view from the john hancock building... (taken from the swedish words for 'handy with cock,' which today is a popular euphism there for masterbation.

This is the view from M's old office... looking down from the hanckock bulding, where Chris Farley was found bloated and blue and reeking of whores... M. used to have her office up in here, too. They vie with the sears tower for the best observation deck in the city.M. and I used to smoke doobies and watch the fireworks blowing off about even with her 40th floor office....
art by johnnypain

a round building on the river.... how too too cool for school and fools

marina towers is on the Chicago river, a round building with some of the most precarious looking parking spots in the world. A very coolplace to live if you have a boat...
art by johnnypain

M. LOVES RED... looks pretty passionate here, eh? Reminds me of some of M.'s under garmets....
art by johnnypain

buckingham fountain during the day.... the fish spit. You can spit there, too. If ya want. But not in front of cops, because that could get your head broke just for being stupid.
art by johnnypain

warm summer buildings like so many wombs
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superman view of the city looking north from teh sears tower.
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I DO NOT WANT YOU THINKING I TOOK THESE PICTURES???

All these dramatic chicago shots have been sampled and then messed with in photoshop and stuff. My apologies and kudos to them all... may they take their presence as the fondest form of flattery...








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.

the 2.5 million dollar light show melds into every spectrum... This really keeps the homeless people in the park amused. That and naming pigeons for members of their estranged family.
art by johnnypain

the bridge opening over the chicago river. A bum actually lived in the workings somehow. His household would tilt like 80 degrees a few times a day. He had to hold everything down...had a tv and shit and he fought them when they tried to throw him out. He lives in the park now.
art by johnnypain

the flat earth tilted and I fell off...
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monroe harbor
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monroe harbor
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skyline
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the world fair launched eastern mysticism into america...

the world fair once was... launched eastern mysticism
art by johnnypain

The world fair brought society into contact with mysticism of the eastern sort, and in the aftermath of the cultural comingling that took place, cults of all sorts sprouted up throughout the city. Mostly they were tea and biscuit cults of a few women who like to say indian words.

art deco poster
art by johnnypain

the bean
art by johnnypain

sears tower, looking on marina apartments
art by johnnypain

the great bean
art by johnnypain

skyline, night
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looking out from sears towers
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th el train
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al capones mug shot
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buckingham day
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buckingham fountain at night
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city in early night
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the city
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drinking on a sunny day
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flowers in the night
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me
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ruby dog yawns during an extended lecture on the military attributes of rodents.
art by johnnypain

the struggle to remain free of definition
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distrorted lillies on red
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the green housing
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WATER lillies
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tickling the cow in the game lack and slight... wait, black and white..
art by johnnypain

"Man turns his back on his family, man he just ain't no good."

from Nebreska, the best folk album ever. Period. Bob Dylan and Woody are close... but nothing has ever made me feel quite as much emphathy for humanity and rage against the night as this album.

Highway Patrolman... this song inspired Shawn Penn to make the movie Indian Runner, which kicks ass...

I came in here today to write about something I have been letting go of lately... the creep who molested me and my brother. A member of my family esteemed for his piles of money and business acumen.... not to mention taking in exchange students and other shit that makes me wish I was the killer.

"man turns his back on his family, he just ain't no good."

I am beginning to think I lost my dear brothers respect over this and I AM PISSED OFF THAT THE REAL PERSON TO BLAME, THE CREEP WHO FORCED US INTO HIS SEXUAL REALM WHEN WE REALLY JUST NEEDED A FRIENDLY FATHER FIGURE (AND GOT A FUCKING PREIST)... now, this dear brother, who I bathed and loved and am damned proud of and find to be one of the funniest men on the planet... hates me for pointing out the elephant in the living room.

My neice and nephew, who I haven't ever been close to, will never come to my place to visit, or even be civil at a family gathering. This means that the creep has now forced me to avoid going back 'home' to Ohio. I have friends there I love like family, but going down there and not seeing the people who I love the most is too much for me to contemplate. I have my own family of sorts here, though you know, no kids or anything to make me feel like I am THE FAMILY, rather than the family being something I have to visit.

Sitting here listening to springsteen's nebreska is enough to make me feel pissed again about all this crap. I didn't ask for any of the troubles in my life, but I faced em down one after another, even chronic crippling pain and the loss of what I thought was the greatest love a man could ever have... just made me more ready to fight. On this creep issue, however, all I have is words... maybe nothing at all will ever come of them?

I play all the time like I don't care if I become a noticed writer or not... to feel this way required me to kill off a lot of dreams, and their deaths were as bloody as any kid who finds out he isn't going to be a rock star...

People envy me a lot, which is weird. They say things like, "Hey, you're doing what you want to do?"

Am I? I am doing what life has channeled me into doing, little different than an animal raised for food consumption; just a fancier cage and better grub. I am more confused than ever on this point because of this damn blog... the more I work on this thing, the more I re-read what is coming out and straighten things up... the more I think I am possibly doing the writing I was meant to... but blogs were not the literary realm where I expected to live, and the thought of a shelf of novels bearing my words is still about the only thing I believe matters. Do you have something in your life that matters more than anything else? More than people, animals, health, or a clear head? I spent my youth and health getting to this desk, right here, as a trained writer... and now I am not sure which hoops to jump through.

Now my family is as aleinated from me as the rest of you. The only one who cares to own up to everything has become by default my only real family. My mother is a repository for clean cut stories about a life she would like me to have... I love her all to hell mind you, and really enjoy spending time with my mom. She is a fun woman. Right now she is in London visiting my sister and the creep. I held my toungue as she told me about the trip and all this shit... what could I do, piss on her parade? I wish I could blow it off the face of the fucking earth!!!!
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.

the life
art by johnnypain

nn
art by johnnypain

THE BEST PLACE TO PUNCH A WINO? IN THEIR DISTENDED LIVERS, OF COURSE!!!

The sun is warm on our backs, the coffee mugs hot in our hands. Ruby Ann the husky dog is curled up by our feet. My birthday morning and we've walked down the beach to the coffee shop, aptly named, ENNUI, and are sittingout on the sidewalk watching cars buzz up and down lake shore drive. The actual lake is just down the street, a shimmering deep blue sky reflector.

Then up comes the bum. He has the distended stomach on a skinny body that screams drunk. He is mumbling something, then takes it up a notch and starts screaming, "This place is bad!! This is a bad place!!"
I can only assume they throw him out a lot.

"OH, shut up and move on." I yell at him.

This stirs him up. M. is looking as mortified as the woman at the only other occupied table as the Bum goes ballistic and screams and rants and slobbers.

I get up, walk over to him, grab him by his flabby tits, swing him into a brick wall. A couple punches to that distended liver of his and he was puking blood all over the sidewalk. Passing dog walkers were kind enough to let their pooches lick up the blood -- because that is just the kind of neighborhood we have, we take care of our own. Unless they are annoying. Then, well, isn't it better that we send them to hell, where that bastard satan can be annoyed by them???? M. wouldn't buy this logic either.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.