Shit that YOU MADE

Jody Hatton (@xdude) 10 years, 4 months ago

Hello! My name is Jody and I’m sick of seeing people post stupid shit that other people made.

Not on here — on Facebook. The latest plague seems to be quote images. Not text quotes, images with nothing but words in them. UGH! Consume consume!

I’m not exactly sure why I’m so threatened by it all — I mean, as a creator, noticing that 99% of people don’t make their own stuff should give me comfort.

But anyway. Here’s some stupid, pointless, mediocre shit I made — BUT I MADE IT!

Please post something YOU made!


May 25, 2012 at 2:55 pm
ahimsa (4) (@ahimsa) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

I write weird poetry sometimes..

the world is dying before ourselves;
ravenous, wild herds of man scramble for life
no light in the distance
no fire to spark a new beginning
falling to death as the earth breaks
water splashing on woman’s breast
babies screaming
creatures of the night come to play
with the disaster
run, run, run
for your life
will be gone soon
say goodbye to your small
box, your kissing wife, your rabid dog
gardens are chopped apart
lost it
lost it again with your only friend
there’s nothing to make or beg for
not for tomorrow, not today
today is almost over and the next
will never come
where’s your hat you wore in the war?
will it be on me soon?
5 minutes of painting and waiting as the
sun bursts
no liquids to consume
animals fall over three at a time
men try to stay alive
ears are cut, toes bleed
civilization is finished
strangers are roaming the earth
they can’t be human
language is forgotten
love is painful
weapons killing
not a mouse escapes
it’s over
do it over
and over again
until we expire.
expire to the sun.

josephm (772) (@josephm) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

Jody Hatton (88) (@xdude) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

@josephm, Sweet :)

Zhaetur (89) (@zhaetur) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

I made this guy out of hemp a few days ago

I didn’t intend for it to have the shape it did but I like how it ended up. You can put your thumb through one of the triangular holes and wear it as a glove thing or wrap it around your wrist

sbaertat (6) (@sbaertat) 9 years, 5 months ago ago


deean (15) (@deean) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

i made this. not the music. ryuichi sakamoto + alva noto made that.

Anonymous (2,833) (@) 9 years, 5 months ago ago


ohwait i clicked on it and i can see the others. nifty.

I’m excited to post my next one up… way different than any others

drazzilblazin (99) (@drazzilblazin) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

check out my fb page! eveything on it is shizzle shit i made :)

also whats up everybody! :D

Tatler (43) (@tatler) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

Mind of marble with the thoughts I carve through
To form a unique view dissimilar to a few
Il give you a clue
Keep your ear to the grindstone
Well I chisel out a phone
You’ll never be alone
Now riding in my zone
Visiting my dome
Not planning to be just another clone
When all that’s left is bone
Hope that line hit home
Until that time ill carry on with my rhyme
Gradually sculpting this masterpiece
So one day It can be polished and at peace
I’m talking about giving back to this world
From which we are all consuming with ease
As we please
Plaguing it like a deadly disease
Only to cut ourselves off at the knees

Plant a tree people!

Anetuki (35) (@whiteblueberry) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

And a recent drawing. Not full size though

, That’s some really cool stuff you’ve made there. Keep on the good work :D

Anetuki (35) (@whiteblueberry) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

haha. not gonna work my way. how do you people add photos here?

yugen (29) (@jreynolds789) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

This turned out to be a badassssss blog!

Shit I <3 my fellow HEthen

phanci3 (46) (@phanci3) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

Something I wrote to purge anxiety from a certain situation I threw myself into. A long lost love that I can’t let go of:

