Ridiculous Sister

talking to stoners while eating spaghetti

2012-02-04T22:02:00.003-08:00

A new dress

2012-01-29T15:58:00.000-08:00

I got a new dress recently.

It is a long, theatrical plum-colored dress with a velvet collar.

Basically, it screams "murder me!"

While others certainly felt the impulse,

they were all too polite to pick up the knife,

so I took up my pen and murdered myself on paper.

and the dress is perfect for the occasion.

2012-01-22T23:44:00.001-08:00

dream:

2012-01-21T11:44:00.000-08:00

Someone very aggressively asks me what my favorite Elliott Smith song is -

I yell that my favorite Elliott Smith song is Brazil by Arcade Fire.

2012-01-18T19:50:00.001-08:00

"come puff with us"

o o- - - - - -

>- - - - - - - - - ->>B

- - -v- - -

join the Puff Club, yo.

pizza

2012-01-14T00:29:00.000-08:00

I went to get pizza with my buddies Monica and Cameron, but they only accepted cash!

So Cameron flew off to the ATM on his tiny skateboard that looks like a roller skate

while Monica and I doodled while we salivated about pizza.

pizza

pizzzaaaaaa

Kids with sticks

2012-01-06T14:00:00.000-08:00

A conversation I had tonight with a little kid in a taqueria, after I walked in with a small branch I carried with me from the cemetery.

boy: "can I have your stick?"
me: "sure, take it."
"what's it for?"
"I dunno, its good as a walking stick. Or for hitting strangers."
"why would I do that?"
"well, only if they deserved it, I guess. You know, evil people, people who've wronged you...."
"hmmm..."
"But don't poke anyone in the eye. No eye poking."

(aside)
Ben: "oh my god, Hallie, you should never talk to kids."
me: "he's awesome though!"
ben: "hey see? You met a man!"

Boy: "so.. where did you find it?"
me: "I got it from the cemetery."
"the summertary?"
"yes, the summertary."
"it's a really long stick."
"yep. and it's all yours. Go crazy."

boy, smiling, walks away with stick.

(moments pass)

the boy's mom, heard across the restaurant: "who gave him a stick!?"

Acidcats

2012-01-06T00:33:00.000-08:00

Bernie and Darrel

Acidcats

B: "remember?"
D: "...what?"

Bag people

2012-01-03T19:36:00.000-08:00

inked some people on the back of a Blick bag after I bought ink from Blick.

i guess i forgot to get paper.

my favorite of the bag people:

this hot mama

and this miserable little child.

Christmas morning

2011-12-26T00:19:00.000-08:00

after we all open our stockings and find toy cars in them.

Dad: “I got VWs for everybody. Hopefully they run better than the real thing.”

Hallie: “mine says ‘peace and love’ on it.”

Dad: “they all say that.”

Ben: “no, mine says - ‘if this van’s a’rockin, kill everyone inside.’”

2011-12-19T22:14:00.000-08:00

photos from my travels have been posted on my flickr.

swimmers. cornwall, england

boy in the rocks. porto, portugal

Hans. Leibertingen, Germany

Why was I so relieved to see these photos? As if they proved my trip really happened, it wasn't all in my imagination.

Keep Bateman Weird

2011-12-13T23:33:00.000-08:00

Some notes:

I am back from my trip! It was a success. I will probably be more specific on that later.
I have a tumblr now: feralpigtrap.tumblr.com
I have too much blogspot loyalty to replace you, blogspot, so I have decided to pit my tumblr against my blogspot and see what happens. I will post different things in each one. Almost like I have a split personality. Or 2 of the same vaguely annoying personality. Yay!
blogspot is better though
pause

Now, a short story:

My dad is writing a column about our christmas "tree" - a manzanita - and tonight he needed to take a picture to go with the article. I volunteered not only to be in the picture, but to dress as The Holy Christmas Spirit to make the picture more interesting. I was dressed stunningy in red velvet and green frills, with heavy rouge on my cheeks, grinning hugely. Drool didn't come out, but it would have if I hadn't been tilting my head back and to the side. I forced Murphy, our comically handsome golden retriever, practically a satirical dog, to pose with me as I hung a Christmas ornament of a hideous witch ("where did this even come from?") on the peg of our manzanita christmas tree.

{Manzanitas are actually bushes, I think. but they don't exactly have branches, kindof just twizzly pegs.}

Anyway, my mom was off to the side, watching this whole spectacle with a concerned, slightly disapproving expression. "I don't know if it's a good idea to have this in the paper..." she said.
My dad and I stopped laughing and looked at her.
"Seriously, mom?!" I shouted, dropping the poinsettia flowers I had been cradling in my free arm. "Are you worried about how our family might look?"
Nick walked in and backed me up: "What are you talking about? This is great, mom! She embodies everything that Christmas should be! What better place than dad's column would this picture belong?"
Secretly I thought ten or twelve billboards scattered prominently around the county might be better, but I held my tongue.

My mom stayed quiet for the rest of the photoshoot, but the damage was done. Hours later, still mulling over her comment and the prospect of our family being anything but proud of our eccentricities, I was prompted to visit a make-your-own bumper sticker website, where I prepared this design:

I'm still thinking it over. I don't know if I'm ready to click "check out" and have my stickers made. I mean, did it even work for Portland? Or were the bumper stickers just a sign of The End?

