, 31 May 2009 14:35:26 PDT
I'm working on a new poem for my friend Matt. He's a good man. He has a beard and plays the guitar. He sits in gum and is dating another friend of mine. Audra. She's a good girl. She doesn't have a beard. Audra is a friend of an old friend of mine, too. Caitlyn. Not a friend anymore, at least not to me. I don't know about her , but I wish her well. I wish her happiness and contentment...but not without questions. I wonder where the sudden vindictive nature came from. I wonder about the notes and the friends and all sorts of little questions. I'll never get these answers, but I wouldn't be human if I didn't wonder.

I don't care if I am writing about personal issues in the internet. At least I'm not unfolding all our notes and throwing them in the air on the last day of school. Seems a little catty, doesn't it? A personal attack.

As if Sydney was wrong to be cheated on. Like it was her mistake. This isn't Syria.

All things considered...I wish these three people well. Happiness and contentment. All the goodness that comes from life, but not without the challenges and obstacles. Man needs something to overcome. A cross to carry.

Thoughts.

I have some new pictures coming up. They're of me and Sydney. We eat the redworm and let it change us into something else.

I'm buying a new camera soon. Then I'll do a feature on my father. He does little sculptures.

I love you all...and I fall apart into your hands. A cat sleeping in a sunbeam...I love you.

Even you. Even the little creampuff.

"And like hot sands slashing
Across the desertsÂ face
The lies whirl about the earth"

-Mayhem -"Great Work of Ages"

Engineering Human Vomit,

Winslow Dumaine

]]> *Weeperblast Glitter and Fuck You http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24898107/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24898107/ Fri, 22 May 2009 21:17:15 PDT
IÂm done wasting my time. IÂm going to Prague again. IÂm going to Chernobyl alone. IÂm writing music, taking pictures and putting animals in jars. IÂm doing things. Exchanging money for culture.

If you gave a shit about me, youÂd have spoken up when you had your chance. YouÂre too distracted and good riddance to your bad rubbish. You obviously didnÂt care, so IÂm cutting my losses. IÂm keeping my friends close, and IÂm giving my former companions the boot. Here is a drink to my new life outside of the pubescent playground of high school.

Cheers, Maddie. Matt. Steve. Jess. Chessna. Audra. Kati. Sydney. Ali. Ally. The rest of you all, and to all a good night.

MWNL.

W

]]> *Weeperblast itsasecret http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24831508/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24831508/ Mon, 18 May 2009 22:20:16 PDT
So two days ago, I graduated from high school. Woo, yeah, all that good stuff. My notoriously cheap dad gave me five hundred dollars, which blew my fucking mind. This is a guy who made his own cross country skis by taking a pair of old, blown out skis and grabbing a golf club and a pool cue for his guiding poles. My brother bought me a bunch of good black metal, and some books. All sorts of good shit. Well, but for one thing. My nieces.

They made me cards, and yeah, usually little six year olds don't make a lot of sense, but what the hell:

Photobucket

Photobucket

She said that I have yellow bells for shoulders.

What.

And yes, that is a mermaid on the front of the envelope. And if you look closely, it reads 'You gota rule the underworld'

Photobucket

Photobucket

Somehow the heart and the star don't really liberate this picture from the total weirdness of floating brown clouds.

Photobucket

Photobucket

The creepy bug is in you?

What the fuck?

And I have decided that I want to name my child Attila Itsasecret Dumaine. I think that's the perfect name.

"What's your middle name?"

"Itsasecret"

"Don't be a dick. Answer the question."

"Itsasecret"

"We're no longer friends."

Ah ha ha ha. That's funny to me.

Love to you all but you especially,

W[ar]

]]> *Weeperblast so much more http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24746647/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24746647/ Wed, 13 May 2009 23:02:25 PDT
so much more to say about her than her than her than her ad infinitum. I don't need to compare chassis'.

one quarter japanese, one quarter german, two quarters mexican. who knew that these were the chemicals needed to manufacture awe and loveliness?

w.