The night began as any 21st birthday would. My friends and I gathered at the bar, hips swinging, drinks in hand. I waited for the lightening flash of my phone, stealing glimpses of it upon table. Finally it came. The name of my favorite game. I spun around with glee and responded, waiting a moment to appear not too desperate. Tonight was the night, I believed it to the bottom of my broken heart, more and more as I reached the bottom of each spiked glass. I toyed around with words I could say, witty remarks to get you back inside me. Smoking a cigarette outside, I saw your approach out of the corner of my eye. Flirting dramatically with the business-clad lawyers as you approached, your roomates flanking your awe-inducing arrival. I embraced you as you wished me a happy birthday. An embrace that felt the antonym of oil mixed with water on contact. Like I’d finally found the right puzzle piece to join to mine. The shards of glass that put me back together, if only for a fleeting moment. You bought me a drink and I stuck by your side, the happiness of your presence spread abashedly across my face. Then the gifites kept coming, drinks thrown at me with a “happy birthday,” gifts of drunken vulnerability,the loss of my rational mind, which I doubt existed to begin with. And I kept biting the metallic grains of those little blue pills, the grains of fear dissolved on my tongue. A shot of whiskey at the common ground was the end, and you carried me home. I’m sorry I threw up on you. I’m sorry I threw up my heart onto your shoes. They tried to comfort me back at home, as I lied on my bed. Thrashing in spinning pain, brows of those who loved me furried with worry. Fuck them, I just wanted you. And you came in. I’m not sure if you knew what you were in for, but you sure had some shit coming your way.
You’ve never been right. Turning up the silence turns up my pain. AM I WRONG? Would it ACTUALLY be best for me to pack this all up, throw it all away, go to a place where your laugh cannot be heard, miles and miles away? Stupid girl that they may call me, it’s the hope that keeps me going, the hope that will not die. I stab and stab it with that steely knife they speak of and it still will not fucking die. I’ve even borrowed yours, defiant as you’ve been. I grabbed you, I pounced you, I screamed at you, told you I loved you. Keep stabbing it, be mean and be cruel by all means if you’ve got to. Just murder it with that steely tongue, would you? I love you, I love you. If there’s one thing I remember about that drug addled drunken night, I remember I told you I loved you. Everything else was talk, hogwash, desperate pleas and lies. Incoherent, desperate ramblings to keep you by my side. This is one thing I am sure of, however. Through all the agony my mind feeds my nervous soul, upon first thought of your face, comes that smile. It’s been a long time, it’s been awhile, but you are still who I think of when I’m missing my smile. Because I love you, whatever the definition of that word means to me, it applies to you and only you. Have I ever known love, or just obsession? In romance, they feel like the same.
Nothing close to a trace of a smile came across my face the two days after you delivered that glass of water. I collapsed and didn’t touch it. I drank no water, but salty water spilled from my eyes troving through the eroded bumps on my battered skin. I’ve never cried in front of you, how could I? Only in your absence I cry, and cry I did. I did not sleep that night, but bumbled around the apartment, drinking more beer and smoking more cigarettes. Screw the weed, I had enough paranoia going already to begin with. I just wanted things that would ease my mind, pass the time, the only remaining ammunition was coronas with lime.
The most depressing part of the next two days is the lack of detail. Not much to be described, time flew by possessed by those little blue pills. Little boys tried their best to get more than a smirk out of me. My mothers looked upon me with deep concern. Lots of laying in bed replaying what happened, replaying Pink Floyd’s The Wall. “For it’s not easy banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall.” Wishing that all in all, you were nothing to be but a brick in a wall. Feeling like saying goodbye to this cruel world, and that blue sky. Ill-advised emails to everyone my professional reputation mattered to were sent. I’m now dealing with the repercussions. I wouldn’t describe the midnight hours as sleep, so much as periods of drug-induced comatose.
Went and saw my seaside town. Saw my familiy, saw my dog, in a blue glow of light. Swore I felt the unsaid sentiments between every exchange, the years past of family relations and the built up resentment and unsaid feelings but most of all the undying loyalty between each and every one of us in spite of it all.
As I write and drink this sickenly sweet wine, the thumping beats of your music creations vibrate through my floor. Think I might write about it all, the things you know and the things you don’t. Think I’ll make you the fuel to my artistic fire. Think and think, oh how I’ve though so so many things before. What’s missing I guess is the action, the heart to any true worth-telling lore. You go your way and I go mine! But fuck, fuck fuck, you’re still under my floor till September and past that another year more.
I’ll create a world in which you’d never survive, for those who treat hearts as toys will not be admitted. Those who are blind to their own potential, the true source of the hunger within their soul. This place is for those who were haunted by human potential, not human limitation. Wise as you me appear to be, you have missed this resounding reality. There are too many people around me who let fear stop them from who they may be. I want to take a knife and slice the acne from from my beaten face, the product of a brain overwrought. I want to slice the hair from my head, rip my aching stomach out from my core. I’ve never felt so low as the past few days, never had a true taste of what the websites that describe depression really feels like. I thought I did, but then I saw the emptiness in my own moaning, as if another me with the same blue eyes were pulling tears from my eyes.
But now those tears are crystals, and my heart is painted gold.
Time to clean up this mess and discard the old.
But now those tears are crystals, and my heart is painted gold.
Time to clean up this mess and discard the old.
I’m sitting cross-legged in a summer dress. Was cleaning out my metaphorical closet, tossed 4 tanks and busted out a sub. I took too many pills, I keep hitting z’s instead of s’s I think it’s time for me to say good bye to this page, no more answers today.

gus (4) (@augustusmccrae) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

All of you motherfuckers are talented. Damn.

