Monday, November 14, 2011

Friday, October 7, 2011

Friday, September 16, 2011

James' room...

Don grabbed the TV remote off the couch beside him and mashed the mute button. The news reporter fell silent and continued to mouth the evening’s headlines wordlessly. Don glared at the baby monitor intercom that sat on the end table. He was sure he’d heard the baby whimper. He strained his ears, listening. He could hear the heavy rain against the roof of the house, the wind whistling through the trees. He could hear the deep hum of the heater in the bathroom where Betty was having a shower. A drop of sweat trickled down his face. He could hear the baby softly mumbling to itself.  Don gave the newscaster her voice back and turned the volume up a little.  He took a swig of the whiskey he held in his hand and it slid down his throat like ice.  A chill passed through him.
     It was dark in the house.  Outside was rainy.  The baby began to cry; a troubled whine that had an almost static quality to it as it came from the intercom. Don thought of turning it off, but decided not to. He’d done that once before and Betty had yelled at him. She was so pissed, sobbing and crying and screaming. He left the intercom on, but turned the t.v. volume up a couple extra bars.  The baby let out another cry. Don glared at the intercom. There was another cry, then a sob. Don drank some whisky. The baby started to cry.  It made Don feel sick.  The crying coming from the intercom was shrill and piercing and he turned the volume up even further on the TV.  The weatherman was smiling like an idiot now while he told of the blankets of rain that were heading for the area. Don finished his drink. The baby’s cries started to sound more desperate, more anxious.
     Don went into the kitchen, and after pouring himself another drink. He stood in the kitchen for a while. Sweat ran from under his arms and down his face, yet he felt cold. He walked back into the living room.  James was still crying, screaming almost. Don knew he should go to the baby’s room but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to go into the hallway, up the stairs, open the door with the little ‘James’s Room’ sign. He couldn’t do it.
     He sat down with his glass and watched the sports news. He could hardly hear what the reporter was saying. James’s screaming was too loud now. He wailed and screamed, wave after wave of piercing noise coming from the intercom.  Sweat ran from Don’s body. Shivers wracked him as he tried to ignore the baby and listen to the football results. James screamed and cried. Don sweated and shivered. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to turn the intercom off.
     Betty walked into the room just before Don had time to stand up. She wore her dressing gown and one of the bathroom towels tied up in a bundle on top of her head. She glared at Don fiercely.
     “Can’t you hear that?” snapped Betty, pointing at the intercom. “Are you deaf?  He’s screaming for God sake.”
     Don just looked at her. Tears welled up in his eyes.
     “You could have gone up to him Don. You are his father, you know. It shouldn’t all be up to me.” The baby’s screaming continued.
Tears started to roll down Don’s cheek and he whimpered, “... I can’t.”
Betty gave him another severe glance and then she was out in the hall. Don jumped to his feet.
     “Wait!” he gasped as he followed her out of the living room. She stomped up the stairs, and as Don started up them he experienced a strange sensation. James’s screaming came from upstairs and from the intercom on the sideboard in the living room at the same time. It was strange - real-life stereo - and he went dizzy. He tried to catch up with Betty.
     At the top of the stairs she walked straight through the door marked ‘James’s Room’ without any hesitation, and he heard her softly cooing. The screams halted slightly, then proceeded, but quieter than before.
     Don reached the top of the stairs and stood in the doorway, watching his wife sat in the rocking chair. She was softly saying, “Its OK honey-bunny. Mommy’s here, you don’t have to cry. You’re all right now...”
     The icy cold of the room chilled Don straight to the bone and made the hair on his arms stand straight up, but Betty didn’t seem to notice. Don looked at the empty crib and started to sob. Betty continued to talk softly to her empty arms, held as if cradling an infant, her breath fogging up in front of her. The sobbing of the baby that surrounded them, the crying came from everywhere in the room but from nowhere in particular, and it became quieter and sleepier.
     Don sobbed into his hands, then slumped down to his knees and cried in despair. As Betty talked to the baby that was no longer there, he remembered little James’ beautiful hands, his tiny feet and beautiful ears. And he remembered the doctor saying that crib death was just one of those horrible but unavoidable things that happened. There was nothing that could be done, and it was so, so sad. Don sobbed into his hands as Betty talked into the empty room and her empty arms. The baby’s cries softened to just a mumble again.