Crime and Cowardice in Weed, California

2011-09-04T17:06:00.000-07:00

Attention followers.
Several weeks ago I found myself at the wheel of a sweet little beige honda civic, nibbling on a slightly stale donut, glorying in the combination of speed and danger and breakfast pastries. I was going 85 in a 75 zone on the freeway as I passed by the stunning metropolis that is Weed, Califronia. Before I knew it, police lights were flashing in my rear view. I immediately slowed to about 55, almost teared up, screamed to my brother Nick "OH MY GOD THE PIGS ARE COMING FOR ME I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN OH MY GOD."
While the details of my encounter with The Law (and my personal humiliation) are not suitable for publication, suffice it to say that it did not go quite so well and I was given a citation and charged a fee and sentenced to traffic school.

I immediately fled the country altogether. I am running from my punishment just as I have run from small children, the mere prospect of square dancing, and charging billygoats. I have determined that I must find a country that can accomodate my Need for Speed. I will be traveling throughout Europe for the next couple months and will likely not update too often (I don't want to risk the police tracing my location.) BUT in the meantime, you can take a look at my sparklish new website which now fully exists just as much as the next website! But is better about it. More chill. http://halliebateman.com/

contiuous doodles

2011-08-15T21:35:00.000-07:00

I got a huge long roll of computer paper at a bargain bin the other day and I've been doing continuous doodling on it. Yep, I'm the hunter s thompson of doodling. Here's a few excerpts.

2011-08-13T01:52:00.000-07:00

happy 22nd birthday, Hallie!

2011-08-03T15:33:00.000-07:00

A thoughtful little birthday card that my Cynical, Wisecracking Self made for my Self. How sweet!

#1 Grandpine

2011-07-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

sketchbook series

2011-07-20T15:56:00.000-07:00

A Calmic

2011-07-17T18:10:00.000-07:00

I am feeling very calm today, so I made a calmic.
(ha-ha! you see what i did there?)
(click for readability.)

BOOKS!

2011-07-11T17:51:00.000-07:00

Sean Adams (a writer for Bygone!) recently commissioned this piece for his lovely girlfriend Emma, who is an aspiring librarian. Now that her birthday has passed, I can finally share pictures!

before color:

I was so excited to draw about libraries! Although I had traumatizing childhood experiences returning books WAY too late and invoking librarian-wrath, I still love libraries. You are almost guaranteed to encounter someone like you in a library, or someone you like, even if its just someone in a book. It was fun to just think about libraries more and imagine what Emma must love about libraries, since she wants to spend her life in them... The one thing I knew she must love: books!

after color:

I loved adding little details to all the books and imagining what they might be about. An ink blob caused the big black book to the left of the window... Although it was initially a mistake, I was fine with it because I imagined it was something creepy and awesome like the magic spell book from hocus pocus.

Also: I also embedded framed portraits in the bookshelves of a few of Emma's favorite authors (and a few just generally great ones). They're pretty small but see if you can spot them and guess who they are!

the final version:

The whole piece took about 13 hours and was so much fun to make! Commissions are basically my favorite. I absolutely love creating something with one particular person in mind.
I am currently accepting commissions, so if you're interested, email me! hallie.bateman@gmail.com

a highly nostalgic friend-love-letter about nicole

2011-07-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

Nicole and I met in 7^th grade. She was new at our school, but immediately established herself as one of the smartest kids in our class. She wanted to be a pediatrician. I wanted to make movies. (She is now going to medical school; I make exclusively terrible movies.)

Some might have thought she befriended me because she didn’t know how uncool I was – nobody had warned her! But the truth is, unpopularity and bad haircuts never mattered to Nicole. She gave everyone a chance. Eventually our misfit friends formed a close group consisting of really brainy girls who ate lunch in the math teacher’s classroom and laughed a lot and talked about books and did lots of extra credit assignments.

She lived far away in a surreal little company town called Moccasin. I spent lots of summers with Nicole in that shoe-named place. I was fascinated by the mysterious town, its abandoned factory, Nicole's only-child lifestyle, her incredibly clean house. (The only messy thing about it was the sound of the clocks. They had tons of antique clocks, all slightly off sync, and each hour was marked by a strange and overwhelming flurry of chimes.)

In between hours of bad television and reading girly magazines, we would hunt for crawdads, spy on her neighbors, practice synchronized swimming in the pool. At night we would sneak off to the huge, vacant baseball field and run around in our underwear in the sprinklers, or to walk up the hillside and climb on the massive concrete blocks which connected the enormous water pipes that brought water down to the turbines.

I feel so lucky to know Nicole. She is incredibly kind and caring and hilarious and determined and growing up with her was just really fucking fun.

summer

2011-07-05T21:18:00.000-07:00

more envelopes!

2011-07-02T12:48:00.000-07:00

I made some more envelopes! Its so much fun trying to cleverly integrate space for address and return address.

student market

2011-06-24T14:44:00.000-07:00

the student market was a few months ago, and my lovely friend devon (left) helped me at my table! and kara stopped by to give me some bunny ears.

i did a bunch of potato portraits for $5 a pop. here are a few people with their spud-selves!

cassie

jack

claire

erika

letters for brother

2011-06-20T16:29:00.000-07:00

my brother, who is a big letter-writer, asked me to decorate some envelopes for him. here are some of the results:

2011-05-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

it's pretty important to have friends who will always let you paint their face, no matter where you are/what time it is. more on flickr.