Anyway, here’s a chapter of my current project. Hope you like.

The pine tree covered hills had began to feel the heat of a new beast. The sweat of Julius’ body trapped itself inside the soft fiber of his cotton shirt. Briana whiped her brow with her black, torn bandana, but sweat beaded above her brow again. The tribe continued their silent march, their bodies sour and stale. The sun was just beginning to set, and flashes of noiseless light were birthed and disappeared faster than they could be spotted, silent far above the clouds in the nothingness of the lifeless lands. The sky was red in the distance, and patches of clouds lingered dark and grey. The tribe marched in a line, up and over a small hill of green grass peppered with stones and sand and pointy invasive weeds. The ankle high grass swayed by the hands of the breeze, and seedlings of spines stuck to their legs. It was an eerily calm breeze that evening. Shane spit a thick stream of dark brown juice from a wad of pungent tobacco into the dirt. The path of the backwoods mountains to the half-ruins of Philadelphia were littered with tiny shops, deserted, and each carrying hundreds of tins of his beloved chaw. “We better find shelter quick.” Shane adjusted the sour brown wad in his mouth with his tongue and walked at step with Julius at a slow steady march. Julius was with one hand blowing a slow, sad melody into a rusty harmonica. He was a step above bad with it, but improving. It was soothing to the group, but only because of the mental scale being heavily tipped in the direction of hunger, fatigue, and discomfort. Christine and Briana had begged him to play for days, but he had refused claiming that the horrible melody of the music even gave himself a headache. When he said that, Derand loudly agreed, stumbling in the back of everyone-panting, stumbling, and gripping a near empty bottle of fine bourbon whiskey.

The girls walked behind the two leading men. Christines shoulders drooped and her hands practically dragged on the soft grass. Briana struggled with a pack that was nearly bigger than she, occasionally tossing it further onto her back and bending like an old woman walking with a cane. Her boots clopped behind her as her laces became undone and despite her trouble it, she pushed on with grunts and exhales and not even so much as a sigh. As the sky became darker, the tribe slowed. Fatigue and discomfort slowly turned into pain. This day, however, was easier than yesterday. Today would be harder than tomorrow. Each new rising and setting sun had hardened them like the dirty callouses cracking open on their aching hands.

