I got my taxes done today. I put it off for months because I was afraid I would get reamed again like last year. That was the first time I owed rather than got a refund. And I owed $1100. That's a lot of money where I come from. I couldn't believe I owed so much. But today I found out that I owe $1400 for 2006. Guess what? I got reamed again. I haven't even paid off last year. Not to mention my motherfucking credit card bill. Plus the fact that I had to pay $200 to find out that I owe $1400. That's just not cool. That's insult to injury is what that is. This is one of the most depressing days ever.

Happy Spring, fuckers! So I went and bought myself this hat today. I had a nice fedora that used to belong to my grandfather, but he wore his hats too small and it doesn't fit me. I got this one from ADS Hats on Valencia. It's not the nicest felt hat they had, but it's crushable and it's waterproof. And it was about thirty bucks cheaper than the other ones. Anyway, enough about the hat. Afterwards I had to run an errand in the Castro. I was wearing my new hat. I was in a store and I was approached by another customer who said to his boyfriend, "Oh boy, he's cute as a button." The first guy wanted me to give me a hug, but the boyfriend pulled him away and said, "C'mon you don't have to touch everybody." The first guy complained but allowed himself to be diverted. A few minutes later we were at the register at the same time. The first guy said, "You look like a white Run DMC, come give me a hug." Now I don't know about you guys, but no one has ever compared me to Run DMC ever. I wasn't wearing eyeliner like in the picture, but I was wearing my Adidas, so maybe that helped. Long story short, I gave the guy a hug. Sometimes you gotta share the love. In other news, my fucking camera shit the bed. I'm bummed. I paid five hundred dollars for that thing. I know it's gona be cheaper to replace it than fix it which is even more disappointing because I can't afford a new one. So I had to take this picture with Uni's camera. Thank God for real life unicorns. I've been saying that more and more lately.

Last month I was invited to do this thing called Sketch Tuesday at 111 Minna Gallery. It happens once a month and a bunch of artists come, draw stuff and then put it up on the wall for sale. They can name their price. It went off last night and I was there. I was super flattered to be invited. It has turned into a big thing lately (there was a guy with a camera, someone said was with Fox News) and I felt a little bit like an art star. But I was also kind of nervous. I've never done that kind of thing before. I was afraid I would choke. And I was afraid I wouldn't know anyone there. I was just being a big baby though. It turned out great. I totally saw a bunch of people I know. It turns out that almost everyone at my table was aquainted with each other in some way already. Like six degrees. Only less. Plus my peeps Johnny and Erich and Amy and Josh showed up. Anyway, I actually did end up choking just a little bit while drawing. It was a self-fufilling prophecy. I drew maybe five things before I got anything I liked. But then I put up two drawings on the wall and they sold almost instantly. Ten bucks each. Later I sold another one to Amy and I sold one of my books to my friend Ezra. If that wasn't enough, the bartender was a friend of mine, so I got my drinks for free (well, I tipped). And then, walking home I found a 20 dollar bill. Ka-ching! But I realized that I'm more comfortable taking off my pants in front of a crowd than I am having them watch me draw. This drawing was the last thing I put up at the end of the night. It's sort of a take off on a Masami Taraoka painting I saw. Another artist told me he wanted it, so he made me put a "sold" sign on it. He said he'd trade two of his for one of mine. When I was leaving I couldn't find that dude, so I just took it. That's fine, I think it was my favorite one.

For the past few months I've been hanging out with Melissa. We first met ten years ago when we both worked at Amsterdam Art in Berkeley. I had a crush on her then and I found out later that she had one for me too. But I had just started a new relationship at the time, so we had to let it ride. I lost contact with Melissa after about 98 or 99. I knew we still had common friends, but we didn't travel in the same circles anymore. About a year ago I put up a Myspace page and Melissa found me almost instantly. We got re-aquainted, but we still had to keep some space between us. I was in another relationship and I'm just not the cheating type. But the attraction was still there. When Sarah and I broke up I called Melissa and asked her out for a beer. Pretty soon we were hanging out on a regular basis. It was awesome. After a few weeks I got a little worried because it seemed like Melissa was wanting a boyfriend and there was no way in heck that I was going to start another relationship any time soon. We talked about it a few times and it seemed like we had an understanding. Then things kind of took a turn on Valentine's Day because I decided to be by myself. Melissa's feelings got hurt and tension started growing between us. Last night she came over to say she can't be with me anymore. She can't wait for something that may never turn into what she wants. Take care Melissa. I had fun with you.

First a few general news items. I thought I would mention that Uni has asked me to be her partner in her monthly Club Unicornbread at Space Gallery. I was pretty excited about that. Club Unicornbread is always a good time and it's exactly the kind of event that I want to be associated with. You can find out more about it by checking out our Myspace page. I also wanted to say I rejoined the gym. I'm gonna see if I can drop some poundage. Okay, so this past week I had some pretty high highs and some pretty low lows. I'm not going to go into the details so as not to incriminate anyone, especially myself. But I'm starting to wonder if I'm bi-polar. I guess that's really neither here nor there. At any rate, after a week of ups and downs, I finally had a night to myself last night. I hung out at home and managed to polish off a six pack of Red Stripe over the course of the evening. I tried to watch "Raising Arizona," but I couldn't really focus. A lot on my mind? Yes. At midnight I was a bit tipsy and more than a little bushed. I put myself to bed and set my alarm for 9:00 am. Nine hours of sleep. That sounded rad. It mighta been too, but I woke up suddenly at 4:30 am. I lay there for a while and couldn't go back to sleep, so I just decided to get up. I don't remember the last time I was up before the sun. Right now it's 7:30 am. I've already cleaned my apartment. I'm not sure what to do with myself now.