Blushing Iguana

2011-05-09T00:31:00.000-07:00

Wow! Someone who commissioned a piece from me a while ago wrote a wonderfully kind post about it on his blog!

I am blushing, right down to my scaley spines of flesh that are sortof just hanging down from my neck. I'm going to go eat a bunch of lettuce and mashed bananas, then gaze at my reflection in the glass of my terrarium.

Notebooks

2011-04-25T11:07:00.000-07:00

so, i've been painting on moleskine notebooks & selling them.
and, white ink is THE MOST FUN.

Alder Arts walk comic!

2011-04-24T12:30:00.000-07:00

A comic I made for the back page of The Trail, meant to be an enthusiastic guide for the Alder Arts Walk.

2011-04-20T19:10:00.000-07:00

collaged notebook cover

moonniiicaaaaa

2011-04-18T02:58:00.001-07:00

MONNNNIIIICAAAAAAAAAAA

Drawn when it was really late at night

2011-04-14T14:40:00.001-07:00

Drawn during Zaixin Hong's chinese calligraphy lectures

2011-04-13T12:10:00.000-07:00

Drawn when i was in a music trance

2011-04-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

in the O.R.

2011-04-03T15:41:00.000-07:00

playing with new drawing tablet.

2011-04-01T01:50:00.001-07:00

I can't wait for summer

2011-03-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

I think about it e'rryday.

Hand made gifts

2011-03-11T13:02:00.000-08:00

The most memorable gifts are certainly those made by hand, and those that are really shiny and extremely expensive. I have been lucky enough to receive a few of the former:

The Pie Bandit, sewn by my brother Ben. The Bandit is a superhero somewhat like Robin Hood: he steals pies from other, less worthy people and gives them to me. Yes, that is a pie attached in his right hand. You can kinda tell, but he also has a cape.

My friend Kyle made this awesome sunflower entirely, it seems, from office supplies. The stem is the bent wires of a spiral bound notebook, and petals and leaves are the bent casings of erasers from pencils. It is one of the few sunflowers that can survive entirely without the sun.

My little brother Nick made this ceramic doll/rattle shaped like a little monkish-character. It fits perfectly in your hand and it makes everyone happy. I imagine if a baby saw it they would be really happy, because babies love rattles and it wouldn't fit in their mouth so they couldn't choke on it. I know babies worry about that a lot.

the story of Gnarlamange

2011-02-28T22:22:00.000-08:00

   Try as he might, Gnarlamange never enjoys himself at water parks. There are always tons of kids everywhere, who scream when they see him in his bathing suit, as their parents look disapprovingly at his abundant hair, which always dries really weird when he gets out of the water, revealing senseless bald patches and remnants of the many incredible cow-licks he sustained as a youngling. His claws come out when he is scared going down the big slides, and sometimes he accidentally digs them so deep into the plastic slide-siding that he just halts midway down and children, many screaming children, pile up behind him as the water continues to gush beneath them.
   "MOVE!" they scream, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING" because the point of slides, I guess, is to move. So Gnarlamange has to calm himself down so he can get his claws to retract, but who can be calm when there are seventeen 10-14 year-olds screaming at you with their freckled, sun-burnt cheeks puffed and wheezing with gargantuan child-anger?! When he finally struggles down a slide and drags himself out of the water, he has terrible traction on the tiles and sometimes slips and falls, and the life guard yells at him in front of everyone.
   Once, even, Gnarlamange was mistaken for a beach towel, and a horrible woman rubbed him all over her body until she was dry. She was jiggling and squawking at her children while she did so. He protested at first, then resigned himself to just wishing, with all his mental capacity, that a cranky swarm of wasps would mistake her swollen head for an enemy hive, and they would dive into her ears, in sharp military lines, straight towards her tiny brain: the doomed, bumbling queen.

2011-02-28T15:16:00.001-08:00

I have to tell you something...

2011-02-22T22:05:00.000-08:00

1. I'm now the Art Director at Bygone Bureau!
2. I've also been doing some writing & writing for them!
3. Douglas died in Hawaii after he fell into a feral pig trap and was gored to death. I'm really sorry.

story of an art show

2011-02-21T17:39:00.000-08:00

i made some things, it took many a day

in this little room, in quite a strange way

and now they're in this other room,

in this wonderful cafe!

The end.

this is my dog!

2011-02-20T23:38:00.001-08:00

he's goddamn cute. that is all.

Thank you, sweaters!

2011-02-18T03:05:00.000-08:00

This has been the longest winter ever recorded. It has been about nine years, I believe, since it has been anything but winter. I have survived mainly through never going outside, ever, but also by my collection of socks, hats and sweaters. I have immense gratitude for these things.

No, they do not keep me warm. I am freezing all the time. But they try.

I get very attached to sweaters, and wear favorites until the buttons fall off, or paint stains them terribly, or the threads start to come apart. I know a sweater will be a favorite if it is just slightly off - if the arms are too wide or short, or the collar is too tight, or if it just seems pretty ugly to me, but in an endearing way. Here are some current favorites.

my lady from the seventies sweater, which is great to wear while watching Harold & Maude, wearing orange velvet bell bottoms, dancing dorkishly, etc.

big green sweater. could fit 2 average people in it if necessary. or one average person with a backpack on. or one huge person and one really small person. or three really small people if one agreed he/she didn't care about arm holes. or a weimaraner (like in william wegman's awesome photographs). a universal sweater, if you will.

the wolf sweater, a classic, a work of art.