Monday, June 27, 2011

"Alter ego"

Tattoo of the day
Friday, June 24th, 2011
Alamo City Tattoo Show

Friday, April 29, 2011

"Beneath the surface."


(Oil on canvas; alla prima)
$360


"There are no secrets in life, just hidden truths, that lie beneath the surface."

"Anthony"

(Oil on canvas; alla prima)
$1500

Monday, April 18, 2011

"Le Cygne Noir"

(oil on canvas; alla prima 8x10)
$250

 Perfection is not just about control. It's also about letting go. Surprise yourself so you can surprise the audience. Transcendence! Very few have it in them.

Monday, April 4, 2011

A dark ghost.

There once was a babysitter who had to babysit three kids. Amy was a full time student who would make her money babysitting for a few parents in her neighborhood who worked nights or just needed an occasional night out. One day she got a phone call from a young woman who had been referred by the parents of a 9 month old boy she watches on Wednesday nights. The woman tells Amy that she needs someone to watch her children that very same night.
“…only a for about 3 hours..”
“… they’ll probably be asleep the whole time anyways…”
“… they’re always out by 9.”
The babysitter, Amy, was watching tv in the den while the kids were in there room sleeping. She suddenly started to hear an odd noise from the kids room. She paused for a few seconds so she can hear and it kind of sounded like a voice, like maybe the tv or radio was on or something, because it wasn’t a child’s voice, but when Amy went to check on the kids she saw that they were sound asleep. And there was nothing on. It was dark in their room so she returned to the couch.
Maybe just a couple minutes later she heard another noise but this time it was unmistakably loud, a bang, like a gunshot. It made her jump. She could hear a cry and she jumped up and ran to the room and saw the boy on the floor on the side of his bed on his knees with hands together, praying. COME PRAY!!! Exclaimed the boy to Amy. She got on her knees so the boy would be quiet and wouldn’t wake the other toddlers, and they prayed. After she calmed the boy and tucked him back into bed, Amy went back to watching tv in the den.
When the children’s parents came home they told Amy how much they appreciated her helping them out in such a short notice and promised they would call her again when they needed someone to watch the kids. When they asked how the kids were Amy told her that one kid, a boy wanted her to pray. “What boy?... We only have two girls…???” The mom told Amy. They went upstairs and found the two daughters dead and covered in blood, and legend has it; if you don’t pray that a dark ghost will come and get you.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Saturday, February 12, 2011

"Dark defender"


(oil on canvas; alla prima 11x14)

$250


People fake a lot of human interactions, but I feel like I fake them all, and I fake them very well. That's my burden, I guess.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Boris Karloff's "The Mummy"

I did this on artist Steve Bell at 'Rings of Fire tattoos' downtown San Antonio, tx.
We needa finish your "Frankie", hit me up man.

"Reanimation"

I did this a while back on a good buddy of mine.  Thanks Naz!  Hit me up.

"Pain"

...sorry for the glare.

"Inner visions"


(oil on board; alla prima 19x19)

$200

Monday, January 24, 2011

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Buddha

I have this wooden lifesize Buddha head that i got at an old thrift store in New Braunfels, Tx.  Its nice, all painted gold and has a bunch of fake gems all around it.  Its pretty heavy about the weight I would say an actual head weighs.  I put it up high on a nightstand in my living room next to the t.v..  Ever since i put it up my dogs kinda look at the space just above the head, in between the head  and the ceiling,  and they just bark.  They bark and growl at it really aggressively as if theres something there fucking with them.  I had to take the head down and hide it.
I have this app i downloaded onto my phone, its called the ghost radar app.  It shows a radar and different color auras pop up on the radar showing you where a ghost is supposed to be.  Sometimes a random word will pop up as the spirits try and communicate.  One night I was in my living room and I had my ghost radar on.  All of a sudden i hear my phone say, "Buddha", and at the same time a purple orb shows up on the radar, marking exactly where the Buddha head was at.  I thought this was a little strange, and I was a little bit creeped out, but before I had any time to process what had just happened, the ghost radar says the word, "dark".  And in just a second, all the lights in my house went out.