“A storm is coming.” Said Shane, pausing with a step onto a small boulder. “We should find shelter.”
“And where do you suppose we find that?” asked Derand, spitting.
Julius sighed, and looked to the sun.
“If we find shelter, we can take it. But don’t expect to get any. Besides, the water could do us good. You guys smell somethin’ fierce.” He smiled, trying to stay in good spirits. Inside, he was feeling anything but chipper.
Shane took out the hand drawn map and looked at it silently. He was always the one most able to tell what to do in these woods. His hunting talent was vital.
“If we head east at this point, we might find houses off of a road.”
“If we do that, it’ll put us miles off of track.”
“So what?” said Derand, now fully annoyed. “We can’t always do it the hard way.
“Yes, we can. And we should.” Julius stopped and turned around to the tribe. “There’s a reason we are alive, and free.”
Derand piped up in a deep milky voice. “Free?! Damnit , Julius. If we just went to the city willingly, we would have food, shelter and running water.”
Julius didn’t like to hear it, but had started to not be able to convince them lately. Pain and discomfort had a funny way of making people search for shortcuts. Julius remembered the words of pops. Shortcuts are the root of all evil.
“They aren’t on our side, Derand.”
“What side is that?” said Christine, plopping to the ground dejected.
Julius looked around. Shane looked at Christine, then back at Julius, throwing the shotgun strap back more on his shoulder.
He turned and continued on. He never looked back, but trusted that his tribe would trust him enough to follow. He got about twenty yards down the hill and almost disappeared before Briana lurched the giant pack onto her shoulders and trudged ahead to follow. Shane picked up his pack, adjusted his chaw and went too. After a mile of walking up and down grassy hills, Briana had been thinking very hard. She looked at the ground and followed behind him, speeding her pace to get in stride. The two were alone now, a few yards ahead.
“How do you know they won’t help us?” she asked. out of breath.
“People are scared, Briana. They’re looking for people to make it easy for them. As soon as they are scared and let others protect them, they let them do anything. We need to stick together. We will find a place to live.”
“Do you promise?” She asked.
He looked at her with a look of internal struggle on his face. It would hurt him too much to tell her they might not. It hurt him to tell them all, everyday, that one of them could see their last setting sun, hear no more chirping cicadas. It would hurt him to tell her that this could be their new life, but this world wasn’t the same as the one in the old books. Saying that everything would be alright would hurt the tribe. Everybody needed to live their best day each time they awoke, or else the tribe was in danger. He knew he could ease her pain just for a moment and promise her. The promise, though, would make her weak. It was nothing but a mental crutch. He was determined to make sure the tribe lived and acted and thought he thought was best. Shane had always agreed. Still, even though Shane treated Julius as the ‘leader’, they all knew Shane was their better chance. He could hunt, he was athletic and knew how to survive. Julius led differently. He acted as mother natures representation. Mother nature was not holding their hand, and he had to follow her rules. Briana might hate him for it, but it kept her-and the tribe-alive.
“No.” Was all he said, and kept walking.

The sky darkened and the roof of the world opened up onto the inhabitants below. The tribe trenched and sloshed through the mud as drops of rain beat down upon them like hammers. Their cotton clothes became soaked and after a few minutes, the hot summer air was no more. Their bones knocked and rattled as they attempted to shake off the cold, as the sound of droplets pounded the ground. Mud kicked around their feet as they walked, searching for shelter. They huddled close together and were silent-the angry hiss of the rain beating their skin and rattling branches was all that could be heard. The pack that Derand carried became drenched and heavy, and his lumbering frame pulled the cart along through the thick mud. Shane searched in all directions as he walked, but Julius drudged on and stared ahead. Briana stared at him from behind, wondering what was going through his mind. Why was he so stubborn? He had behun to seem to her like a strict father to a young child, and the child who could not figure out why her father did these things to her that seemed so harsh. Life had a chance to be so much easier. It didn’t have to be this way. Her and Christine had both thought it, and had talked about it many times by themselves while making fire and preparing camp while the men hunted. It seemed as though he was going out of his way to make things difficult for them, as the rain beat down and her muscles ached and she was hungry and she was tired and her bones shook and her feet were wet. The city could be reached if they only changed course a small bit, and they would have bread and companionship and maybe even a bed.

The trees began to sway, and the wind picked up. The air bit their faces with sharp, cold rain. Water filled their shoes and soaked their socks, and they kept pushing. In the distance, thunder barked and rolled away. A flash, and seconds later another thunderous bang, this one rolling longer. “Stay away from the trees” shouted Julius to no one in particular. The wind and rain beat down so hard that it was tough to hear anything else. Christine looked to her left to Briana who was walking in pace with her. She was steeped forward, thrusting her force into the opposite push of the powerful wind and rain. Christine had a look of agony in her face and she held on to the straps of the pack on her back. The two made eye contact with eachother for a brief moment, as the rain shattered almost all visibility the two had of eachother.. “It stings.” Christine spoke just softly enough that the men ahead could not hear her above the barrage of rain. Ater a few steps, she doubled over and hit the ground. Sliding, mud kicked from all sides of her, spraying Derand on his bare calves. Nobody said a word, but Julius turned to see her struggling to return to her feet, crawling on all fours. He marched to her and tried to help her up.
“I can’t. I need to stop. This. Is. Stupid…”
“You can. We need to keep going, Christine. Send the pain out of your mind. We need you.”
Christine frowned and shook her head. She took two deep breaths, choking back tears that couldn’t be seen and returned to her feet. “I can’t carry my pack.” This new world was cruel. With no foreseeable shelter, the tribe toughened it out. Another day of hardened callouses, like the last and the one before that. Flashes and booming, pounding became brighter and louder, and more frequent. Discomfort turned to pain, a pain that felt like it would never leave. The biting in their bones and the chill in their blood was only outdone by the burning in their muscles. With each step, mud stuck to their boots and each step saw them struggling just a fraction more to pull their leg free from the earth. Mother nature seemed to be telling them to stop. But was it mother nature, or was it their own human minds, looking for an easier path?