Chinless Portraiture

2011-02-17T00:04:00.000-08:00

Last year I took my friend Sara's senior portraits.

Sara: "make sure you don't get my double chin."
me: "got it."

But honestly, Sara is a fascinating girl. She likes spiders for some reason.

A letter I wrote to my friend's cat

2011-02-16T21:41:00.000-08:00

HAPPY VD!

2011-02-14T10:58:00.000-08:00

2011-02-13T17:33:00.000-08:00

Stuff I like

2011-02-11T10:49:00.000-08:00

illustrations by Brian Rea. I want to be in the mime club.

2011-02-10T10:54:00.001-08:00

2011-02-08T23:56:00.001-08:00

"I found ten thousand Canadian geese on a lake. Someone throws a stone: Gahhhhhhhhhh!!! You see? That moment is really startling. Great calligraphers in the past describe this same moment when they create a great piece of art." - my calligraphy professor.

after he told this story all i did in class was make flocks of geese out of blobs of ink.

Groooooove lounge

2011-02-08T01:20:00.000-08:00

My friend Eddie is a DJ and is doing a set at a "Groove Lounge" soon, so I doodled him up this guy for his flyer. I have no idea really what a groove lounge is, but I imagine it's a place where burnt out hippies reminisce through light dancing, moderate drug use and heavy archaic-lingo use. "Heavy, man!" and so on.

It's time to feed the fish

2011-02-07T20:32:00.001-08:00

Grab Your Wordfinder!

2011-02-05T00:55:00.000-08:00

Quick, look up the word "thesaurus" in your wordfinder! You might also look it up in your wordbook or synonym dictionary or, rarely, in your synonymy.

Brian, open the door.

2011-02-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

Hey Brian, pull over - looks like this guy's got some trouble with his bike. Yeah looks like he dented his tire and his paint job is kinda messed up. Maybe he needs a lift or something. Hmm... is he okay? Is he napping? He looks really tired. He didn't even take off his helmet. Haha, and he doused himself in gatorade - what an all-star! Aw cute, what kind of dog is that he's got with him? A bloodhound? A mastiff? Man, he's huge, he's as big as a bear! Look, Brian! Isn't that dog seriously the size of a bear?
Wow. God, I think I'd be a little nervous if I had a dog that big. But it looks like he's just sorta playing with him, huh? Just rollin' him around on the ground like that. Hey I've got an idea, why don't we go see if the dog knows any tricks? Here, I'll put some bacon in my pocket and I'll just step out and kinda walk towards him and look right directly into his eyes.
Brian, open the door.

(*art = an original sketch for this article)

making friends at the beach

2011-01-28T01:21:00.000-08:00

This is Shelley. She's hilarious. The whole time, she was like, "ahh there's sand in my eyes!"

We also hung out with this seagull. His beak is made of a crab claw.

(more photos on flickr.)

looking like things

2011-01-11T12:04:00.001-08:00

Hallie: Is it possible for someone to look Christian?

Alice: Yes.

H: Do I look like a Christian to you?

A: No.

H: Do I look Jewish?

A: No.

H: Do I look like… an atheist?

A: Yes.

H: Ha!

(ps. Alice can look you in the eye while looking at her own eye with her other eye.)

Winter

2011-01-06T01:13:00.000-08:00

the hillside behind the house after days and days of rain

down the icy driveway, peeking over the pasture fence

walking across the table-shaped mountain which is called Table Mountain,

where we watched for wild tables

but saw none.

aaand

me: awe cute! you have elbow patches on your sweater! Hold still, let me get my camera, I want a picture.

dad: Hallie, I'm on the phone.

me: they're so adorable, where did you get them? *snaps picture

dad: They put them on at the dry cleaners -- Hallie, let me talk, will ya?

mom: (on the phone): what?

me: Wait, did you specifically get them for style purposes?

dad: no, the elbows were worn down and this way you get a few more years out of the sweater.

me: wow... *snaps picture

mom: (on the phone): what?!

me: that's so great!

2011-01-03T11:51:00.000-08:00

sorry the format is really annoying. click to read them best, unless you have amazing, powerful button-shaped eyes.

Uh, Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T13:24:00.000-08:00

2011 will be a great year! I started it off by falling asleep at 8 PM last night.

The phases of "preparing an art show"

2010-12-30T15:05:00.000-08:00

phase 1: Shop for frames. Buy weird ones, big and small, from random antique stores and thrift stores. It will take several days. Claim that you must do this before anything else can be done.

phase 2: drive two hours to the nearest art store. Stock up on art supplies and $6/sheet watercolor paper that is completely worth it.

phase 3: clean out a room in the old house for your "studio". Scream and make faces all day at the dozens of spiders you find, like a hapless little girl. Shriek and run up to the house and get Nick when you find the big black one in the desk drawer. Feel free to exaggerate its size and coloration. When the room is finally clean, furnish with stuff found around the old house: old album covers, a swan-shaped vase for your brushes, candles, a lamp. Tack pillow cases over the windows to keep the heat in.

phase 4: burn tons of incense and stare at frames and paper until you can stand it no longer. Bring pen to paper. Produce 2 pieces and feel satisfied and relieved that you still possess some artistic ability. Or at least basic use of your hands.