]]> *Weeperblast last day of highschool http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24621209/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24621209/ Wed, 06 May 2009 15:55:55 PDT
So today is the last day of the four good-shitty years of my life. It all goes down today, and that's pretty fucking strange. I've been coming to school for the past thirteen years. Waking up at 6 every morning, going to an institution, every damn day sans summer months. IÂll finally be able to get a few hours of sleep.

I mean, I'm going to continue schooling and all that bullshit. Get my degree. Schooling isn't over for me, but the rigorous every-damn-day shit is definitely over. It's kinda bittersweet. I wont' miss 98 percent of these fuckers, but the final 2 percent that I will, man, I'm going to miss them a lot. Caitlyn, the girl I write so much about, is a junior, and I don't know if I'll ever see her after I graduate. ThatÂs stressful enough. Maddie and I won't be able to see each other every day, but you can be sure as shit that weÂre going to keep in touch. Hey, thatÂs what love does. Matt and his girlfriend Audra, Steve and Jess, Ally, damn near most of my friends and favorite teachers are all about to be thrust into a whole new awkward world of friendship that isn't supplemented by being able to see one another every day. IÂll finally have to man-up if I want to keep them in my life. I want them to be a part of my life, so I will. Caitlyn is just another story entirely. I guess I'll just keep it at that. Fuckin' tightrope, I tell you.

No more busywork. No more having to do regimented book reports. No more eating lunch at ten fucking thirty in the morning. No more assignments with no purpose and no clear end. No more using computers with insane blockers, no more having to run my entire projects on 24 megs of RAM. No more fucking floppy disks.

No more pledges of allegiance.

But then again, I'll still be missing out on quite a bit of good stuff. The freedom in constraint that was afforded by high school, where youÂre given a topic to write on, and it quickly becomes a challenge to stretch the given topic to fit what you really want to write about. (Tuskegee air-men? Testing of syphilis on blacks? Kind of like the CIA making crack-cocaine for blacks, a subject of many rap records, something very important to black culture, almost like how the death of Euronomyous is important to black metal culture. A+.). The wondrous jackassery that pervaded my classrooms, the spirited teachers who laugh and play, to commingling of students of all ages and groups. I really am going to miss it all. For as incredibly fucked up high school is, and has been, it still has had its good parts. For all my depression and suicidal ins and outs, there have still been some very enjoyable days here. Coming to school to see Caitlyn every day, talking to my English teacher Ms. Stastny every day. These are things I'm going to miss. I don't really know how to feel all together.

I'm listening to music right now. Leviathan's 'The Tentacles of Whorror' and it's funny. Not ha-ha funny, though. I'm not going to have any study halls in college to listen to music through. I'll have real classes, then no classes. Work, school and sleep. It's all about to get so much more intense. Money, bills, women, rent. Food. Shit, it's going to be retarded and I don't know if I'm ready. I got kicked out of my math class for wearing my upside-down cross. How the fuck am I going to balance my checkbook?

These last few years have really tested my character and theyÂve made me who I am. The ugly faggot that stepped into school four years ago died somewhere along the way, and I came writhing out of his corpse. IÂm not yet a fully fledged human being, but IÂm something. IÂm going to graduate, something my brother wasnÂt in high-school long enough to do. Speedballing takes a lot out of you, I guess. I donÂt know who or what I am, but I have come to terms with the fact that I am at all.

For all my angst and teenage rebellion, I feel a deeply invested desire to love and care for my friends. Now that IÂm out of high school, itÂs going to be different. IÂm going to have to work for my friendships, and I know that it wonÂt work unless they put forth equal effortÂwhich makes me fear for the trespasses IÂve committed against them in the past. I hope that they can find forgiveness for the things that I have destroyed on my path to becoming what I am.

I know I have ruined many things along my way. For this, I am truly sorry. All I can ask for is your forgiveness.

I love my friends dearly. I just hope that the ending of this chapter in my life does not mean the end of our friendship.

Time will tell, but for now, I am in hell.

See you on the other side.