I was walking with Uni today to go get coffee. We passed two discarded books sitting on the corner near my house. Just two old books lying on the sidewalk in the rain like a couple of retarded children. We were just going to pass them by. When you live in the city there's a lot of crap on the street that isn't worth looking at. But I happened to read the title: "Educating the Retarded Child." I said, "Oh my God!" Uni, who was already drinking coffee, actually did a spit take into the gutter. The other book was called "Understanding Mentally Retarded Children." I picked them both up and we continued our walk. There was something very right about finding those books while I was with her. The universe understands.

You guys remember me talkng about Uni and Her Ukelele? If you don't, scroll down and check out my entry for May 16th. She and I have gotten to be good friends over the past eight or nine months. We both went through break-ups recently and we were able to find a lot of common ground with each other. She has invited me to be a part of her monthly event, Club Unicornbread at Space Gallery and I'm really excited to be a part of something that seems very real and very exciting. I'm still pretty amazed that I'm friends with one of my favorite singer/songwriters. She posted a bulletin on Myspace recently about me and my friends and I almost cried. I'm re-posting it here partially for you to see, but also for posterity. This is going in the movie.... When I first put out the cd "My Favorite Letter Is U"...I gave away promo copies to all kinds of cute shops in San Francisco... I did what the Doobie Brothers said and I was, "Taking it to the Streets". I was hoping that folks would like it, and play it in their shops...This is when Poopy Lickles came into my life...He played the cd to death in the shop he was working, made all his friends listen and love it...Then the crew started coming to my shows. Poopy even gave me a bag full of Uni buttons to sell at my shows, just because... Now that some time has passed, U would think the crew (Poopy, Johnny and Toni, Erich and Amy, Dawn, Nico and Josh) would get tired of me...But Oh NO!!! They still go to almost all my shows, and stand right infront of me when I'm singing and sing-a-long... As a song-writter that is one of the proudest moments I've felt...It's like these songs aren't even mine when others sing along... it's a real trip...I love it!!! I want to thank the Poopy crew...It shows that dreams do come true...If U put your goods out there, U just might meet people like this... ding! Uni

I didn't mention in my last post that I'm working for Timbuk2 now. They make messenger bags. I work at the one and only retail store which is also the custom shop. They offer a ton of ways to customize bags. Just for workin' at the Timbuk2 store I got to design a free bag for myself. It was a pretty good deal considering that I could have made anything I wanted out of all the kooky fabrics they have to offer. And considering the fact that they weren't gonna give me benefits. Right. At any rate, it coulda been something crazy expensive. But after some thought, I decided I'd rather have something more practical. I mean, do I really want a messenger bag made of wool? No, not really. I've been using Timbuk2 bags for years which, I'm sure is part of the reason I got this job in the first place, but basically I think they make a good product. I've had two medium size bags, which are both still kickin', but I decided to go for the large size. Since I don't drive I was thinking about packability. But I also got a center panel of pink reflective vinyl. Since I ride my bike and I'm out at night sometimes, I thought it would be useful. The side panels are just complimentary and fun. The best part, which you can't see is that the inside is yellow. It's so fucking rad.

Holy hell! Did you hear that? It was the sound of my ass releasing all the pressure it built up over the holidays! Breathe in the sweet smell of release. Breathe it in, fuckers! So yeah...a lot of shit happened to me. Not all of it good. Not by a longshot. I'll spare you the details and just hit the hi(low)lights. First of all my girlfriend and I decided to split. We were together for four and a half years. I honestly think we'll be friends again at some point, but at this point we're keepng our distance. Break-ups are never easy. Next, my brother moved out from Massachusetts. He's been talking about it for a long-ass time so it's nice to finally have him here. For the time being he's living with my mom down on the Penninsula, but once he's got a job and money, there's no telling where he'll end up. Lookout Vacaville! My brother is a great friend and a really talented person. I can't explain how happy I am to have him closer to me. Then I took a new job at a retail store not far from my house. Last year I worked for my friends at Local Patron. This year they couldn't find a good space, so I had to try to find something to give me some extra cash money. This new one is probably the best I could have found for what I was willing to put up with. For that I am grateful. Still it's retail, so it isn't ideal. And ultimately it takes time away from my freelance which is what I would rather do. But 2007 is a new year, ripe with new possibilties. Ripe with diapers. Ripe with tripe. This is my year. I can feel it.

Hey kids. Sorry for being incommunicado for so long. Ol' Lickles isn't in a good place right now. We can get into the details later. Suffice it to say, I had some real good times in the last two months. I played the last Jank show with Dena, I went east to vist my dad and brother, I hosted Club Unicornbread, and the Jank played with Uni at a Day of the Dead celebration in the Mission. But there's also some lowdown shit running through my life. Keep the faith and wish me the same. Let's talk again soon.

I just did Zine Fest this weekend for the first time. It totally rocked. A big part of the fun was getting to hang out at the table with my good buddy Gas Macaroni. But I also got to meet some great people and I sold some shit too. Some of my favorite new stuff includes: Eric Davison's super cool book full of freaky characters, Julia Wertz's hilarious Fart Party zine, Hannah Stouffer's amazing art prints, Mary Van Note's totally rad sexual confessions, and Joe Sayer's New Religion zines which made me laugh so hard I drooled on myself. I got real inspired from all that shit and now I just want to draw. Stay outta my way hippies! Of course it was great to see a few of my friends whose work I already know and/or love. Karen Switzer, Lex Fajardo, Andrew Goldfarb, and Matt Deelight. Thanks to everyone who came out. Gas and I have been thinking about ways to disseminate our retarded comics in the coming year. We decided that we will definitely be at Comic Con next June. I was kinda bummed that we didn't get our shit together for Stumptown in Portland, but I guess we'll add that to the list of "next years."