After an hour of pounding rain, it stopped. A pungent smell began to eminate from the mud as the tribe walked through it, getting stuck with each step. Steam started to rise from the ground as the humidity returned. Their clothes dripped and the hair stuck to their faces. Dawn turned to night. At the fall of the sun, the tribe stopped under a giant downed pine. On the wet ground they laid their bodies to rest, soggy and cold. There was no dry wood, so no fire could be made. With no other food to be eaten, Derand took out a few old, stale packages of crackers. They shared them, nibbling. When the crackers were gone, the tribe quieted down for a cold, wet, hungry sleep.

Night became morning, and the birds sang their morning song. Cicadas began to buzz in the bushes, and dragonflies hovered. The tribe also rose and continued pace as the sun returned on the horizon to burn the hills. The overbearing green of them and the sway of long grass and pines and oaks seemed to start to sweat just as the humans.
Eventually, they came to a reach of trees on a steep decline. On the hill were numbers of downed tree trunks. As they approached the drop, they spotted an old structure in the distance. Stretching from the top of one side of the small mountain to the other was an immense stone bridge, the side graffitied with the urban art of the old world and fading and cracking with age. The bridge shadowed above a road-long, wide, and dry. The tribe stopped and looked down, where they saw a small group of people huddled underneath, starting the morning with a small fire and talking to eachother. From their spot on the hill they couldn’t tell what the people looked like or if they had any guns, but only that there were 5 of them. Derand reached into his pack and pulled out his binoculars. Upon putting it up to his face, Julius quickly lunged at him and urged him to put them down. “Wait!” he yelled. “Get down lower. They might see the reflection.” Derand crouched and placed his bare knee into the soft mud. He raised the lense up to his eyes, and the tribe waited and listened for an update. Without lowering the set of eyes, he spoke.
“Three men. Two girls. Like us. Black guys, two of them. They have two rifles. There’s also a dog. A strange lookin’ one.”
“What do you’s think?” Shane asked.
The tribe thought for a moment. Then, Derand spoke.
“I think we should avoid them. You know how those people are.”
“I agree.” Said Shane. “We can’t trust them, all of them are the same. Canine tribes are nothing but trouble. Always stealing and raping. Nothing but bandits. Who needs a dog capable of killing so easily, anyway?”
Julius tapped on his chin with his finger, squatted on a knee next to Derand. His tribe was in a bad position. They could risk going to form an alliance and rest underneath the dry shade, but it was a big risk. On the other hand, their food was running low. They were tired, and hungry. The 12 gauge that Shane strapped on his shoulders had only 5 shells remaining. Julius started to realize the more he thought about it that working a deal with these people might be the only shot they had left.
“Give me the gun. I’m going down.”
“You can’t. They’ll kill you.” Briana knew they needed him.
“And if I don’t, we’ll die of starvation.”
“Don’t go. We…we all need you.”
“This might be the last chance we have. We’re running out of food. We might not see another person for days. I’m going down.”
Shane handed the shotgun to him slowly. Julius grabbed it and said “Watch for me. If anything happens, run. Take the things and go wherever you feel you need to go.” He was looking at Shane now.
Briana began to panick, searching for something to say.
“I’ll return with help.”
Julius started to descend the hill with the shotgun, careful in his short steps. Briana watched, choking back tears and whatever words she couldn’t figure out how to say.
Julius got half way down the steep incline, then stopped for a plan. He kneeled and looked on the movement of the strangers. The girls of the tribe were laughing with eachother as they put gear into packs. The men were still standing together talking. Behind them, the structure of the bridge emerged from the rock. Julius saw who he presumed was the leader. He was a dark skinned man with a tough looking body and did most of the talking. The two other men stood at attention like soldiers to an officer. He had long nappy hair and a nappy patch of beard on his chin. His face and body made him look like a soldier, and he wore black boots and carried a military rifle. His shirt was a plaid button up, cut off at the sleeves and unbuttoned. His arms were solid. The two other men also looked tough, but not with the same rugged savageness that he showed. One of the others was black, and the other was a skinny man the same complexion as Julius. One of the two also had a rifle. The same as the leaders.