Love to you all,

Winslow

]]> *Weeperblast one final note http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24499455/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24499455/ Wed, 29 Apr 2009 15:27:40 PDT
I wrote this in a class, and I figure I might as well share it. I don't know if it will reach the intended audience, but I would feel disingenuous if I didn't try to make my feelings known.

I believe in you. I believe that you are smart enough to find happiness and contentment, and forge true and lasting friendships. I believe that you have a strong character, one that will keep you safe as time tests your composure. I believe that you are capable, beautiful and kind, and even though we no longer talk, even though you have moved on and even though you are happy with someone else, I believe that the love that we had shared will not ever fade from our memory.

I know you say that you no longer love me, and I suppose I have to accept that. I hope that in time, things will change, and that we will be able to have a friendship of some sorts. I hope that this will not be the last time I see you or hear from you.

I hope that this is not the end, and I know that I cannot control it. I just hope that there is more. I hope, for the first time in so long, I hope for something. I desire something.

But, however, if nothing more comes of this, I hope you are happy. Not in a bitter sense, but in a real, honest, genuine way. I hope you are happy, because I know you deserve it. I just hope you don't forget me, or what we had.

I love you for everything you are, through everything we've seen, and into the future, I love you.

Winslow.

]]> *Weeperblast American Braineater, A Dead Owl, and HTFU. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24447459/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24447459/ Sun, 26 Apr 2009 14:25:14 PDT
I entered ÂAmerican BraineaterÂ into a school contest, and I got third in the city. I put a lot of time into revising it, and it has really inspired me to write it into a concept album for the band to produce. So far, the tentative title is simply ÂAmerican BraineaterÂ under the tentative title of our band ÂSmogmaÂ(see Smegma) IÂve got a few songs knocked out, and IÂll post one of them here along with this entry. The storyline will take liberally from my life, Dead Animal Kingdom, and from my fatherÂs childhood.

IÂve written a few lyrical pieces before, like ÂLoan Sharks for the Morally BankruptÂ, but this will be definitely the most major endeavor IÂve taken, and I know that I canÂt do it without huge help from the dudes in the band. TheyÂll be covering 99.9 percent of the sounds, and IÂll be on the mixing and vocals. ItÂs going to be quite intense.

IÂm also working on producing a photoshoot about ÂAmerican BraineaterÂ with band member Steve and his girlfriend Jess. It should be pretty savage. IÂm just looking for a way to synthesize human brains. Will Jell-o with milk work? WeÂll see.

I have a ten pound owl in my freezer. IÂm waiting to find a jar big enough to preserve it.

Now that IÂm eighteen, IÂm able to sell prints of any of my pieces. If you want a print, put a request in and IÂll unlock it for you. Thank you for your business.

IÂm graduating in just a few days. I donÂt know how I feel about this. ItÂs like IÂm going to be losing a lot of my friends, but I suppose the true friends will remain. I find that IÂve got far, far more acquaintances than real, true companions. The kind of people who will acknowledge me in the hallway, but never go out of their way to engage me, though I do for them. IÂm not bitter, really, itÂs understandable. ItÂs just unfortunate that I didnÂt end up being so accessible, much less likable.

And if you excuse me, IÂd like to vent for a moment.

If you want a fucking relationship with me, youÂre going to have to start giving. Talking. Eye conctact, whatever. ThatÂs how adults do things. They forge a mutuality, a consensual relationship where both parties are interacting with each other. ThatÂs the end of the sentence. ThatÂs the reason that you were unfuckinghappy in the first place, and thatÂs the reason that youÂre going to be unhappy in the future. Assuming that silence will solve problems is goddamned foolish. If youÂve moved on, then move the fuck on. If this is it, let this be it. If not, letÂs get it going. Talk, open up even for a second. DonÂt forget that I was the first to see the sides of you that no one had seen before. DonÂt forget that I know you more than anyone else. DonÂt fucking torture me, donÂt sit in abject silence, donÂt let your idiot friend tell you how to run our relationship. IÂve had enough of her bitchflaps sliding up and down on my back. I donÂt want to deal with this nonsense anymore. If you want it, itÂs here.