I've lived in the Bay Area since 1984, but I did something today that I've never done before. Something I wouldn't have even tried a few years ago. I rode my bike across the Golden Gate bridge. Alone. I realize that this isn't a major accomplishment for most folks, but people who know me know that I'm not just freaked out by heights, I'm also freaked out by large bodies of water where I can't see the bottom. So bridges aren't my favorite things. Most of the time when I get near a bridge I can't catch my breath and my testicles try to crawl up inside me. But as I've gotten older I've felt more like facing my fears and taking risks. I'd been toying with the idea of biking across the Golden Gate bridge for a few months but today I suddenly got a bug in my ass about it. It was definitely harrowing at points. The heights and the water wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the gusty-ass winds blowing my shit to and fro and the fucking semi trucks blasting past me doing sixty. I had to remind myself to let the tension out of my neck and shoulders a few times. And my knuckles were still white as I rolled back through the Presidio. But I have to say that I feel like a bad ass. And thanks to the guy at Pacific Bikes who told me how to get on the bridge.

That's right! I haven't updated my blog in well over a month. How does that make you feel? Let's discuss. No, let's not. This is my blog and it's all about me. Get your own blog. Here's a random list of things I did since my last post: I celebrated my birthday! Hooray for me! I celebrated my mom's birthday! Hooray for mom! I showed my underpants at a Jank show. I went back to being vegan (excpet for occasional sushi). Sarah and I became the managers for our apartment building. Sarah and I went to couple's counseling. I finished teaching summer camp for Art Summer. I finshed a new load of cell phone illustrations. I signed up to show with Gas at the SF Zine Fest. I booked a flight to the east coast to visit my dad and brother. I worked on my brother's website. I wore a dress at a Jank show (picture at left). I showed my underpants at another Jank show. I got to hang out with Uni (twice). I worked as a barback/security dude at the Rickshaw Stop. I said goodbye to my friend and bandmate Dena Gerbrecht. I saw Little Miss Sunshine. I re-bought (no more loaning) one of my favorite movies, Galaxy Quest. My fingernail finally fell off.

Hello friends. Welcome back to my ass parade. Also welcome to my birthday month. And my mom's too. We're only a day apart, so you should probably go ahead and get her a gift too.

I had a real great 4th of July. Sarah and I took a long-ass bike ride around the city, stopped for some food, and got home in time to stake a fine spot in Alamo Square to watch fireworks. Of course, there was a lot of waiting, and playing cards turned out to be for shit. Way too windy. And Sarah kicked my ass on the only round of "King In The Corner" that we managed to finish. Once the fireworks actually started, we were in a terrible spot to see them. And it was cold like fuck. Generally San Francisco is a terrible city for fireworks. Way too much fog in the summer. Well this time we were lucky enough to be fog free. But it was still colder'n bitches. I felt like I was gonna freeze a nut, it was so cold. But we moved to get a better view of the explosions and by moving we warmed up a little. Then we got cold again. We lived though.

Anyway, back to my birthday. I'm having a party for myself and you should come. As long as you're over 21. And hot. You should be sexy like fuck! At least in your own mind (like me). Seriously though, it's at a bar and my band is playing. I don't mean to be exclusive, it's just the rules of the bar. Over 21...and sexy like fuck. Ahem. The good news is that it's a benefit. Whereas I would normally spend your hard-earned Lincolns on Jaegermeister, on this night I will donate all proceeds to a local elementary school. It's true. See how unselfish I am? So come on down and lavish all your attention on me. If you have any left, feel free to give some to my band as well. Or the other bands. Or each other. Whatever. I don't really care.

Wednesday, July 19th
The Elbo Room
674 Valencia Street
Between 17th and 18th
The Jank (my band) with
Sweet Crude Bill and the Lighthouse Nautical Society and
Tiny Power
Showtime is 9:00 pm
Cover will be $5 - $20
Sliding scale donation

Manischewitz! I got busy there real fast. I had about three weeks off. End of May to the beginning of June. I had no money, no job, and no clue. I was waiting for my Art Summer camp teaching job to start. Not that I didn't try to get another job, 'cause I did. But it didn't pan out. And all of a sudden I found myself with a bunch of illustration work and teaching right around the corner. Shit snuck up on me. So I got six out of seven illustrations done and started teaching, and then it was me and Sarah's four-year anniversary. This was just last night. We celebrated by going to couple's counseling. I guess it isn't uncommon to have problems at the four-year mark. Then we went to our friend Maureen's wedding party. That's right. We went to couple's counseling and then we went to a wedding party. So we got back from Maureens party and I was whipped. I'd had maybe four beers, but I didn't feel drunk. I was just tired and ready for bed. Sarah has these stones called Boji Balls. They're used for healing, meditation, energy work, etc. She had left them on the roof of our building yesterday to recharge in the sun. We came home from Maureen's party and she wanted to go get the Boji Balls. I was already in bed, but she didn't want to go to the roof by herself, so I agreed to go with. On the way back down, I was considering the windows in the stair well. Since it had been so warm, I thought it might be a good idea to open a window and let some evening air in. I guess I was thinking a little like a manager. I put my right hand on the top part of the bottom casing and unlocked the window with my left hand. Well, it seems the counter weights for the top part of the window were no longer in place. The only thing keeping the top window in place was that lock. So that upper casing came sliding down fast and crushed my right hand against the lower casing. Like a really dull guillotine. I was sort of in shock. It didn't really hurt. But I also couldn't get my hand out. Sarah saw the whole thing happen. She had to push the casings apart so I could get my hand out. That's when the blood started to flow. And that's when the pain came on. And kept coming. I think it'll be fine, but the nail was already purple on its way to black. I might lose it. I slept with an ice pack on it. But it wasn't easy sleeping. I took some Advil for the pain, but it still throbbed. I woke in the middle of the night with my finger bleeding again. I had to get up and adjust my bandage. This morning I aired it out while I made breakfast and took a picture. Enjoy.

