Omen Kill-Sun, Aqueous Anamnesis, Misty Master Splinter.

Picture Owen Wilson as the carpenter.
Why the fuck not?
I've been told I look like him.
I don't know if that is a compliment.
Now Luke Wilson is some damn.

As anyone living in the Grand Rapids area knows, we are well into the shit-fest known as Artprize. (See my previous blog post HERE if you are unfamiliar with this shit-charade.) As I suspected, not only do we have the normal shit-shamrocks that haunt the streets of our fair city, but we had to import even more shit-kabobs and make life even fuckier for the rest of us. But I had a great idea the other day that would make Artprize fun for one year and possibly cause the whole thing to cease from then on. My idea is this, you have an obscure artist enter the competition. No one has really ever heard of this artist and perhaps they don't even consider themselves an artist. But they have years of carpentry experience and are a true craftsmen. They would acquire a large outdoor space downtown where they can set up. But unlike all the other "artists," this artist would not have their artwork complete by opening day. In fact the day the festivities begin, you will find this mysterious person with only raw materials, tools, and a large pile of lumber, which would peak the curiosities of any passerby. Then our anonymous artisan would go to work. They would begin working day and night, swiftly cutting and carving, hacking and stacking, sanding and staining. People would stand around and be amazed not only by their prowess but also their passion and obsessive loyalty to their trade. It would inspire young and old to gather around our artist and even bring them sustenance. And of course they would begin voting for our artist based on their will to win alone. Then after about a week, people begin to be truly touched, for it becomes apparent that our artist has built the outline of what appears to be a bell tower, complete with a crucifix. The crisp fall air would only intensify the chills one would feel from this pilgrim's piety. Another week passes and it has taken form as a small chapel, complete with breathtaking carvings of the twelve apostles, John the Baptist, David and Goliath and fuck it the entire cast of Veggie Tales while we're at it. At this point, there is no question who will be the winner this year. Both people's of faith and secular critics would agree that this artist truly is blessed. Then at the awards ceremony, everyone gathers once more around the creation of our artist, a beautiful cathedral no larger than a schoolhouse but remarkable nonetheless. Then Dick Dev-il-os would hand over a check for $200,000 and the crowd would applaud in enthusiastic agreement that they had all made the right decision. Then the moment the check was in their hand, the artist would walk over to their masterpiece and burn it asunder. People would gasp in horror and confusion. Their trust and faith in everything and everyone would be questioned. And whether they understood it or not, that is what art should embody. Perhaps they wouldn't agree with it, most likely they would despise that person and be disgusted by their actions. But that person stirred them in so many ways. They lifted them to high heaven and then crushed their spirits into the mud. After only embers were left, the artist would donate all of the money to a woman's shelter. Seeing it as a small bandage for the atrocities the sons of God have committed. It would be glorious.

This would be playing at the bonfire of course.

I love these movies.

But hey on a lighter note, have you ever had a super vivid dream that you were peeing and then woke up peeing? I totally did that at about 4 a.m. this morning. I didn't full blast let it rip pee all over the place but there was definitely some seepage. I have been feeling kind of sick so I am not sure if it was related to that but that has not happened to me in a real long fucking time. Like two decades long time. I was probably snuggling some Beanie Babies or some shit the last time that happened. Blew my fucking mind. It reminds me of this time that I lived with my brother years ago. I remember I was still in college and we were living in this apartment together. I woke up one morning to go to class and felt pretty much fine aside from being a little tired. I was laying on my back and felt some bubbling that was not out of the ordinary. I thought, "Welp, I guess I have to fart." So I began the process of farting, but I got more then I bargained for. My sphincter was just like, "Hey Zach, I am taking the day off. You may want to buy some cork or something." Needless to say I immediately emailed my professor and said, "Sup bro, I know I have missed a lot of classes, but if I come to class I am just going to poop my pants and have to leave." Maybe I am just getting old.

One of the few movies we had at my dad's house.
Still awesome.

Otherwise, I have pretty much just been slaying dragons on Skyrim and working. Tristram is going to be playing a show on the 2nd of October at the old Turtle Den. I guess it's called The House Of Pancakes or something like that. I will probably always refer to it as the old Turtle Den. That is a way cooler name. But hey, I am just some fucker who is going to play there, I am grateful for the space and time. The best thing is it's about a 3 minute walk from my house. So when I come off the adrenaline from playing and remember that I hate everyone I can totally bail. Man I love bailing. I think in some ways I maybe have social anxieties and shit, but I also truthfully think that most people have nothing enriching to say or discuss. Also I get this overwhelming inertia when I see bands play. I guess you could call it inspiration but I see a band and often time I feel like "Why the fuck am I here I should be practicing so I can do what they are doing." I just went to the Knife Ritual, Cloud Rat, False, Thou show in Muskegon last week and it was fucking incredible. I am really glad I went but I got that feeling hard while I was there. Rorik and Cloud Rat overall are the reason I decided to start playing guitar. A lot of other guitarists had influences on me of course but after I saw Cloud Rat I was like, "Fuck it, do it live. These smooth criminals are doing it live real hard." So yeah, I guess I am saying I should go see my friend's bands more often, but I should also not go and practice so I can play with them and go on tour forever and ever.