phase 5: spend most of the day drawing and painting. Produce 3 more pieces, get excited, you feel some momentum gathering. Scream when you see that the cat has walked all over your $6/sheet watercolor paper. Draw stupid-looking cats over the muddy paw prints. Write "cats are stupid" next to them.

phase 6: Another whole day in the "studio". You're used to this now. Just relax and let ideas come to you and paint whatever you like. Say to yourself in a shrugging way, "eh, what the hell," Make it sortof your motto.

phase 7: sleep very little. Play Grand Theft Auto late into the night.

phase 8: realize suddenly that you hate everything you've made. Hold up one of your pieces and say to Nick, "maybe assholes would buy this." Gaze dejectedly at the glowing green lamp that looks like an incubating alien fetus.

phase 9: when your self-motivation and confidence betray you, choose a new adversary. Allow your resentment of cats be the solitary fire that drives you to continue. That paper is really expensive and you're not about to let it be covered in stupid-looking cats.

phase 10: write up list defining the "phases" you have undergone thus far in your efforts to prepare an art show. Do this to delay the terrifying task of actually continuing under these conditions. Try to remember your motto and the shrug that should accompany it.

Brother News

2010-12-27T21:08:00.000-08:00

My older brother Ben is biking up South America at the moment with his best friend, Sam. I've really been enjoying their trip journal and website which can be seen here: http://www.againwiththebiking.org/.
Because Ben has been gone for all the winter holidays and family gatherings, we created a paper mache version of him to fill the weird gappy feeling. While it's nice to have "Ben" around, he makes the dogs nervous and he's too quiet. Since Thanksgiving his health has deteriorated and he sits in a wheelchair now, with his head slumped forward a bit and his stuffing showing. Sometimes his hands fall off.
"He's so despondent" says Nick.

Premonition Tea

2010-12-18T15:23:00.000-08:00

Call only if you have something interesting to talk to me about.

2010-12-18T02:10:00.000-08:00

Found this note today in a book of Mike Royko columns I was flipping through at Culpepper's Books. The book must have belonged to John, who folded it neatly between pages 18 and 19. I wonder if he ever did have anything interesting to say? Did he ever call Jenny? Did Janet grin to herself while taking down this message?

I think yes, maybe.

2010-12-16T20:19:00.001-08:00

How the word "pineapple" can be used as a more authentic replacement for "pinnacle"

2010-12-14T00:59:00.001-08:00

^Example:

In the space between what the characters perceive and what the reader knows to be reality, we find the pineapple¹ of Carver’s story.

^1.Pineapple: A very postmodern term. Refers to a central idea which has one or multiple points (resembling the prickly outside skin of the pineapple fruit) and a substantial, fruity inside. This inside is not easily accessible, and isn’t completely understood, but is vital and important nonetheless.

2010-12-13T16:02:00.001-08:00

Marcel, Plagued by Birds

2010-12-12T02:29:00.000-08:00

   Marcel had grown used to the birds. In fact, they'd become integrated into his act. He'd keep bits of popcorn up his sleeves to tease them with, and he could count on them for endless tricks. They might collide in mid-air, fighting over a kernel, or squawk and twitter excitedly as he danced. They would animate the pecking tap-tap-tap of his shoes with wing-flutters and floating feathers. And all was good, and the laughs were golden, and the few kernels he sparsed out to them were enough.
   But one day, while performing a tap dance, Marcel felt their talons digging more earnestly into his pouffed sleeves, as if he was only made of popcorn underneath, and the squeaks became desperate (he was sure they were saying popCORN!!.. POPcorn!) and their beaks pulled frantically upon his hair as if they believed it could be unraveled, thread by thread, and popcorn would burst out and feed the whole flock of them, forever.
   Marcel kept calm at first and maintained his steps, carefully, as if balancing the birds would stave off their hunger. But soon the tapping became more frantic, finally exploding in chaos, without rhythm - pop-pop-POP-POpPOPpOP! His motions could not be contained! There was no longer order! And as he danced wildly, the birds pulled upon his billowing, expanding robes, and Marcel himself began to doubt whether or not there was anything beneath them but popping corn.

Introducing: The S'moreo

2010-11-22T01:16:00.000-08:00

me: "Do you understand?"

mom: "Yes. Can you hear me eating cheez-its?"

me: (long sustained laughter)

mom: "Oh! By the way, I've invented something. I could hardly wait to tell you. It's taken two days to perfect. It's called The S'moreo."

HOW TO MAKE A S'MOREO:

you will need:

- oreos

- marshmallows

- chocolate chunks (NOT chips, chunks)

- unyielding devotion to the joys of chocolate

instructions:

1. pull oreo apart, with the frosting on one side and the other side clean.

2. take marshmallow and cram it with chocolate chunks.

3. stick the marshmallow on the frosted half of the oreo and stick the other half on top.

4. microwave for five or ten seconds until the top cookie pops off, then replace it on the marshmallow and microwave it for five or ten more seconds until the marshmallow fuses perfectly with the frosting, achieving "the best taste sensation you can imagine".

5. congratulations! you have made a s'moreo! how does it feel? somehow disgusted with yourself?

6. well, thank my mother.

7. and keep it to yourself. this is going to make her a very wealthy woman.

2010-11-21T12:52:00.000-08:00

i make this face all the time.

Interview: Stapler awarded important fellowship

2010-11-19T22:29:00.000-08:00

HB: congratulations, what do you plan to do now?