Get in or get out.

Now the rest of you: go buy prints.

MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast A New Kind of Grief http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24366596/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24366596/ Tue, 21 Apr 2009 19:03:53 PDT
Will you dig me up when I die? Would you kill me for me?

I ask too much, but my intentions are pure. Pure in the most perverse form of the word. I ask because I know your history. I sip the blood of your past. ItÂs bitter, and the film of coagulation stifles its odor. I enter a new kind of grief with a new kind of grieving. IÂm in the rapturous glow of no-manÂs penance, spending my nights in scabrous fervor, engaged in bile-drenched bondage of the psychological caliber.

IÂm still trying to decode. Running the numbers again. Falling for the cure, but not the vaccine. Taking all the drugs. Disregard for everyone else but myself...but still, I worry for you. I still feel for you. I ache.

Cut. Obscure. Nothing. Nowhere. Empty. Reverse.

Into the forest for the dead,

MWNL

W

]]> *Weeperblast Gun, Whores, Votes and Cigarettes. http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24302313/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24302313/ Sat, 18 Apr 2009 05:21:13 PDT
It's my 18th birthday today. Happy birthday to me, signed Satan. You know what? I can buy cigarettes now. Also I can go into porn stores. And I can vote. And I'm gonna vote for death. I'm voting for looser gun control, for more war funding, for more pain and more fucked up shit than you can imagine.

I'm gonna vote straight ticket republican, take a dump on mother natures face and I think I can buy a gun now too, so i might as well shoot the bitch.

Locked and fucking loaded, you shitbags. Let's celebrate like I'm dying of a fast spreading tumor.

I love you all, except everyone but the few that I do truly love.

MWNL.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast Riding the Antelope http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24241450/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24241450/ Tue, 14 Apr 2009 15:39:58 PDT
I made eye-contact today. That was odd. Have you ever painting a face on a mound of sad chocolate and microwaved it? It's was a lot like that, but more depressive.

My birthday is on the 18th. Golden birthday. What are you fuckers going to do about it, huh? I better start seeing some god damned body parts in the mail, that's for sure.

And I ZALGO

ZALGO

ZALGO

HE COMES.

]]> *Weeperblast Somebody Put A Giraffe In The Ground Zero http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24133455/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24133455/ Wed, 08 Apr 2009 16:55:27 PDT
S

I am his son, Dysphasia. I make the cells of the depopulating pandemic. I give life to the absolute fault of man.

P

I am his mother, Perinea. I am the mouth in which all languages die. I infuse concrete with living flesh.

I

I am his daughter, Episiotomy. I am the milky white eyes of all blind animals. I am the gardener of the nuclear winter.

N

I am He. The it. I am the dead half of Polynyas. I am in the hypnosis of error. I engage the carnal grind and fuel the torpidity of self-destruction.

S

You know they say that the road to forgiveness is paved with Irish girls. I wonder what that sounds like. Do they turn blue? Do they turn red? Do they turn back?

LOVE CACkles.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast dead animal stenches and cremations http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24078615/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/24078615/ Sun, 05 Apr 2009 15:40:27 PDT
i drug a dead coon onto the fire and he lit up bright when i poured gasoline on his patchy

old fur. i'm gonna burn all his body off so i can get to his bones thats the only good

parts. hopefuly they dont melt. i'm a collector of them and the dead always seem to have

what i need so sometimes makein them dead is what i got to do. momma likes it when im

happy. i'm going to go back down there once the rain goes so that i can take him apart i

hope most of the fur is gone. smell good when hes burnt.

i also bot myself a sex slave the other day. shes the prettiest one of them all!! she said

that she will love me forever and ever an ever and i guess she has to because i'm her

master now...hee life is good when you got no scruples

and thats what i dont got

ok bye now

w.

