Author: chris

i just posted the fecal house.  as the title may suggest, it’s rather disgusting, though, thankfully, not as disgusting as it was in my head.  laura says it’s also one of my most disturbing.  what do you think?  as an interesting side note, if you’ve read some of my other short stories (juan, this is not you), you’ll notice that i rarely use capital letters.  this is not an accident.  but the fecal house uses proper capitalization.  i did this because it felt right.  however, and here’s the interesting part, i didn’t capitalize the title when i linked to it from the main page.  this is an attempt to keep from giving my other stories a complex. …okay it’s only interesting to me.

i have found three more “no.”s (see the no. series) but haven’t yet gotten pictures of them.  i will.  i’m truly sorry i don’t have them yet.  but, in lieu of this, perhaps i could make it up to you with some hardcore nudity.

i found the story that was missing and posted it.  it’s called mother. 

along with the story i have posted a new picture on the front page (noconversation.com). i drew it on october 4, 2004.  you have no idea how much work i have put into it in trying to get it on my computer.  no idea.

i can hear the railroad crossing from my apartment.  it has been dinging for two hours and fifteen minutes with its arms raised.  even if i’m in the part of the house where i can’t hear it, i can still feel the bells clanging in my head.

as a closing note, if you were unable to complete the questionnaire that has been on the front page for the last month, do not worry! i too am a procrastinator, and will help other procrastinators in any way!  the questionnaire can be found here

this is true.

i was walking along the square the other night (where i live, this is where the majority of the bars are, and also where most college students go to get drunk and stagger about the street).  in front of me were two guys about my age.  one had his shirt off, revealing about five tattoos.  he chugged from a can of beer, one of those comically large fosters cans, and had “fuck you” tattooed on the back of his fingers and had two studs going through his cheeks, several earrings, and a few eyebrow rings.  when he finished the can he threw it into the street and cried, “fuck yeah!” to his friend.  at first i laughed, but then i sincerely mourned for several minutes.  i miss the days when tattoos and piercings were actually shocking.

i am reading moby dick for an american novel class. i was the only one to reach the middle of the book by today.  usually i’m the last one to finish something in a class, so this came as somewhat of a shock, seeing as how i wasn’t really trying to read voraciously and with unending vigor.  i’d just read once in a while, like i always do.  i also seemed to be the only one who didn’t incessantly moan about the cetology chapters, in which melville goes into detail about families and types of whales, what types of tools are used onboard a whaling ship, etc. that really had nothing to do directly with the narrative. they weren’t as bad as reading a biology textbook, and were sometimes even funny in a melville sort of way.  their complaining made me wish they’d all just be harpooned themselves and shoved under the water for a good ten minutes.

i was going to post a new story today, but i can’t seem to find it.  so instead i decided to give you these previously stated tales, one occuring in a college town and the other occuring in a college classroom.  i hope they will do, for now.

i just posted foot skin.  i wrote it about a month and a half ago in the middle of a two day storm.  constant raining.  maybe more than two days.  it is only mildly grotesque, despite what images the title might suggest.  of late i have been getting less interested in writing about things grotesque.  this is not to be confused with morbidity, which i still constantly think about and write about.  maybe this will pass too.  though i hope not.  i hope that grotesque aspects of my writing would pass, or at least take a drastic turn, for two reasons: one, it was getting a little old to write about, even if it was what came most naturally.  and two, i got sick of people reading stories and reducing them to “blood and guts” stories and nothing more.  nothing i post on my site has a message that can be gleaned by merely reading it on the surface.  calling it blood and guts is a cheap description that can easily be pulled by just skimming it.  come on people.  they aren’t that fricking long.

i just posted lunar landscape.  i wrote it about a week ago in front of the fredericksburg post office at about 1:30 in the morning.  i had just been at a gas station where i saw a guy in handcuffs shooting the breeze with two cops, who only seemed worried about getting their coffee cooler.  i wrote it at the tail end of getting over having my wisdom teeth taken out (all four).  24 hours previously, my last codeine had worn off after having taken it every six hours for five days.  withdrawal.  heavy withdrawal.  and little sleep.

so this is what 7:08 am looks like.

let’s get to the new posts first.

i posted the no. series tonight, a project i had been hoping to complete for around two months.  it is complete, as you can see. perhaps you should read the link entitled “about the no. series” either first or last.  i’d recommend last; it would make the viewing of the images much more fun. that’s why i put the link last.

i also posted a new overgrowth image, overgrowth (five).  there is no “about overgrowth” for that project…if you don’t get it you’re stupid.

so, those are some exciting posts, yes? i’d like to think so.  on to other news: today i took a final for an english class.  it was the first time i was embarassed to turn in an essay.  it was completely horrible, not because i am incompetent at writing essays, actually i usually get rather good grades on essays, but because of the incredibly moronic essay prompt. this prompt basically answered itself, so left me to repeat what it stated five times in five different ways in five paragraphs.

then, i received my accounting final test grade: 57.  yes, the test i studied the most for out of the entire semester received a failing grade of 57.0.  this brought my grade down to a D, to 68.1.  though this is depressing, it does mean i passed, and it also means that i will never have to take such a useless and miserable class again.  this is the only fact that brings me joy.

on a side note: i am very angry that i did not create the title to the book i am reading.

on another side note: cigars are very nice. you should try a good a. fuente robusto.

i posted a new story last night: sunset.  and i’m working on another one, longer, better, softer, about a pig and mined ore bank. also i wrote one that i may have lost called footskin.  i don’t know…we’ll see if i can find it today. it must be somewhere on campus…i shall check the dumpsters first.

i am here!  i am not dead!  i post again!

i have updated my site…triumph!  if you do not know the address…i forgive you! it is www.noconversation.com, an address you should never forget!  the update is a questionnaire of great importance, please fill it out and send it to me.

the questionnaire came to me in the seconds before sleep, so i had to wrench myself away from my warm bed and write write write it in my journal.  necessity! triomphe!

two tests today, both awful, vomitous, wretched…and this is the aftermath, les detruisez.  tout est damne!!

sometimes i get that ‘not so fresh’ feeling.