Stapler: Thank you. I am really hoping that this will allow me to pursue my dreams, outside of just stapling things.

HB: Like what?

Stapler: I want to be a ballerina.

HB: These pages are loose. Could you staple them for me?

things i saw today

2010-11-12T00:36:00.001-08:00

____________________________

A dark-haired child in a red onesie running full speed on the sidewalk just before the stop light between the tanning salon and the blockbuster. He darted quickly into an alley.

____________________________

An acquaintance on her front steps, smoking a cigarette with her headphones on, hand in pocket. It had been raining, or was raining slightly. I stared at her through the red light because I was stunned and had never seen her look like that before. She was like a different person, and sad in a way that I wasn’t scared by.

____________________________

A couch half-submerged in leaves which were glopped thickly over someone's whole front yard. It looked like 3 trees worth of leaves, and one living room’s worth of couch.

____________________________

In the cancer society thrift store and I was trying on an R.E.I. flannel in the mirror. The sleeves were too short but I cuffed them. A middle-aged blonde woman in a striped turtleneck sweater was looking at me. I thought she wanted met to move my stuff, but she said “No, I was just thinking, if she doesn’t buy that, I will!”

I laughed. As always, after she said this I just wanted it more and I was protective over my find.

I folded the shirt on the chair and kept looking around. The woman was there with her daughter who was about 6, and her own mother, who looked about 60 or a little more.

“Do you know any people who wear pants but no underpants?” the 6 year-old daughter asked. They had just been talking about whether she could buy a ridiculous, heavily sequined hat patchwork hat, but had decided that the sequins would fall off and go everywhere.

“Yeah, some people do that, I don’t do that,” said the woman, “I don’t go commando ever. Do you do that? If you do, I don’t even want to know, child! I don't want to think about what that would mean – It’s like your sister. She learned to vibrate her tongue when she was little – but now that she’s 17, it’s like, that's something a mother worries about, you know?”

the girl tried to vibrate her tongue, “yeah, how does she do that?”

“I don’t even know!” said the mom, throwing her hands in the air.

I was leaning over trying to conceal my laughter in the next isle. I grabbed the flannel shirt and held it over to her. “I changed my mind about this shirt,” I said, “you should take it.”

She was surprised and tried to refuse but she eventually relented, and she tried it on, and got excited, and it fit her much better than me (“I have short arms,” she said) and the little girl said “it fits you perfectly!” and she said, “I know!”

B + W

2010-11-11T00:04:00.000-08:00

Katie and Devon at The Positive Outlook in near Santa Cruz. Taken, I believe, last spring.

2010-11-07T14:19:00.001-08:00

Hallie: hellooo!

Alice: Hello

Hallie: Hey there! remember me?

Alice: vaguely

Hallie:I used to babysit you when you were little.

You probably don't really remember me

I didn't have a beard back then

i'm a bit heavier set now

Goddamn.

You sure have grown up

You used to be such a little brat.

You seem like you're less of a brat now

But i can't be too sure, i've only been talking to you for a few seconds.

You used to take sips of my beers remember?

One time I just gave you a beer.

You didn't really like it….

Say, I'm having trouble finding a job..

You don't by any chance need a babysitter do ya?

Of course I'd have to charge you more than I did when you were 6

you're a lot more to handle now, if you know what i mean!

heh

heh heh

Alice: are you done yet?

Hallie: yeah.

how are you?

olympia

2010-11-06T01:00:00.000-07:00

by the ice box.

Fantasizing

2010-11-04T00:56:00.000-07:00

If somebody asked me where I want to be in 5 years I would just show them this picture:

Wait, no - no, whoa, oh my god, wrong picture, wrong fantasy. Sorry.

I would show them this picture:

Yes, this is where I'd like to be. a sunlit studio. drawings, notes, photos on the walls. (mine would be messier and would probably have a hot chocolate fountain). and instead of the guy in plaid, it's me hunched over the drawing table, in a sweater (or a dashiki), practicing my carpal tunnel and back problems.

and drawing.

The Garbage Pail Kids

2010-11-01T20:05:00.000-07:00

you smell them
before you see them:
two children,
unlimited joy and filth,
and one very magical dumpster.

Velour and cigarettes

2010-10-31T23:23:00.000-07:00

latest bygone bureau illustration for this article. inspired, of course, by my time spent in the mob.

acting

2010-10-28T17:46:00.001-07:00

I am an actor and I have been asked to play a cactus. To prepare for my role I did not pee for eleven days and then I was hospitalized. I said "am i on E.R.?" and they said no this is not ER. "Did I win an emmy?" I said, and they were like no. you’re in the hospital.

La Fiesta

2010-10-27T10:50:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago a friend of ours brought a pinata for my brother Nick as an early birthday present. They hung it in the back yard and Nick found a pole (a long metal one usually used to gather spider webs) and proceeded to beat the pinata on the ground to collect its sweet guts. I was not there, but as the story goes, the tip of the pole snapped mid-pummel and flung up and went through Nick's lip and he had to go to the hospital and get four stitches. I went home for fall break after hearing this story, and found this pinata hanging in the back yard from a clothes line wet with raindrops. He was using colorful streamers to soak up his tears.
"It's okay little buddy," I said, "Nick was trying to tear you open and eat your insides. You don't have to feel bad that he got hurt in the process."

