hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for xbox

Okay, so I’m late on my entires. I can explain why. I bought a XBox. If you know me and video games as of late, you be asking yourself if I could be anymore hypocritical? I could tell you about my day playing this system but that would be boring. Allow me to talk about this latest canvas I have been working on in my room, I call it ‘unpainted’. Like life, I’ve had big dreams for myself, but instead, those dreams have sat untouched.

In fact, over the year, I stopped painting completely. To represent this stunt of creativity – my latest piece in all the whiteness and purity somehow remains a tribute to memory lost, and that, unless I was able to paint something utterly profound, it would be an insult to even try -- or if it’s simply the size of the canvas itself that froze me. After all, it takes a lot of time, and a lot of paint, to cover space.

Not everyone gets to keep their bodies when they get sent to here. Hell, that is. We are all tailgaters sometimes turned into trees. The Devil will make us stand here for a couple hundred years. Maybe we’ll make a house. Maybe we’ll tear it down. Never burn. I water-log the wood. As in, warp it. I allow it to float down the river back home to be reassigned. Some get turned into bugs. Some into animals. Some into peoples pets. Some get turned into dangerous animals. Some get turned into fish.

I used to be afraid of fish and when I got down here and they showed me my file. Apparently a long time ago I was sent to hell and then turned into a fish and had to swim around in the dark cold depths of the Atlantic for a few dozen years. A while back I was given a reprieve from what I was doing and reassigned as a male born to a undereducated lower class family and raised in dilapidation. It seems, the giver of grace was not very happy with what I did with those blessings. So there I was banging some girl in hell's sex palace and all of this was dawning on me: life is all context. Perspective. Compared to contracting stds nightly in the pits of pandemonium, flying chopper across the skies wasn’t so bad. And if I didnt like it, it wasnt like I was some old growth redwood, I could go do something else with my life. I could actually take control of my destiny as opposed to waiting on the universe to decide.

Fuck the Universe.

The universe is 2/3s lost souls doing what some guy more lost than them is telling them to do. The only good news was I was getting used to my demonic body. The crowd didn’t flamethrow me as much any more. Usually they waited until the end when I wasn’t looking. Then they all laughed and then applauded my incinerated smoking remains. That night I went to bed on my dirty rag of a pillow.