Happy June, fools. Did everyone make it through Memorial Day alright? I think I'm still drunk from last weekend. Oh, wait...that must be because I never sobered up. Good times. I went to a phat birthday party for my friend Ebbe on Saturday. It was at his mom's house in Walnut Creek. There was a trampoline, and a wood pizza oven, and a swimming pool. I set my big white gut free and did a couple laps in that bitch. Then I drank more beer. On Sunday my friends Jim and Martha Sue got married. Weddings are almost always a good time. This was no exception. Plus Jim and Martha Sue are so awesome I wouldn't have missed it even if they got married at the bottom of a Bangladeshi cesspool. That's love. And after all, isn't a wedding just a celebration of love? In other news, I've been trying to pimp myself for more work. I've been in a lull since Local Patron closed. I sent out a bunch of letters to magazines, applied to a few part time jobs, and stood on the corner in my shortest pleather skirt. Nothing yet except scabies. But good news came over the horn yesterday. Looks like I'm gonna be knocking out some more cell phone backgrounds. I like freelance work. It makes me feel legit. Finally, my friend Merin is doing some graphics work for a yet-to-be-launched indie music website called rightround.com. She asked if she could use this image of me for a banner ad. Her husband Rusty took the picture a while back at a Pillow Pusher show. I thought that was pretty cool. I mean, it almost looks like I know what I'm doing in that picture. I've spent so long fooling the public, now I can sit back and let other people do it for me.

There's two things I would spend money on even when I'm broke-ass (like I am now). One is beer. That's a given. I wanna get a buzz on especially when I'm poor as fuck. But I'll also spend my last dime on good music. And it seems there's been an ass-load of good music out lately. In the past few weeks new albums came out from Built To Spill, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Eagles of Death Metal, Flaming Lips, Grandaddy, and Wolfmother. That's a lot of new shit. I got all those albums and I've been digging on each of them. But my absolute favorite new music came to me free of charge from Uni and Her Ukelele. I went into work at Localpatron last week to discover than Uni had been through the day before. She dropped off a cd and some flyers for her release party. Since then, her album, "My Favorite Letter Is U" has become my fucking favorite thing. I was totally bowled over by her amazing voice and the quality of her songwriting. As far as I'm concerned, this is the best thing since Feist (see my Feist entries below). There are a couple silly songs on "My Favorite Letter Is U," and because Uni is a cutie with a pink uke, there's an element of novelty to her whole package, but damn if she can't put a song together. The songs that aren't silly are really kind of sad. And those are the ones that I can't get out of my head. You can listen to parts of her album and/or buy it at CD Baby.

So it was Mother's Day yesterday. Did you call your mom? Isn't she eligible for parole pretty soon? Sarah and I went over to San Leandro to hang out with my mom at her boyfriend Greg's house. It was hotter'n hades over there. It was nice though. I didn't mind it. I whipped up a batch of bad-ass bloody marys, we ate a bunch of food, we went for a walk, and then we ate more food. I made this illustration for my mom and framed it for her. That would be my brother, Kevlar on the left, mom in the middle, and me on the right. Did she like it? See for yourself.

Last night I finished reading Chuck Palahniuk's novel, Haunted. I'm not sure what to think to tell you the truth, but I was compelled to write about it. I love Fight Club, both the book and the movie, and I had never read anything else by him, so I picked up Haunted a few weeks ago kind of on a lark. I consider myself to be rather unshockable, and if you've seen my book you know that I go right for the gut sometimes myself, but a couple of the stories in this book (because it's really more a collection of short stories than a novel) really put the queazy on me. The first real short story in the book is called "Guts," and I've come to learn that it's gotten kind of famous. It was the first story written for the book and it's the one that would make people faint during Chuck Palaniuk's live readings. Well, it didn't make me faint, but it did make me physically sick. And it has the kind of imagery I can't get out of my mind. It pops up once a day or so and it makes me want to barf on myself. Other stories like "The Nightmare Box" and "Hot Potting" also really disturbed me. Ultimately I'm not sure I can recommend this book. I felt like some of it was just gross for the sake of gross. And I felt like it was all too man-centric, even though half the characters are female. But I also liked the concept of writing a horror novel based on ordinary events. No ghosts or monsters or magic. And the short story format definitley helped keep my attention...I don't know. Anyone else read this book? I'd be interested in hearing what some other folks got to say.

Hola amigos! Happy Cinco de Mayo! Viva Mexican Independance! Smell my butt queso!

I thought I'd let everyone know that I have started expanding my exposure. Beyond just mooning beer vendors at Central Valley rodeos, I've started getting my books and t-shirts into some more local stores. For those of you that live in San Francisco, you can now find my works at the following fine retail establishments. I've got books at Wishbone (601 Irving at 7th Ave), and Needles and Pens (483 14th St at Guerrero). I also have some shirts at Fabuloid (336 Hayes St). I tried to get some stuff into Super7 in Japantown, but I think they were too shocked by my awesomeness (that's the same as vulgarity, right?). Plus if you live in Portland, Oregon, you can get my book at Missing Link (3314 SE Belmont). If they're all out, tell Shannon to order more.