Margaret's Ghost

2010-10-24T22:23:00.000-07:00

Although Margaret was flattered that her husband Louis had come all the way back from the afterlife to guide her through her final years, she didn't quite know how to behave around him since he no longer existed in his human, physical form. Now he drifted as a gray-opaque cloud, at the center of which was a gelatinous, floating blob (which, he clarified, was his soul). Sometimes she would look into the blob (his soul) as if it were an eye, but finding it quite unresponsive, she often chose to look at her hands, or the wall. Still, she was glad for his company.
All of their friends had attended Louis's elaborate funeral and memorial services, and had bestowed their greatest and heartfelt condolences to the widow. Louis's abrupt return to Margaret's side left everyone quite dumbfounded. Most of them, in order to save themselves the trouble of great existential vulnerability, simply chose to pretend that the gray cloud which accompanied Margaret to dinner, walks in the park, and social occasions, was just the traditional cloud of mourning which tends to follow widows about their lonely days.
Margaret knew better. And she knew that Louis's soul had little flecks of orange and yellow in it. She hadn't known that before.

2010-10-23T18:25:00.001-07:00

I wished for the horses and my wish came true

"too beautiful a dream"

2010-10-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

My Dear Angelita,
   A year ago you asked me to save you from being removed to the miserable province of Trenque Lauquen with your family. Because I loved you, and you leaned slightly towards me and touched my forearm while you asked me, I brought you to live with me on my turkey farm in the mountains. Here I thought we would be safe and live happily forever. But now I see that it was too beautiful a dream, Angelita. Too beautiful. And we had to wake up.

   When I kidnapped our “son,” Little Ricardo, from a wealthy family in town, I thought we made up the perfect family... I think Ricardito misses you, but also, he misses his original family. I think it’s probably just a phase. If I could get anywhere near my suppressed memories, I'm sure I would remember that it took me a while to accept my captors as my parents, too.

   I understand that the life of the turkey farmer wasn’t for you. Every day, the turkeys attacked you. There were endless chores. The people in the nearby village despised us. Ricardito constantly asked to be returned to his original family. And sometimes, the police came by. Yes, they were very suspicious… Yes, I see now. The life of the farm was very difficult for you.

   But, the farm is now strange without you. And I am strange.

   This morning I woke up in an empty bed, confused. Then I found your letter saying you had left. Oh how I chewed at the sleeve of my pajama shirt, buried as I was in the deepest woe. Ricardito came to me and asked,

   “Excuse me, where is the woman who cooks the food?”

   “Ah, Ricardito,” I said, with great sadness, “Your mother is not here! Our perfect family is shattered!” Ricardito left me in solitude, surely too upset to say anything. I sat with your letter for ten or twenty minutes. I read it ten or twenty times, with my mustache absorbing my tears like a kitchen sponge cut into the shape of a mustache. Then I started to read the phone bill. Were you making long distance calls to arrange your departure? Do you expect me to pay for these?

   Then I heard the remote screaming of the turkeys. When I ran to the barn, there I viewed our precious Ricardito among the turkeys, eating with them, playing with them… Evidently, our child, this boy without his original family, with no perfect family… he has a family of turkeys.
I will vaccinate him accordingly.

Everlasting love,
   Carlos

Less Teeth, More Wisdom

2010-10-15T21:50:00.000-07:00

Photo: Chris Bateman (my father) a distinguished journalist and humorist for over 30 years. I rarely take photos of him without first asking him to remove his false teeth.

Combing through the latest issue of my mom's magazine, or looking through my dad's columns from when he travelled around the world (he was that "our man in ___" guy for a while in the 80s), I realize how much they have accomplished, and how much I admire them. Coming from the bullshit-ridden love-dome of academia, I am accustomed to being patted on the back for the smallest thing, being urged forward with only the gentlest criticism (yay Liberal Arts college!). My parents can always be counted on for a reality check.

“There’s no such thing as writers block.” my dad said. “You think I could tell my editor, sorry, I couldn’t turn in a story today, I have writer’s block. No. A ditch-digger doesn’t say to his boss, sorry boss, can’t dig ditches today, got digger’s block.”

On the car ride from the airport, I told my mom I've been trying to "develop my voice" as a writer.

"Honey," she said, "your father and I make fun of people who talk about developing their 'voice'. Nobody cares about your voice. It doesn't mean anything unless you know how to write."

Sometimes I wonder why I shouldn't just scrap the whole college thing and learn a few things from them. I guess there's always remedial post-graduation re-education.

"College" discovered to be word

2010-10-14T02:27:00.000-07:00

I was recently editing an article by one of my writers (I'm the editor of the humor section at my school paper) and multiple times in the story, the word "college" was used. In one sentence, no matter how I changed it around, it didn't feel quite right. Then the more I looked at it the more I felt certain there was no such word as "college" at all, and it was slang, it wasn't even part of the english language, it was entirely fabricated by this shabby writer who thought it clever to use fake words. Miserable layman! Unacceptable! I thought. This is higher education journalism! Or... no: University Journalism!... no, that's not quite right...
So,
After looking it up in the dictionary and finding that yes, "college" is indeed a word, I was made to come to terms with the fact that I am a senior. English major. About to graduate from college.
And I'm not entirely sure that "college" is even a word.

God, I hope the registrar never reads this.

