Level White Bag Of Dicks

Level White not impressing me with your horrible poetry and tacky videos. If this is what you feel is the standard for art than I want no part of your white world. You say that white contains every color but I don't believe you, all I see is bland, uninspired flash art. You feel you have the authority to see good art? I haven't seen one shred of evidence supporting your claim. You say you want to connect with the world, but not the whole world, just the part of the world you deem is positive, artistic and commodified enough. You want an elite society of snooty artists to basically shit all over the art world. Your level white is dirty and tainted. I can't take advice from a grown man in a shiny silver track suit and Kanye glasses. Your trophy girlfriend isn't fooling anyone. You are out of touch. You remind me of a shaved Ricky Gervais with absolutely no real talent, sure you programmed myspace but you wouldn't be able to see real beauty if you tried. This might seem negative but there is one positive thing for you. For you Mr. Level White with your fractals and your fiber optics. There is still one award for you. We would like to present the award for the uber-exclusive position of worst person I have ever met. This goes to you good sir, you are the worst and one day I hope to be part of the brown smudge that ruins your perfectly white world.

CCP015-Parrots and A Purple Horn

Drowning out the parrots with a loud steel drum. I look up at the sky, straight up and see the parrots flying by. They are worth thousands of dollars. If I caught one I could pay rent but I don't have a net big enough and I'm not limber enough. The sky screams with the anger of a thousand disturbed parrots. We grabbed his purple horn and pointed it straight up. The blast scattered these creatures all across Sierra Madre. The miners took noticed and started burning coal. We had no idea this was the signal they were waiting for. Steam began to rise from cracks in the pavement. We sniffed the air. This wasn't clean air at all but noxious fumes squeezing through the cracks. Gasping for air and seeking somewhere cold to escape the great heat from below. We scatter across the landscape. Throats closed, eyes burning, tears turning to crusty salt deposits, all this and no relief in any direction. Pretty soon orange drops of some kind of liquid were trickling down from what was now a burnt Sienna sky. The drops burned on contact and began to eat away at our skin. Only people in windbreakers were spared but for their faces. Holes eaten away in their cheeks exposing cheekbone upon cheekbone as far as the eye could see. We fucked up blowing that horn and this is all our fault. If it weren't for that cruel urge to disrupt the parrots then the coal wouldn't burn and our faces would still be intact

CCP014-The Current Goes Back and Forth

Stepping out of the elevator we immediately came upon a sea of white trash. Wading our way through with almost brass knuckles and dead eye stares. We watched the board for the right time and we didn’t find anything. Wading through the sea again we ducked down an alleyway. The light bouncing off the grays and whites. A man in the corner eyes us suspiciously while he smokes a cigarette illegally. His eyes switch from you to me and back again. He can see we are connected in a way he has never seen and the communication is full and complete. The conversation never ceases and never bores. Sleeping next to you is always a better option than not sleeping next to you. The rest is peaceful. The rest is short. I splash water on my face before I go to bed and watch the water drip off the tip of my nose into the sink. Some say the water spirals the wrong way down the sink but I have to disagree. The water’s just fine. I think about nothing as I fall to sleep and my mind is alive with everything I suppressed the night before. I wake up fresh and know that I want to lounge out on a couch and turn up Rocket 88 until the windows blow out. I can sit with you for hours. The words wafting up into the ceiling fan getting spread around to every corner. My voice carries and you tell me we might get into trouble, but we really don’t care. It’s only a formality. I have plugged into your psyche and the current goes both ways.

CCP013-The Last Halloween

I go out trick or treating and I hear some rumor about razorblades in apples and poison on the candy. I go door to door putting out my hand, waiting for the prize. I tug at all the ill fitting parts of my costume. I wish my mom hadn’t given me a gun to carry while on this mission. I make sure the eyeholes are in just the right spot so I can see out but there is a little bit of mask blocking my vision. This sense of excitement, this sense of wonder, not knowing what your bottom half of the eye sees. I go up the walkway, ring the doorbell and put out my hand again and again. My bag gets filled every time. The other kids all have the same candy from the same neighborhood. I make sure to smell the inside of my mask and wonder do other kids also love this smell? It rained last Halloween when my brother was born, my parents took me out anyway. They could feel my jealousy so they gave me a gun the next Halloween. I have to keep smelling to mask these feelings. Once more up the walkway, placing my hand out to grasp the loot. This was the last house and we started walking home. The sun had just gone down and my parents didn’t like to trick or treat after dark. Upon reaching our house I see my mom in the kitchen through the window. Hunkered over the stove just so we could eat that night. Maybe she has made something fun, maybe not. My mother yells at me to not eat any candy until after dinner. I think to myself “what does she know?” and I sit down on the floor with my legs spread and the bag between them. I start to separate my piles; one for chocolate, one for sour and one for sweet. I take one candy from each. The chocolate drips down my throat. The sour burns on the way down and churns my stomach. As I fall backwards I pop the sweet into my mouth, bite down, and feel the razorblade slice the roof of my mouth. I quickly pull it out of my mouth, my hand is red and as I fall backwards from the poison I realize the rumors were true.

