Links to my new slide shows/ they kind of suck.

I have been neurotically rearranging things in the blog in the hope that having my websites in the reader, under however dubious and embarrassing circumstances, will send me some traffic. If I gain some readers through this, well, that's good, too, eh.... I'll need some big numbers when I start the cult, you know... Well, no you don't yet... Forget this--and while you are at it, cut off all contact with family and friends and talk only to your animals--use the native American method of starving yourself long enough and they will talk back. It's all too true, too true...

Just so you know, I can't even stand the commercials for that shit for brains show FEAR FACTOR and would never use anything in that genre, or anything sexy that didn't have a hell of a lot of artistic merit (which, you know, with my general lack of artistic merit, is very rare.



http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/johnsridgway/album?.dir=/b43b&.src=ph&.tok=phFvW1CBoVrIH7ib



http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/johnsridgway/slideshow?.dir=/cde4&.src=ph




http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/johnsridgway/album?.dir=/39a0&.src=ph&.tok=ph_0X1CB6cG9q28H

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/johnsridgway/slideshow?.dir=/39a0&.src=ph





THIS LAST LINK IS A NEW ONE I AM JUST GETTING STARTED, but since I have ten minutes to wash the grime off my body and try to catch a train downtown to meet M. (to avoid the beatings as much as I can, of course)....You will have to trust me that it will get better and bigger. I am taking my camera downtown for some skyscraper shots too.




ALL WRITING IN HERE IS THE PROPERTY OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY, AND YOU CAN GET MY PERMISSION TO PERFORM AND REPRINT WITH AN EMAIL. Steal from me and you will be cursed in such a way that your hands turn into worthless, jelly fish like appendages that sting your intimates.

Hamsters are too killers

Hamsters are too killers


I am thinking of taking in students and becoming a home schooling teacher. I will do this not out of any concern for kids or anything, of course, it’s all part of my plan to become supreme commander, which is written out in no less than twenty seven spiral notebooks of 350 sheets of lined paper apiece. Changes will be swift and deadly on that day…. You know me, I don’t care who I kill, but some folks do deserve it more than others and my sense of justice demands that they be shot first. For example, Massa jackoffyourson. There are thousands of people who would show up to shoot him, if someone with balls would pass a law that you could kill child fucking freaks. This is exactly the kind of creative solution I will bring to bear on societies problems from the lofty seat of supreme commanderdom. I already have an army…. Well, I have some presently unruly and slightly traitorous hamsters, but they are coming along. They …. Ummm….Already eat on command. And they take after their supreme commander in many, many ways… I am proud to say that they have picked up some of Johnny Pain’s smooth moves too, because these little fuzz faced fucks are humping any damn thing that’s close. I may have even taught them too well. I can’t even stick my hand in the cage without one of them trying to violate me. I was sure I knew what I was doing, too, but these damn hamsters won’t follow most of my rules. I don’t where I went wrong? I started out by decimating them (killing every tenth soldier to instill discipline – an oldie but a goody, when it comes to military training). I only could afford seven of them, though, so I had to pretend like I was in the other room killing a hamster… let me tell you, buster, I am pretty sure that I could see the fear in their eyes when I came back into the room…


I have yet to identify a special little Rambo to be one of my generals. You would think something as important as the number two spot in a scheme for world domination would be more interesting than pellets of grass, but noÂ… I read them all my notes and they just sit there and act like they are not even listening. Still, you just better watch it, like I told M. because I am growing stronger and mightier everyday, with each whisker that is added to my battle hardened troops.

Due to the somewhat disgusted look on her face when she said this, there was no way in hell I was going to tell her about how serious I am, or how many notes I’m taking, or how the hamsters will lead the kids…. No, I just said, “It’s just a joke.”
“Don’t make me beat you down.”
“They are hamsters, for dogs sake!“
“Will you quit saying for dogs sake?”
“With my last breath.”
"“What?”
“Nothing. You know, I am teaching the hamsters to act all lovey-dovey. You saw them with the blow up doll?”
“Until they can get close enough to rip open jugulars, that was the plan, right? You are a really pathetic liar. I better not come home and find you spent the whole day messing with those hamsters. The cats are going to get them if you aren’t more careful… By the way, why did you call my mom and ask her to sew some tiny green jackets?”
“Wasn’t me.”
“Yea, right.”
“I think I would remember something like that.”
“Really?”
“What does that mean?”
“You forget stuff, that is one of the side effects of your beloved herb. Tell me that you are not going to waste time with those hamsters today. Say it.”
“Well, I could spend the day thinking about penguins spinning around real fast screaming, ‘Oh, the shits with you!!”
“You know what, you could, couldn't you?”
She seemed surprised by this for some fucked up reason that I can’t fathom?
“I can’t stop these penguins…” I made it out like it was a joke, but I really can’t.
“If you have to mess around with the hamsters, clean the cage, but don’t take them to the beach anymore… they are not concerned about their tans, no matter how convinced you are, silly.”
Everything is a joke to her, I swear. Would you want shaved, pale as hell assed hamsters around? I didn’t think so. The tans really help."
“I have to go to work. Be good today.”
“I can’t face a day without hamsters.”
“Stop it.”

After she left, I of course got right to work, pulling out the little cardboard minefields that I made and placing the plump hamsters in various strategic positions…

I didn’t even have a chance to tell her about training little kids into a deadly fighting force, who the hamsters will lead out into battle for both justice and whimsy.… M. will probably find some reason to nit-pick at that plan, too.