Sunday

2010-10-13T00:59:00.000-07:00

Excuse me, have you seen my wife? She went in to get coffee about fifteen minutes ago... She's rather short, dirty blond, a purple tongue. Yep, the kids take after her... Well, thanks anyways. Sure is rainy out here. Francis, stop pacing. Straighten your petticoat.

I keep playing with disembodied heads.

2010-10-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

Began to doodle this in advanced poetry as I struggled to write a sonnet... Still struggling with that sonnet. a/b/a/b/a/b/a/b/a/b/aaahhhhhhhh!

Some Photos

2010-10-03T15:30:00.000-07:00

A painter paints the ceiling of a Seattle parking garage.

Some gentleman with very nice voices.

Monica puts a hat on the stuffed dalmatian I've had since I was little.

1. Tea in Jars and 2. A Notebook Excerpt

2010-09-30T23:18:00.000-07:00

1.
If I have you over to my house for tea, and the hot water is ready, and I am just searching around the kitchen earnestly, and you wonder why I don't just use any one of the many clean mugs in the cabinet, and after all my rummaging I pull out a mason jar - know that this is a sign that I respect you, and you are very dear to me. When you pour tea in jars, you can watch it turn its rusty color and feel it very snug in your hands, and the shape is so much more natural than a glass, and if the water is hot enough it burns your hands just the same. It is extremely pleasant and it reminds me of home and it means I like you.

2.
Today was absolutely beautiful, perfect autumn weather. I sat with Caitlin in her back yard with lots of dandelions and slugs and paint and ink. Finally took some time to forget school draw and paint and relax and it was the greatest. I did some doodles in my red notebook, which is just where I write anything that I want to remember or just when I need paper.

the writing below the bird is from the time I tried to prove to Monica that all Russian names sound the same forward as backward. They don't really, unless you say them really really fast.

which i do.

Some early autumn sketches

2010-09-26T01:28:00.000-07:00

Did these tonight by the fire with ink and brush and in company of some friends and harmonica..

This last one is a friend's dog, Chaco, who is very wiggly and energetic and awesome. He is half coyote.

The Backwoods Heron

2010-09-23T18:15:00.001-07:00

Just a Preview...

2010-09-22T18:14:00.000-07:00

hey all! this is just a preview! part of a larger project I'm working on. This guy is a french hipster. Lets call him Pierre.

portrayed differently

2010-09-18T15:34:00.001-07:00

this cat is actually magic.

school supplies

2010-09-16T17:48:00.000-07:00

new school year: new shoes, new notebook, same old heroes.

Samantha's Life

2010-09-15T23:29:00.000-07:00

Samantha will do many important things with her life.

A Textbook Case

2010-09-15T22:05:00.000-07:00

Karen: Don, how am I to know you even love me any more?

Don: Why, Karen! I took you out to dinner not two weeks ago. What more is needed to express my marital devotion?

K: You never tell me I'm pretty any more.

D: You don't wear much makeup any more.

K: Did you remember to pick Nathan up from the laundromat?

D: How many times must I tell you, the laundromat is not the same as day care!

K: Stop skirting my question! You forgot to pick him up again, didn't you?

{Nathan enters}

Nathan: Hi mom and dad. Nobody got me so I walked home.

K: Nathan, sweetie. Why are you so filthy? Didn't you just come from the day -- I mean dry cleaners?

N: Well I walked home through the mud. And besides, I didn't have any quarters.

D: Son, I am so ashamed! I have failed to display my parental affection for you by providing you with money. I am such a terrible father!

N: You are.

D: Ha-ha!

N: You really are.

Trying to think of pleasant things to draw for my grandma

2010-09-13T23:33:00.000-07:00

mission: accomplished.

(not pictured: sea of clams and tide pool dwellers writing in horror before as they prepare meet their death in the talons of this horrible raptor... aaaaand.. artistry: intact)

Doggies

2010-09-10T10:48:00.000-07:00

i like doggies.

Nicholas Wickerbasket

2010-09-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

My little brother is one of my most favorite people in the whole world! Photo and face paint by Monica Hanson.

USE

2010-09-07T14:37:00.000-07:00

   This is a draft of a logo for a new, quite important organization my friend Monica and I have come up with. It is called the United Sweater Exchange, or USE. USE is designed for those who understand just how important sweaters are.
   Lets say you have 6 sweaters. One of them you do not wear so much any more because it is itchy and has lost its charm, although you found it very charming at first and endured the itchiness because of this, and although it does not make you happy you are sentimentally attached to it because it is an important sweater, and you can't really see just getting rid of it because suddenly there would be a hole in your sentimental sweater family.
   6 sweaters would suddenly be 5, and that would be hard on you and the other sweaters, and you would regret it forever and ever, and you'd be certain that someone was out there wearing your sweater and putting sauce on the collar or carelessly using it to dry off their wet dogs or something equally disrespectful, and these images would torture you for an eternity and you'd be up late at night hugging your other sweaters and tearfully trying to explain to them where the yellow one went.
   Here is where USE comes in! We provide a sweater database where you can exchange sweaters with someone in your similar situation, and the story ends with you having a new (to you) sweater that is special to you and charming and awesome. And you are comforted with the knowledge that your sweater has gone to a home where it will be appreciated and grow up to be a cape or a jacket (or whatever sweaters grow up to be). Although the organization is in its early stages, already, 100% of our exchanges have been completely successful.

I think our motto will be Keep Your Sweater Family Happy. Use USE.
or something to that effect.