Finally, I wanted to mention that Local Patron (593 Valencia at 17th St in SF) will be closing its doors on May 19th. The store was only supposed to be open for the holidays (closing on January 20th), but fortune smiled upon humble work of local artists. Now it's closing for reals and the Mission won't even know why it's so sad. Hopefully Sybil and Becky will be able to open a permanent location before long, but this will be the last of Local P until at least November. In addition to selling my books, t-shirts, and buttons through the store, I have been working there a couple days a week. As you can imagine, I've grown quite attached to the place, so I'd like to encourage you all to come check it out before it's gone. Besides my fantastiq junk, you can get your grubby mitts on the work of about 50 other local artists. Get while the gettin's good, biotch.

Click my head

Thanks to everyone who came out and saw me at APE. It was good to see some of the same faces and to sit on some new ones too. I always feel like I didn't have enough time to walk around and see everyone's shit, but I did manage to grab a couple things that are totally great. I got a kick ass screen print by Tim Swope and he gave me two free mini comics along with it. I didn't get a chance to read them until later, but they were weird and really well drawn. I also traded my book for three smaller books by Joe Sayers. I think every single page of his books made me laugh out loud. My buddy Rhode Montijo (who has a beautiful new book of his own called "Cloud Boy") directed me to some comics by Scott C. Those were really inspiring. They were goofy and fun and deceptively simple. They made me want to try out some narrative stuff. We'll see about that. Anyway, thanks also to Gas Macaroni, Nicia, and my dad. APE is always a butt load of fun. I just can't believe it's over so soon.

Some folks call it St. Patrick's Day. For me it's rookie night. I'm part Irish anyway, so generally I don't feel the need to flaunt it. But a lot of jackasses who can't hold their liquor hit the bars tonight. I had some Guinness after work, so I'm all good. But even if I did feel like hitting the bars tonight, I have a different sort of problem. I just found out that I owe a whole mess of money to the federal government for my 2005 taxes. I've never owed before, so it's a new sensation for me. Part of me is like, "fuck it" and the other part is like, "fuck." Feel me?

With that in mind I decided to watch "Down By Law" tonight. I remember loving the movie, but I haven't seen it in years. Turns out Tom Waits' character goes by the DJ name Lee Baby Simms. That reminded me of a local DJ on 98.1 Kiss FM. I don't think he's on the station any more, but he called himself the same name. That guy was the most annoying DJ ever. He was the only white DJ on a soul/r&b station. He over compensated by talking too much and acting like he was the shit. Knowing that he named himself after such a great character in such a great movie, I hate him even more now. If you're out there, Lee Baby, fuck you.

For a while I was really sweating my new stuff for APE this year. I don't have much money and time has gotten away from me, so I thought I'd probably end up re-hashing all the same shit. I had intended to have a new book by this time, but that really ain't gonna happen. I've got about thirty new drawings and the last book had 96 pages so I'm not even a third of the way there. I also wanted to have a new t-shirt design, but I had no idea what to make. Well this past week I totally pulled a new shirt desgn out of my ass. I guess I work well under pressure. So I ordered the shirts and sent the designs off to PotatoBoy Printing. I'm pretty excited about the result, but I ain't gonna show you what it is just yet. Just thought you'd wanna know.

I just recently finished an artist residency at an elementary school here in the city. If you know me then perhaps it frightens you that I'm allowed around children. Well, children frighten me too. I think it's probably their beady eyes and the smell of Cheetos. I honestly never thought I'd be teaching art to grade school kids. But there's a lot of shit I never thought I'd be doing. Parts of the residency were, uh...challenging. Like the fact that it took me an hour each way to commute there. And remembering not to swear. Fuck, that part was tough. But the kids were cool and they totally cranked out an awesome project. The principal, Kathy Hume, wanted them to make a permanent piece of art to be installed at the school. She wanted ceramics, but I don't know much about clay, plus that the shit's messy and there weren't sinks in the rooms. So I changed it to ceramic tiles with acrylic enamel paint. Kathy liked the idea of a tribute to (neighbrohood boy) Jerry Garcia. I'm not much for the Grateful Dead, and frankly the kids had no idea who the project was about, but I split a picture of Jerry into 64 pieces and gave each kid a piece. They had to reproduce the image on their ceramic tile. When it was all done, the pieces came back together to form a four-foot square image. I think the kids totally kicked ass. I also just finished making a website for my friend Angie. The site design is pretty simple, but I think it showcases Angie's photography quite well and it's extremely funtional. I sorta wish I'd thought about some of the same navigational elements when I first made this site...what, five years ago? Anyway, check out Angie's site. Her photography is really awesome. www.angievolz.com

Hey cheese weasels! I'm back. Did you miss me? Did you even know I was gone? Who ate all my Hot Pockets?! So I guess I got a little lazy during my free time and didn't feel like updating the old blog. But I was pretty busy during the busy time. And I saw some great movies. Does that make you feel better? It should. I was thinking of you the whole time, I swear. So here's some new news. I got my second printing of "Shave the Women and Children First." If you were holding off buying one 'cause you thought I was sold out, then let the money flow, sweet monkey. I'm trying to get my shit together for this year's APE as well. The books were a big part of it and I just decided last night that I'm gonna make a new t-shirt design. Stay tuned for that. I got a couple new button designs, and I'm hoping to have a new mini comic too. I'll be sharing a table with my buddy Gas Macaroni again this year, so hopefully you can come check us out. I'll post more info as we get closer to the expo. I also did a pretty big (for me) site update. I added a whole bunch of new "professional" illustrations and archived all the stuff I made for Blue Mountain. Check it out here.