Julius crept down the rocky hill and through a patch of vegetation until he was at the foot of the road. His boots dug into the mud and slid ever so slightly with every tiny step. Sunk into the mud and feeling the sharp poking of the rocks on his legs, regret and fear swirled in Julius’ mind. The fear screached and nagged at him like a thousand pleading voices, telling him to stop. Be safe. Be warm. Go back to your friends, they will give you comfort. Julius took a deep breath and shunned the voices from his mind. Looking out, he waited until he was sure that the three men were occupied then sprinted across the road, ducking into the bed of the creek at the other side. Again, the voices of mothers comfort took him in. The soft trickle of the clear, cold water running into and around the shallow waters rocks was like a warm blanket to the voices that nagged and nagged him, telling him that there is an easy way. A gentle, kind way. Julius looked up to the edge of the ridge where his friends waited in hiding, tired and hungry. “Purity” he said to himself, and the voices were gone. Taking a deep breath, he stuck his head out to track the progress of the bellicose looking men’s movements. They were in the same spot by the edge of the bridge, still conversing. Perhaps it was strategizing. Perhaps it was even arguing. The dog was sniffing the road and every rock as it walked in the opposite direction with it’s tail wagging and nose twitching. From here, he could see what Derand meant by calling it strangeness. It’s fur was more gold than black, but it had large black spots on its hay like, ugly fur that made it seem easy to mistake it as such. It’s front legs were longer than the back and attached to masses of lurched, strong shoulders. It had a short, stocky snouth that covered pairs of large sharp fangs, and a mane like that of a horses. Behind two oddly shaped, attached oval ears. Julius made sure that the canine was not looking his way, then focused back to the others. As Julius saw that the men were still busy with the leader, he lurched forward and ran a few yards until he was at the base of the bridge. His heart racing, he could see the leader was even stronger looking up close. Listening closely, he heard the words of one of the men. “But if we go that way and it isn’t there, we will be miles off track and might run into Forte’s men.” His back to the wall, he closed his eyes and took one more deep breath, then exhaled slowly. What the fuck am I doing? Spinning a quick half turn, he raised the gun up and whistled, while bolting from behind the stone structure. The three men quickly took their rifles and pointed back at Julius.
“You three look like some quick shooters. Good thing this puppy right here has a nice spread. One pull of my finger is all I’d need.” Julius tried his hardest to keep a cool and calm posture. Inside, he was panicking.
The man with the square colored shirt looked at the woodland colored shotgun carefully. Taking a slow step foreward, he slowly lowered his rifle to his side, then let it fall to the ground.
“The way I sees it, ain’t nobody gotta die today.” The two other men dropped their rifles on the ground the same.
“Why don’t you drop that gun and come share our breakfast? Our girls is cookin’ up some deer”

