So I've been trying to write more lately to varying degrees of success and failure. Most recently I've been writing a story told from the point of view of Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson as he travels to the afterlife after his suicide by shotgun to the face. Here's what I have so far. Please rip it to shreds. Its not much but its mine dammit!





"I have reached the off season. There goes any chance for more punts or more first downs. All the old pigskin pushers have been put out to pasture. There is only the after party now and the inevitable stench of morning hangover. Welcome to the eternal reception.
It took me a while to settle into my new surroundings. After the initial blast of the shotgun I could only taste metal in the salivary glands and there was a great howling like a fisher cat in heat. I could feel my eyeballs retreating back into the skull until the sockets looked like two white windows in the dark. When you die you can literally feel yourself fall back into the cool embrace of the beyond. Surely, I thought, I would be roused out of my death sleep by scores of naked sweaty virgins ready for the sideways shuffle while I ate grapes on satin sheets and watched angels play baseball. There would be no pain but a constant stream of contentment that not even the best drugs in South Beach could secrete. This was the escape from the daily stomache pains of my living life. It would be smooth sailing and shirley temples from now on. Beautiful.
I woke up on a fucking rusty steamship. Huge. Crawling. Massive. It was like a giant fucking cow tongue licking the back of the water in some strange game of coitus. Holy monkey Jesus. The ferry to farewell town. Ticket bought. Ride taken. Where are my grapes and virgins dammit? This was not part of the contract. Someone was going to answer for this."

Thats just a random song I stumbled across lately. Good stuff.

Greetings from the fringes

Hello World! Its me Nicholas! Glad to see you have been spinning at your usual glacial pace (trust me, you don't need to spin much faster. You look svelt.) Where have I been this past week or so? Good question. Booze is a wonderful thing my friends. Here's to Bacchus!
I must say, not having a phone, while at times frustrating, is the greatest thing ever. I can relax and get much more thinking done. I've also had limited to no internet access. Yeah I know. I like to live in on a little place I call "the edge".

The days have been filled with visiting sick and injured friends, work, work, work, and 48 hours of insanity while making a movie with friends. This has lead me to believe that madness is contagious highly potent when you're surrounded by your buds. Or in the immortal words of one man I shall only call Ballou: "Tits or get the fuck out!" Brick babies indeed.

In other news, my mind has been racing at a fever pitch. I've been coming up with more ideas for books and stories and plays than i know what to do with. So far i've thought of creating:

-a graphic novel that takes place during the Chicago World's Fair and follows a group of travelling circus performers who have to solve a series of killings happening around the city. It would end up being some sort of social commentary in the vein of Alan Moore or Iain Sinclair.

-A play centered around the true story of Lope De Aguirre, a conquistador in the 1500's, who embarks on an expedition to find El Dorado, the lost golden city. He ends up killing his 15 year old daughter Elvira and rebels against the rule of King Philip of Spain. Think Macbeth meets Richard III meets Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now.

-A comic book/novel depicting the afterlife. I started thinking about the land of the dead as an ever expanding universe where dead and extinct peoples and cultures are stacked right on top and next to each other. This would make some kind of huge metropolis where you could look at different cultures bumping up against each other. It could be a bunch of short stories connected only by their location. I've also thought of a very intricate story of Napoleon deciding to take over the underworld. This all came out of a play a abandoned writing last year that was much less science fictiony and more philosophical.

-Baby Noir! started off as a joke between me Oreilly and Jonny after we were insane for two days but I'm starting to think it could be a really funny story. And strange. Very strange.

Various other things. Thinking about how I would play Hamlet, Macbeth, or Richard. Its got to happen someday.


I've also been reading a great book called "The year of the King" by actor Antony Sher. Its a journal he kept detailing his life during the year that he gave his breakthrough performance of Richard III at the Royal Shakespeare Company. I've begun an online correspondence with him and he has been a wealth of inspiration.

I'll probably edit this later for details but so far thats my life as of right now!