Earlier this year I got an email inquiry about my book from SoCal. Somebody asking about how to order a book on behalf of someone else. I filled her in on the deets, but she never sent payment. A couple weeks ago, I got a follow-up email. I guess they thought they had paid me and were wondering where the book was. We sorted things out and she ended up sending a check. Well, I've been pretty busy with the holidays and whatnot, so I hadn't even had a chance to cash the check yet. Today I picked it up and noticed it was sort of a company check. Martin Brest c/o Savitsky, Satin & Co. I Googled the company to see who would be buying my book. Turns out the company handles the personal finances of people in the entertainment industry. So I Googled Martin Brest. Well, he's the fucking director of "Beverly Hills Cop." According to IMDB, he's also the director of "Meet Joe Black," "Midnight Run," "Scent Of A Woman," and "Gigli." I'm floored. I don't know what the hell to think at this point. Especially because I've never seen any of those damned movies. Seriously.

My friend Dylan is in town from London. We used to work together at Flax and we had a great time shirking our duties in the fine pen department. I don't get to see him very often and it's been really nice to have him around. I don't have a whole lot of guy friends in general because I think a lot of guys are meatheads, but Dylan is a real exception. He's a very funny and talented dude. If you get a chance, check out some of his hip hop tunes on his Myspace account. I really wish he lived closer. What is up with my face in that photo though? I know I'm not a beauty queen, but what the hell was I doing? Like you know.

Yesterday I quit Pillow Pusher. I know I really bummed out Salad and Ellard, but it was something I had to do. We were just about to record our second album and I know Ellard at least was pretty stoked about it. We may still record it, I don't know. I told them I'd lay down the bass if they wanted to make the album, but I'm not sure they saw a point to it. I thought maybe they would go ahead and find a new bass player, but they seemed to think that Pillow Pusher was done without me.

Okay, so on Sunday I quit my job at that gallery. And I was glad I did. But the owner asked me to come in one more day to take care of some loose ends. I had been working at Localpatron (see below) on Tuesday until four, but I went over to the gallery to finish up. I was heading out to run some errands for them and I noticed these three aging rocker dudes who were in the gallery. I didn't think too much about them at first except that they didn't look like the kind of people who usually came in. Then I made eye contact with one of them. Short, stocky, bearded, wearing a Dokken shirt. I thought he looked familiar. As I did my errands I thought about it more and realized he looked like Michael Anthony from Van Halen. Like a lot. I figured if he was still there when I got back I'd say something, but he and his friends were gone. I mentioned it to my co-workers. "Damn, that guy looked like the bass player from Van Halen." Sure enough it was him. Fuck! I would have loved to have shook that dude's hand. DLR era Van Halen is some of the best rock music ever made. I missed my chance to meet him, but I can say I was only two feet from him! Whatever, right? Lame.

Wow, how about that. It's been exactly one month since I updated this thing. Why's it been so long Mr. Lickles? Don't you love your people? Of course I love my people. I just don't like people in general. I kid. But I tell you, I got so busy I didn't know my ass from my elbow. Right about Thaksgiving I suddenly found myself with three jobs. I got this on-going illustration thing, which is great, a residency at an elementary school in the Excelsior, and then this administrative job at a gallery. After only two weeks of working at the gallery, I've decided it's a total waste of time. I can't stand the art and the owner gives me the willies. They don't know it yet, but I'm gonna quit tomorrow. Aren't you excited that you know a secret? So here's some other stuff that happened: my Christmas cactus fucking exploded with blossoms for the first time since my mom gave it to me like seven years ago. I'm a nerd, but I love stuff like that. Check out the photo though. Don't tell me that ain't cool. Last week I cut the tip of my thumb off while I was cutting construction paper. I managed to keep it by about an eighth of an inch, but it hurt like hell. Earlier this week I locked myself out of my apartment like a dork. Sarah was out of town, my building managers weren't home, and there were lonely beers calling my name, so it was up to me to rescue them. After an hour of gears turning in my head, I figured out how to climb in through my bedroom window about fifteen feet off the ground. It was a pretty good rush of adrenaline once I pulled myself in. I certainly deserved a beer at that point. Of course I always deserve beer. But I highly recommend getting locked out periodically to keep you on your toes. A couple friends of mine have opened a temporary shop in the Mission to sell the work of local artists. I have some of my books and t-shirts in there, so if you need some unique-ass holiday gifts, check it out. Depending on when you come by, you might even find me working the desk. It's called Localpatron and it's at 593 Valencia near 17th.

Man, last night me and Sarah went to see Feist open up for Broken Social Scene at the Regency. That was an amazing show. I know I said some good stuff about Feist on this page earlier, but I just have to do it again. She was absolutely captivating. The whole show was great, but it was her cover of Ron Sexmith's "Secret Heart" that almost brought me to tears. Call me a poofter but the bitch has got mad, mad skills with the singin' and the songwritin' and the guitarin'. And on top of that she's totally fucking adorable. I mean look at her. Damn! She's my new celebrity crush (Sarah knows she doesn't have anything to worry about). Anyway, we didn't stick around for much more than two of BSS's songs. They just weren't interesting after Feist. Alright, changing the subject, I've got a special message for Jim Carnes. Dude, you remember the five boxes of comics you gave me to hold on to after high school? Well I sold them this week. Sorry, but the statute of limitations ran out on that shit. I think fifteen years was more than generous, and I'd wager I had 'em longer than you did. Am I right? Can I get a hallelujah? Truth be told, I couldn't bear looking at those things while I was counting pennies to buy a box of spaghetti. Also I can't imagine you were that attached to them if you never made an attempt to contact me...like ever. So thanks for the cash, you really came through for a brother in need.