Consider me taking on students, and any hamsters you can get your hands on,  from this day forward, call and I’ll see if I can use you … if a woman answers though, just hang up real quick and call back later.

x prose and some babbling

The voices never shut up.... they are there in the back of my mind howling and laughing and screaming every word I have ever heard, disparaging remarks, egotistical cheerleading... it is all there, the constant banter of a bilkllion books and the backs of cereal boxes and all the universe of things we read simply to have something to read. Sometimes it is fun, though.

This entry too has to do with my damned putting an ad in the reader begging. I am sure everyone I know will see it and feel like I have either lost my mind even worse than normal, gone on a drug binge, or rushed in where angels dare to tread. I mean, I don't play the lottery, or believe in pennies from heaven. All I ever won, in my whole life, came about when I was eight years old and won a bottle of ketchup. This was at a company picnic where the prizes started out as bikes and expensive toys then worked down to the left over condiments. We already had ketchup at home, by the way. THe pain I felt that day is probably worth all the years of telling this damn anecdote whenever I tell people that I believe that if there is luck, it is indifferent to me.

Okay, back to the novel notes....



X moves in with three artists and the kid they are helping to raise. The artists inherited a space from tehir uncle in a trendy neighborhood, where they have the corner space with a gallery, a game store, and an old bar. They live in one of the apartments up stairs and in the store, then rent the other two out to pay taxes and utilities and what not. They consider themselves part of a loose movement of writers who think they are batman influenced, meaning thattheir life is work of art too, in the sense that honesty and justice and what not have to be dealt out whether the cops want it to or not.

They start out defacing subway signs, move to putting weird poetic statements in the boxes in the subways which usuallly have maps, stage days where they stand out in public with signs reading, Will Vote Republican For Food. They are long haired, kind of post punk guys. All are different. Paulie, the guy who inhereted the place, is a half mexican kid paints scenes from video games and is the most successful of them (which is not saying much). Jimmy and Johnathon are the other two artists. Jimmy is a sculpture and a painter. He makes elaborate, wall sized peices out of foam that resemble landscapes and then paints them like aerial views. (in fact, I have been meaning to try my hand at some aerial views, and it would look cool three dimensionally, especially if you made it round and coming out from the wall, like a planet or something....

Johnathon is easily the sanest of the four. He represents a kind of melding of the intellectual with the animalistic.... but he is also a romantic with a death wish. In fact, it has to be mentioned that he has tried to kill himself a few times in his youth.

Matt is youth, the one who has to decide which way to go with his life, which bits of culture to pick up and what to discard.


POSSIBLE PROSE FOR X


The cops showed him the pictures of his pit bull; throat torn off in the front, both ears... he closed his eyes and nodded, yes. He remembers that day too much, he knows. The dog had been better than any human he had fucking met. Since leaving prison, the dog had been with him all the time. He was paiainting out of his house, a skill he picke dup in prison, and even had an agent--which all came as a surprise to him and he half expected it to all disappear soon.

He was doing something crazy, that was for damn sure. Driving fifty miles up to Chicago, where the gang was that broke into his car, took his dog, and forced her fight. The cops pretty much said they could do nothing and he knew right then why he was still alive. Why he survived the war, why he made it trhough the gray hell of prison, why he let himself keep living when every day seemed like there was something new to suffer about. He read the papers, had always given a shit . . . prison had given him the guts to do this, he knew. The same gang had given him troubles during his stint. During his intake, the social worker told him that if he didn't ask for protective custody, they'd be ganging up on him that night.b He blamed them for all those hours alone... his art grew however, and he was a model prisoner, allowed to use the internet in the library. That was where he ran across the psycho killers hit list, a half comedy site selling the paintings of a collective of artists and writings. The site made him laugh more than he had or did in prison.





They would have raped if he hadn't asked for solitary. The i

Jimmy represents the scul



ME: Okay, fuck head, what are you doing? You're 43, no kids, no money, no really, really cool paintings of great publications... nothing extrodinary at all, except an extended bout of forever studentdom.

I: Is this just meant to destroy my buzz, or do you have a point?

ME: You have to find meanings, however small, to become your signposts, obviously.... like the bikers who are civilized by kids. Made up or not, looking forward to something seems, scientifically speaking, to have profound effects on our emotional states during the day. We all know what the night before christmas was like, we just underjudge how often that feeling follows us throughout our life, coming up invisible and taking control of you and making you buy some damn thing or another... or in this case, writing a book. Once you get the outline shored up, you are ready to do what you really love, which is to make up, live in, the scenes I write.

I: Yea, so you keep telling me. You know, when I did that draft where I laid out every bit of action, the one that led to the final draft, I was writing by hand in a taxi, late at night... doors locked so I could check out customers before letting them into my sanctuary. I think this hand writing led me to a more clear path than the computer does. For some reason in here, I get little bits of this and that, then lost them, rewrite them, etc.... right now I need one file that has a synopsis, character descriptions, basic outlines for the various scenes, and
needed










ALL WRITING IN HERE IS THE PROPERTY OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY, AND YOU CAN GET MY PERMISSION TO PERFORM AND REPRINT WITH AN EMAIL. Steal from me and you will be cursed in such a way that your hands turn into worthless, jelly fish like appendages that sting your intimates.