The Most Interesting Person in the World

Archive for the ‘Art’ Category

Awww… look at the cute little…

Ahhhhhh! It’s got freaky red eyes! And legs that look like it’s about to attack!

I wouldn’t go near this thing. See how it overpowers that tall grass? It’s obviously taller than any human! And it looks carnivorous!

And then there’s that time that I joined that cult, and everybody held hands in a circle around a fire (or was it hundreds o mini-fires?), playing music and singing about the Peace LoveRainbow in the sky. Our leader was name Peace LoveRainbow, and sometimes he would disappear and become a spirit that would hover above us. This much I know is true, because one time he pooped on a really high statue of a pigeon.

I’m going to pause while you picture that.

In the end it didn’t work out, because Peace LoveRainbow had to go back to the spirit-form he came in and stopped manifesting as human, and after that his nephew took over the cult, but he was always squabbling with one of the love slaves who later turned against him and started her own cult, and a bunch of people left to join her. The LoveRainbow’s nephew got depressed and couldn’t hold down the cult anymore (he said it’s a lot of work), so that’s when I gave up and went back to getting a regular job.

Her cult is doing fine, though. Last I heard they bought some land in Australia (or did they just squat?) and are living there now. Occasionally, I wonder where I would be now if I had gotten along with her better. Only occasionally.

Gather ’round, children. Let me tell you a tale, a yarn that will scare the marshmallows out of you. So hold tightly to your blankets.

There once was a great white noise. This audio-visual terror came with its own set of townspeaople, and overwhelm them it did. They wished so much the sun would set at night, and quietly, so they could get to sleep. So they hired a mercenary, a hero, to come into town and invent a new thing with his magic potion. This Eastern European mad scientist huffed and he puffed, and finally he created a darkness so dark and quietly loud (as opposed to loudly quiet) that it overwhelmed them all. Soon he got a book deal, and now he’s touring the talk-show circuit.

So that’s it, kids. A lesson in life management. There’s no time for questions. Finish your s’mores and go to bed.


“Okay, Mom, I’ll be down in a minute! Don’t rush me.”

My parents are always trying to control my life. “Don’t do this,” “Don’t kill that,” “Don’t get kicked out of there.” It’s always no, no, no.

Why can’t they start with a yes for once? “Yes, you can feed your hair live rats,” “Yes, you can pick on your little sister,” “Yes, you can turn Perseus into stone.”

And speaking of the guys at school… Why does everybody always stare at my tank top? My eyes are up here!

“Okay, Mom, I’m coming! Keep your head on!”

Hi. My name is Simon, and I like to draw objects.

Sometimes I draw graphic scenes of violence and murder, burning hands and crying tears and people locked up in stocks while onlookers throw eggs and tomatoes.

Other times I draw Pretty Princesses in bikinis, assaulting each other and freezing in the -4 degree temperature, shivering and blue.

My psychiatrist doesn’t like those pictures. She likes it when I draw things that don’t move. So I draw things that don’t move.

She doesn’t know it, but I draw pictures of her, after an evil Sorcerer turns her into a bowl of peaches. She is screaming in pain.

Little Froggie, Little Froggie, do you see me?

Or are you just staring at your own reflection?

Is it only cause you’re lonely, that you stare at me?

Or are you trying to be your own Mona Lisa art?

Many dreams have been brought to your water-cage.

They just lie there, but sometimes, get kicked up with the gravel.

Are you warm-blooded, are you cold-blooded, Little Froggie?

Or just a lonely, lovely, motionless, piece of art?

(Thanks to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, aka Iz, for bringing the song “Mona Lisa” into my head tonight)

It was so awkward watching these movers across the street trying to preserve my neighbour’s hotel. I’ve seen a house moved brick by brick, but they had to pack it up ice cube by ice cube.

At one point, I felt like going outside and telling them that when they try to restore the building in the new location… it just won’t be the same. But then a rerun of Arrested Development came on tv, and I forgot all about it.

Lady: I’m too tired and full of dead fish to walk home. Can’t my house justĀ  stilt-walk over to me?

Fish: Lady, this is a place where fish gotta fly, dead fish gotta swim, and clouds like to sing. But everyone knows that houses do not move. That’s just crazy.

Lady: Oh, house, stop staring at me with those big, glaring windows. Why do you taunt me so???

You ever have one of those days where you wake up in the morning to find that your hair has been replaced by an explosion of toothpaste, and fish are trying to eat it, but you don’t care cause you smell Wintergreen Fresh, and even though you don’t have eyes you can see psychedelic bubbles all around you, and you’ve lost your clothes but it’s okay because you’re wearing nail polish and your cheeks blush in perfect circles?

Yeah, me neither.

Thanks to Marta Ryczko for her hallucinatory contribution to this art blog.

We used to have a tire hanging from a tree in our yard.

Until the tire started eating people. It grew a centre, and from that centre spindly arms crawled out and started grabbing children as they went for an innocent swing ride.

Eventually, we had to take it out back and put it down. It was a tough experience, since we liked it so much, especially when it started eating neighbourhood kids we didn’t want on our lawn. So useful.

But, you know, these things happen.