Alright, I guess I lied about laying low on Halloween. I got an invitation from my buddy Gas Macaroni and his girlfriend Nicia to hang out with them. They were going to be laying low too and they only live a few blocks from me, so I threw on the old "Drunk Mommy" costume and went over. I'm not much for repeating a costume, and I've been Drunk Mommy twice before, but since we weren't going out I figured it was cool. And anyway, I kicked up the make-up a notch this time so I'd be extra haggard-lookin'. Gas and Nicia were pretty excited about giving out candy, but hardly any kids came over. It was just sad. Especially since Gas had put together these awesome goody bags with candy and toys inside. Each was tied with a ribbon and had a hand-drawn monster on the outside. Their loss though. I got to take one home. City kids are chumps I tell you. We ended up ordering a pizza, drinking a bunch of beer and watching the original "Dawn of the Dead." Next year I'll have the money and time to go big. This year was fine the way it was.

I've decided to sit this Halloween out. I decided about a month ago. But I've been so poor and so busy that I really didn't see it coming together. I won't go unless I can go big, you feel me? And anyway, Sarah is babysitting out in Sea Cliff for the whole weekend and it wouldn't be any fun without her. I'll drink a few beers at home and watch John Carpenter's "The Thing" again. That shit still freaks me out. In other news I just made this drawing at the left. This dude, Joe Myer contacted me on Myspace. He lives in North Carolina and has a music project called Cuntry. He's a hilarious, drunken retard, so naturally I feel some kind of connection. He asked if I'd draw something for his cd and I said sure. So today I sat on my fat ass and drew this picture. The best part is that he can't complain since he's getting it for free.

People are always approaching me on the street to say, "Poopy Lickles! You are a man of such great integrity! Your taste is impeccable! Your opinions are like money in the bank! Please tell me what music you are listening to now." After I get them up off their knees I invariably tell them. Because I love my fans? Hardly. Because I love myself and I know they are right. Here's what I'm listening to now: Feist - "Let It Die" Honestly, this is one of the best fucking albums I can remember hearing in the past few years. The chick's name is Leslie Feist and she's Canadian, but don't let that deter you. This album has elements of Portishead, PJ Harvey, Sade, Cat Power, and Madeleine Peyroux. My girlfriend heard it while she was visiting a friend in Paris recently and it stuck with her. I was a little indifferent to it at first but the shit has more than grown on me. Now I want to hear it all the time. The arrangements, the songwriting, the production, her voice. It all comes together to make me all goosebumpy. This crap is haunting me! I can't recommend it highly enough. Slender Means - "Neon and Ruin" My bandmate, Johnny turned me on to the Seattle radio station, KEXP. He told me he's heard a lot of great new bands through them. I can listen to KEXP through iTunes, so I got in the habit of checking it out. Mostly John in the Morning. I enjoyed what I heard, but I didn't really hear anything new that impressed me...until I heard Slender Means. And as soon as I found out the band name I was on a quest to get ahold of the album. And I have to say, I wasn't disappointed. I'm not sure even who to compare these guys to exept to say that they have kind of an early Elvis Costello sensibilty. They know how to write an amazing pop song without pandering to current pop trends. They still have real guitars and real drums to satisfy that rock-loving part of my black, black soul. But the melodies and the vocals lift me up and make me almost believe there's a god. Yeah, nice try. But I ain't kidding when I say everybody should check this shit out. Dammit.

Over the past two days I watched "The Pianist" while taking breaks from drawing. Fuck, what an uplifting piece of cinema. Maybe I should make it a triple feature. I could watch "Leaving Las Vegas" and "Requiem For a Dream" and then throw myself out a fucking window. Christ.

So I made a MySpace account. I was never too hot on the idea until the Jank got one, then I couldn't stop checking it. I don't know why. Maybe it feeds my already bloated ego. But I figured if I was crapping around with MySpace, I might as well have my own profile. I tried to make it unique, so if you just can't get enough Poopy Lickles you'll find some stuff on MySpace that you won't find on this site or the band sites. So if you want to see some dorky pictures of me and read some more kooky drivel check me out at http://www.myspace.com/poopylickles. You can also check out my brother's profile (Kevlar) and his band (Dead Lover).

I've been working with the same company doing freelance illustration for the past few weeks. As nerdy as it might make me sound, I'm really excited about it. Getting to work from home, hanging out with the cats, listening to my own music, and getting paid to draw... Shit man, why did I wait so long?

Holy crap. On Tuesday I had one of the worst hangovers of my life. And I've had a few. It musta been the combination of what I did on Monday night, but I had a monster of a headache on Tuesday morning. I was dehydrated, woozy and surly. I tried to push through it until about two o'clock. By then Sarah's friend Meegan had showed up from NY and we had attempted some kinda festivity. I realized I couldn't hang and tried to go down for a nap. Not my style, if you know me. I was sorta feeling like being dead was preferable to what I was going through. Excederin had taken the edge off my headache, but all the water I tried to drink made me want to hurl. It wasn't until about seven when I went over to Schulz's house that I started to feel better. It musta been the burrito and the beer. Hair o' the dog. It's always the last thing I want, but the only thing that makes me feel better. In other news I've been growing my beard. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I don't have a nine to five. Sarah ain't diggin' it, but I am.