Julius had no choice. He had to give this man conversation. His friends, waiting in hiding in a patch of long, dry grass, depended on him. He slowly placed the shotgun on the ground, making sure to keep an eye on the rugged stranger.
“Aight den.”
Julius followed as he walked underneath the bridge to where the women had started the fire. The coals crackled underneath and he could smell the sweet scent of blood smoking from the deer meat as it browned over the fire and its juices bubbled. It had been many days since he had last eaten meat.
“Sit.” The dark skinned man said. Julius bent over and sat on the rough, hard pavement with his legs crossed, turkish style. A crack in the asphalt at his ankle had weeds growing out of it, and at the crack the asphalt jutted outwards like a miniature canyon filled with a giant tree.
“What you doin out here, partnah?”
“Surviving” was all Julius said. His chest felt like it was in his stomach, and he found it difficult to swallow. A drop of sweat started to run down his eyebrow and he could feel the sun hot on his skin.
“Yea I can see dat.” The stranger picked up a large piece of deer meat off of the fire with his hand and tore it in half. Juices spittled onto the pavement, and reaching he gave one half to Julius. The man sitting behind the leader-who looked a lot like the leader himself- took a chunk and raised it to his mouth. The leader raised his hand and with a hard slap, swiped the meet out of his hand.
“What the fuck is you doin?” He roared. “I know you ain’t tryin ta eat before me an’ our guest. You wait just a god damn minute.” The man looked down, ashamed. He then scoffed and picked up the meat, mumbling to himself and brushing off the tiny pebbles that stuck to his meal.
“I’m Tressor. This knucklehead is my little brotha Desmond and this lanky lookin’ bean pole is Andrew. And these is our girls, you ain’t gotta worry yaself wit dem.” The girls sat next to each other and ate quietly across the fire. Julius ate too, and felt the warm sustenence with every bite of the tender flesh. Sitting there, he almost lost concentration tasting what he figured to be the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. His heart rate began to fall, and his posture became more relaxed. Tressor broke his concentration when, with a mouth full of chewed flesh and a drop of grease trickling to his chin, he barked an order to Andrew that Julius could not understand.
“portare I suoi amici”
Andrew stood up and walked off in the direction Julius had come.
“That damn dog always wanders off.” Said Tressor, looking at Julius.
Julius took another bite, and looked at the ground.
“What you scared about, boy?” asked Tressor, and spit a line of juice through his teeth on the hard concrete beside him. Julius’s heart started to beat a little faster.
“Scared? I’m not…”
“Bullllllll-shit” Tressor mocked. He had a look in his eye of an interrogator now, and he raised his chin to look at Julius with his eyes downward. “You played it pretty cool over dere, like a regular ol’ cowboy. But you ain’t foolin’ me, boy. Ain’t dat right, Des?”
Tressor’s little brother was sitting with his knees at his chest and feet flat on the ground. He continued chewing his venison and looked straight ahead. He cooly answered with a simple grunt. Mmmhm.
Tressor continued talking to Julius, holding the succelent meat with his bare hands. His posture was relaxed and wide open.
“I can smell fear. It’s instinct.”
Julius said nothing, just looked back as he struggled for something to say.
“Look, I only came to you to look for help. I only had the gun because I wasn’t sure if…”
Tressor interrupted.
“You like dogs, boy?”
Julius shutup and looked at the rugged-and now curious-stranger.
“Why would I like something that wants to eat me?”
Tressor started to laugh. He looked to his brother, who was now on his second piece of ripped deer steak. He chewed a mouthful and a half like it was his last day on earth. Grease spilled onto his shirt and Julius could hear him breathing frantically through his nose over the crackle of logs as he devoured the deer.
“You hear dat, Des?” Desmond was already laughing. He looked at his big brother and guffawed.
“You hear what da man jus’ said, girls?”
The girls both looked up at Tressor and shook their heads timidly.
“I axed you a god damn question!” Tressor shouted. His eyes opened wide and he was staring at the girls with fire virtually shooting from his nostrils.
“Yes Tressor” they said in unison. Their voices barely reached a squeak, and they went back to nibbling their food.
“You know how dogs came to be? Dogs now, not wolves.” Julius said nothing. “Dogs were created. By us. Humans. Ya see, wolf and man had always been enemies. But one day, humans says dat it’d be a wise idea to get dem wolves on they side. And the wolves says it’d be a good idea to get the humans on theirs. So they starts helpin’ each other out. The humans is good at makin’ tools, strategizin’ an such an’ the wolves…they got good huntin’ instinct. It’s a perfect partnership. Mutualism, they calls it.”
Julius whiped the grease from his hands onto his dirt covered shirt.
“Ya see the wolves became dogs-different types, dependin’ on how the humans was tryin’ to use ‘em. They was good because they had natural huntin’ instinct. They smell blood, and they smell fear. Want to know why I’m down here eating this delicious doe and you’re tryin ta loot and steal mines? Because I’m a dog. I smell fear.”