]]> *Weeperblast Vestygian [The Works of Man] http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/23932265/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/23932265/ Sat, 28 Mar 2009 10:49:38 PDT

Not only what man creates in the physical realm, but what he creates in his bureaucratic enterprise has been fundamentally perfected and, to a certain extent, become airtight. I spoke with a man from Wells Fargo, and he said that people would call the bank after a few of their checks had bounced ÂRequesting more money.Â They would say that they knew that there was cash in their accounts because they Âstill have checks left.Â Take that for what it is, just another story of people being stupid, but take another, deeper look at it. If common sense was more, well, common, these kinds of things wouldnÂt happen. Laws are, for the most part, impossible to circumvent. There are rules in place so one person canÂt take advantage of another person in a gross and negligent way. Before someone cites the recent meltdown of the banking industry, it must be said that there were laws put in place with the specific intention of allowing these industries to essentially govern themselves. What AIG did with their recent bonuses, however irresponsible, is perfectly legal-just as legal as every other awful offense that major companies and industries have done in the past years. I believe that man and his creations, intangible or tangible, have been almost entirely perfected by the constant pressure of the publicÂs desire to work around their responsibilities.

Keep in mind, though, when I say "perfected", that is not necessarily a positive term. Perfected, to me, means fundamentally sound and impossible to outsmart, like the business that has insurance for every possible accident that could occur on their property, and a catch all at the end of their contracts that makes their pact with another company absolute and sound to the Nth degree.

People, in my observation, have always had an inherent interest in the way the world behaves, or at the root cause of the world around them. To a certain degree, that is what makes us "people." We have this curious feeling when faced with an institution or itÂs product that leads them to investigate, to find loopholes and jump through them.

People will bilk just about anyone, if it is in their personal interests. They will cheat parking meters with sanded pennies, theyÂll use receipts dug from the trashcans of Burger King to get reimbursement from orders that they didnÂt place. Regardless of any denomination, race or financial status, people will swindle for their own benefit. This doesnÂt imply diabolical or greedy means, but that people generally feel dwarfed by large companies, and they donÂt feel that stealing from a single billion-dollar business would be cruel. When someone finds a way to cheat the system, they feel that they have outsmarted something greater than themselves, much like a human beating a computer at a game of chess.

What man has made is essentially solid, and this is only where my troubles begin. I grew up taking measurements, playing with numbers and reading about the way law works for the people who abide by it. This instilled in me a sense that, against all odds, humans are the offspring of the society of man. That is to say that we are pure products of the nurturing force of our culture. Our smiles, our laughter, our tears and the grinding of our teeth are all aspects of our culture, parts that we have assumed through our childhood, adaptations weÂve acquired through our ancestors. I believed this completely, and now I know that it is, for the most part, not true. There is a certain biological component to everything that we do. Our behavior is a natural necessity, passed down through endless genealogical strains. The fact that we have a particular consciousness, a basic understanding of the world around us enables us to have a check-and-balance system. We have the uncanny ability to review our work, to see errors and we are aware enough of ourselves that we can improve our efforts in the future. Alan Greenspan created a completely pure economic model for the American people, but it failed due to the unforeseen ÂHuman Fa... ]]> *Weeperblast Fast Asleep http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/23854841/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/23854841/ Mon, 23 Mar 2009 18:20:28 PDT please rest fast asleep
because when you are sound asleep
i creep and peep
in your twilight, i weep
for your love to keep
so when you're asleep
i wait for the beep
I don't want to get in too deep
but watching you sleep
makes me miss the sweep
of your loving reap
of my heart to keep

in love so maddening,

w

]]> *Weeperblast incapable http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/23658741/ http://Weeperblast.deviantart.com/journal/23658741/ Thu, 12 Mar 2009 12:21:21 PDT my heart was engulfed
but i find I am incapable
of expressing my love
with suffocation
of the subject at hand
and this simple mote
of isolation and guilt
becomes the only
figment of thought
the repitition of this
signals my doom
as panic and horror
of a life left alone
resonates loudly
as fear becomes fact

engrossed in this debt,
losing my grip
i am sorry.

W.

]]> *Weeperblast