Johnny was having a tag sale today down at 20th and Valencia. I decided to take some of my crap down just to see if I could make some pocket cash. Turns out I made about fifty bucks. Pretty good I think. Johnny made a tidy bundle, but he had a lot more stuff. I only had a few jackets, some cassette tapes, and some photo frames. But I made enough to get a burrito from El Toro and a beer. It felt like luxury to me. Paying rent is gonna be another story.

When you live in San Francisco you don't see much snow. But today it snowed on Fillmore. It was some kinda extreme sports snowboard jump-a-thon. Sarah called me on her way to work to tell me to check it out. It was pretty cool I have to admit. I liked watching the dudes push big blocks of ice into a wood chipper while some other guy blasted that shit all over the street with a hose. A couple people almost got nailed with snow 'cause they were standing too close. I wish I could have seen that. Here's Slurpee in your face, tightwad! I guess a lot of the neighbors in Pacific Heights were all bent outta shape over this being in their backyard. I say fuck 'em. Shit was cool. Anyhow, I didn't stick around for the actual hot dog olympics. I had work to do at home. I've been poor as hell for the past few weeks. I got some fine freelance work dropped on me, but I haven't been paid so far and I ain't gettin' no richer.

Okay, what the fuck was this receipt doing in my pants pocket? I found it there yesterday and I just about crapped my panties. Seriously, I have never even been to Texas. My first thought was to blame it on Erich Schulz. He's been to Texas a few times in the past couple months, and maybe he planted it on me somehow just to mess with my head. But then I noticed that the last four digits are correct for my ATM card. Damn. So here's what I figger: a.) I actually went to Texas but don't remember or b.) some store near my house never input the correct information into their ATM swiper and they're using the "factory settings" or something. Personally, I think the former is more likely.

I just got back from a little trip to Mt. Shasta for Sarah's birthday. We left on Friday morning and did the five hour drive north. We stayed at Stewart Mineral Springs, which totally kicked ass. They have private rooms with old fashioned bath tubs that are fed by a hot spring near by. You have to use a rope to lower yourself into the tub 'cause the water is real slippery with minerals 'n' stuff. You soak in there for ten minutes, then hit the dry sauna which is like 180 degrees. Then you throw off your towel and do a cold plunge in the river outside. I think the river temp was in the high 30's. So, freezing basically. Major dink shrinkage. They recommend you do that circuit three times in an hour. I had a real problem with the sauna. I thought I might pass out. Sarah felt the same about the cold plunge, but that was my favorite part. I guess I got some real northern European blood in me. At any rate, I felt totally rejuvinated.
Saturday we went up Mt. Shasta and visited Panther Meadows which is at 7800 feet (Shasta itself is 14,000). It's still considered a holy place by several Native American tribes. The air is thin and it's right in the shadow of the mountain peak. It has trickling streams fed by snow melt all year long. It's all pine trees and wild flowers. It's pretty damned awe inspiring no matter who you are. It was about one in the afternoon with the sun shining and it was about 45 degrees up there. Here's me at Panther Meadows.

So I found out that my fan club is located on James Island, South Carolina. And my official fans are all high school sophomores. All I know about James Island is that it's the home of James Jamerson. I think I know even less about high school sophomores. Still, I'm chomping the air with excitement.

I just got back from Sacramento where I did a little baby sitting for my buddy Nigel. He and his wife knew I needed some cash, and they were desperate for a baby sitter. Naturally, when one thinks of desperation, one thinks of Poopy Lickles. For reals though, I've known Nigel since I was twelve. I love him and his family and I was glad to help out. I spent the morning just with his five-month-old son, Atticus (see below). Atticus likes to eat and sleep and pitch a fit. I just tried to help him stick to his routine. In the afternoon I also got to hang out with Nigel's daughter, Ollalie. She's three. She likes to talk and play. I think we must've made pretend tea about six times. I also helped her make big poops. That was a triumph for everyone involved.

This morning I got an email from a young lady named Ariel. She tells me that she and her friends Kate, Alison and Ellie have started the first Poopy Lickles Fan Club. Apparently they were bored at school and Googled "poopy." Not knowing anything about me previously, they are now "fascinated." They have since appointed themselves to club roles (president, treasurer, etc.), tie dyed shirts in my honor, and given themselves nicknames based on the animal each resembles most (duck, rhino, groundhog, and albino flamingo respectively). I'm honored I gotta say. I don't know anything else about the club (like it's location), but I told Ariel that if she sends me an address I'll send a bunch of "I Heart Poopy" stickers. I'll post any updates.

Yeah, so I decided to start a blog. It's totally NOW, right? So why did it take me so long? I guess only 'cause everyone and their fucking retarded grandma is doing it, that's why. But ultimately I think this'll be a nice place for my friends and family to see what's going on in my life. We'll see if I care enough to keep this crap updated.

Here's my latest news: I'm unemployed! If it weren't for the money thing, I'd be loving it. But I'm starting to freak out a little bit. I think I'd rather stab myself in the eyeball before I go back to retail, but after having the entire month of August without a paycheck I'm thinkin', "Well I DO have TWO eyeballs afterall." The whole reason for quitting my last job was to find something that feeds my soul AND my wallet, but shit ain't easy. Who wants to give me a job drawin' pitchers? Or better yet, who wants to give me a job drinkin' pitchers?

Here's a photo I took of myself on the roof of my building about 7:30 pm.