Tressor looked up over Julius’ head behind him. As Julius turned to look at what it was, he saw his 4 friends, each looking terrified. They had their hands on their heads and were moving very slowly. Behind Shane, Christine was sobbing. Andrew stepped forward with his rifle pointed at the four, who were moving at half a pace. Julius looked to where the guns had been dropped, and saw that they were not there. Andrew took the shotgun off his back and with one arm tossed it to Tressor. When Tressor cooly raised the shotgun to his hip, Andrew tossed the other rifle to Desmond. Tressor stood up off of the ground now, and looked at Julius menacingly.
“Boy, you shoulda known better than to try an’ sneak up on a dog.”
Julius was panicking, searching for something to say. He looked up at the man who now held his life in his hands.
“Now I guess I’m just gonna have to gun your scroungin’ cat-ass self with this nice new piece I just acquired.” He looked it up and down, rotating it to get every detail. Derand had his face scrunched up, the hairy mole and his chin moving up and down as he began yelling insults at Tressor.
“12 gauge, automatic. What kinda cartidges you think they got in here, Des? Flechette? Buckshot? I always wanted to hit someone wit’ a slug, ‘specially some swindlein’ shitbirds.” He raised the barrel up, closing one eye and aimed directly at Julius.
Julius tried frantically to tell this man anything that would help them. Somehow, this man just didn’t look like he could be reasoned with. His dark brown eyes had no sense of human life to him. Julius had a feeling that behind those eyes, that brain was both incapable and disturbingly capable of very scary things. Evil things, they had been called in the old world. Now they were just natural things.
“Now, I’m a reasonable man. If you can give me one god-damned reason I shouldn’t see what’s inside that feline skull of yours and your two in 5 seconds, I might be inclined ta consider. I’ll let the beautiful ladies live, of course.” Tressor looked Briana and Christine up and down, and licked his teeth. The tribe was visibly shaken, not having a clue what to do without their chiefs guidance. Julius looked to them, taking in all four of their images at a glance. Christine was sobbing, and his heart ached for her. Derand was still shaking with anger, ready to box any incoming bullets fired his way. Briana stood there, small but strong with those beautiful green eyes he had loved so much. Julius looked to Shane, his best friend, who he respected most. He was still wearing the one strap of his overalls unbuckled, and the corner of a piece of paper was sticking out from his side pocket.
“We have a map.” Julius blurted out, as if someone from inside him had thrown it out like a fired cannon.
“So why don’t I just kill you and take it den?”
“Because only two of us here know which way is north on it. It isn’t marked.”
Tressor looked over the iron sights of the shot gun, and tapped his fingers against the stock, 1 2 3, 1 2 3. He quickly took his eye of the sight and spit a line of saliva into the smoldering fire. The strap of the shotgun was adjusted perfectly already, being as he was about the same size as Shane. He put it around his head and rested it on his back, then turned and walked away.
Christine had begun to stop crying now, but drops of tears still dried on her red cheeks. Andrew, who had been chewing a raw tobacco leef, spit a stream of thick, brown spit following the lead of his boss. His teeth were yellow, brown, and rotting. Saliva dripped from the side of his mouth, where years of tobacco had browned the corners of his mouth. Reaching into a pack on the ground near the girls, he took out yards of thick rope that was neatly rolled into a wheel. Just then, the dog came trotting back to the camp laughing in a way that Julius could only guess was the laugh of Satan. It was the ugliest, scariest beast he had ever seen. “Look who we got here, Lucy.” Lucy seemed a strange name for such a tough looking beast, especially since Julius could see the flopping mass between its legs.
The sun was beginning to set. In the distance, a wolf howled. Somewhere, the alpha male was signaling to any other surrounding wolf tribes-we are here. This is where we stay. This means danger for you.
Tressor sat up all night, whittling away at a small piece of wood with a giant marine style bowie knife. He watched as the fire burned out and his tribe fell asleep and the tribe he held captive tied up to a tree not doing much sleeping looked ahead with dead eyes. Stopping his whittling, he chuckled to himself. “A cat oughta know better than try and sneak up on a dog.” He tossed the meat cleaned spine of the deer to Lucy who cracked and shattered it with one forceful bite. Then, he spit and started again.

Izco (42) (@maximo23) 9 years, 5 months ago ago
this is my autobiography

check this out


Anonymous (0) (@) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

An instrumental I made with a short speech towards the end, enjoy :)

phanci3 (46) (@phanci3) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

@maximo23, OH MY GOD! that’s amazing!!! im not as good with words as you are when describing artwork but i got a little teary with amazement. props, keep up the great work :)

phanci3 (46) (@phanci3) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

i want one of those painting so [email protected],

Izco (42) (@maximo23) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

@phanci3, we have shared an experience, mission accomplished. haha thanks i’m glad :) i gave this painting to my high school art teacher, she was my hero at the moment, still is.

Anonymous (2,833) (@) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

@maximo23, very cool man.
@stevenv, im chilled the fuck out

Jay (87) (@jaygran7) 9 years, 5 months ago ago

Song I made based of the the idea of Hypnopaedia in Brave New World. Lyrics are with the track.

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