My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

tough guy poetry and manly stories of loneliness
all contents copyright Jon Rolston 2004, 2005, 2006

August 27, 2009

illustrated text message

poopsy
Mr. Ravioli sent me that text months ago, and I illustrated it immediately and it’s been waiting for this moment when all the technology at my fingertips isn’t corrupted, in need of updates or drivers, or somehow non operational. Hooray.

3 Comments

  1. Mark Webster? Is the North Church Steeple still lit up like a rocket ship, waiting to take the children of the night up to space?

    Comment by poop — August 28, 2009 @ 4:27 pm

  2. Can’t remember why I had his name on there. I think it was a to do list, and I keep meaning to send him a letter. Anyone heard from him lately?

    Comment by Rolston — August 28, 2009 @ 11:22 pm

  3. ok. hold onto your hats, children of the night. We are all on the lip of a great accomplishment. Can you hear that? Listen. It’s the sound of SHIT GOING DOWN.
    What I need you all to do is kiss the ground you walk on. We are bold. Right>? We are the future. No shit. We are the present. I’ve got my marbles. I’ve got every fucking marble god gave me but now they are all where they should be.
    I actually had great plans to tour the country easy rider style in American flag bell bottom pants driving a jap honda cb750. that may happen but there have been some complications. Nothing serious but it looks like only the bell bottom pants part of my fantasy is going to come true.
    no, don’t cry. it’s all for the best. Our destiny is revealed piece by piece, like those chocolate windows in the advent calender. JUST LIKE THAT.
    The first step is to man up. no more fucking around.
    the second step is to remain a man until your lungs collapse.

    everything else is simple. Life isn’t like a baseball game because in life you don’t have to sit down after striking out. You can say “Come on. Throw another one.” and if you say it right, you aren’t out. You get to bat again. If you say it wrong or don’t say it at all then you basically just walk out of the park and die. These are hard lessons…and probably what I would tell you privately, Jon, if we had a moment to catch up. As for the Hawkmaster…we will hopefully see eachother on a piano bench sooner than later. Blues and Jazz. That’s the key.

    Comment by mark webster — August 29, 2009 @ 11:28 pm

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