CCP012-Face Slammed Ocean

Dragged bloody knuckled and battered through a city of salt only to bathe in a deep throbbing hum resonating from a giant spiraled tower made of coral. Out the top bursts a stream of thick salty water, more salt than water, no hydration in sight, just the constant thrum of the coral barfing out my name.

Bits of static strike at my head and the light is flickering in this dark basement, an electronic water drip spikes my attention every so often, I really hate this place but I have to call it home. Occasionally I hear trucks go by but I cant see out and its so infrequent I don’t bother calling for help. There is no light to tell the time, there are no sounds to tell the time, only bursts of backfire and truck rumbling. Sometimes I can tell its night but not very often.

I wish I was back in my coral prison, it's much better than the dank room I am locked in now. At least underwater I could catch glimpses of the Sun's rays darting in and out and in between the trigger fish. The orange coral trapping me under the waves. Breaking free from this prison would surely result in almighty doom. The waves pounding my face into the sandy ocean floor and scraping my knees on bits of stray coral. These are the things I face. My face pressed into the ocean, screaming into the sand. I can only think of a few things as my vision fades to black and I escape from my coral prison.

CCP011-Exploitive Employers; Go Fuck Yourselves

Hi I was just wondering if you are trying to get reported to the Better Business Bureau? Are you trying to get reported to labor enforcement? I find it completely ludicrous that you would demand someone work from 8AM-10PM and I hope this was a misprint but 7 days a week? You have to be kidding. Fortunately for you, you will probably find some sap to take this job who has no self respect, no dignity and no common sense. In this economy you are the enemy. I know these long hours are under the guise of "giving people more hours in this horrible economy" but you must know and I know as well that this is probably a salary position. The salary most likely will be too low and calculate to the employee losing money in the long run. This is a nasty tactic used in this "bad" economy to trick people into getting sucked into a job that overworks and underpays them. You and other employers are what is ruining the economy. When the work force is underpaid and overworked they are not putting money back into the economy because they both have no money or time to contribute to the economic structure in society. You may think you are getting away with this kind of behavior but just know there are people out there who know and understand your tricks and it will only be a matter of time before everyone else is clued into this, either that or employers like you will continue to do this and will eventually cause the economy to collapse. Thank You have a nice day and go fuck yourselves.

CCP010-We Hate the Hippies and There's Nothing You Can Do About It

Sitting in the dark room watching a children’s movie about the environment. They had to save the forest and we hate the hippies. For some reason we hate them yet this cause is just. So just, we barely pay attention. We had other things on our minds. We sank into the dark as if we were meant to be there. Grabbing any bit of material we could to hold on. We sank deeper and deeper into the landscape. The lights flickered behind us while a thousand hands went up and down. The windows creaked and cracked and we tried turning the cranks for a few minutes. Our hair had been blown back and we needed it back in place. This was the beginning and we had everywhere to go from there. So pick up your bootstraps because this here’s the wildest ride in the wilderness!

CCP009-The Night Never Really Ended

It's nights like these that I live for and it's mornings like this that I never want to live inside. I try for the life of me to grasp at something that isn't in a fog. Your words offer a glimpse of hope in this hazy lazy morning. I can't for the life of me focus on one thing but your words brought my attention to a sharp point. Once it was done the haze descended once again. My eyes feel heavy, my face heavier than usual. The night never really ended, we wouldn't let it.

Smoked a thousand cigarettes and watched a grown man unravel. Watched a grown man grapple at the lost pieces of his life while grinning like a child trying to pretend that he is on the right path. I heard they named a hot dog after him at the corner of Ventura and Beverly Glen. Right across from the Cadillac dealership that you grew up with as a child and followed you around the rest of your life in the form of an iconic music video. This building reminds you of the 50s and your childhood at the same time. I am listening to 50s music and driving down the boulevard trying to meet up with you to get some clarity in this lazy hazy day.

CCP008-Religious Apathy

What happens when you don’t have spirituality? People shun you is what. When you don’t have a god, people shun you. Not just the horrible god fearing kind but also some of the intellectual elite. This is where problems arise. This is when you have to get out. For god’s sake people who cares what I feel about everything, let me live my own life even if that means not caring about any kind of higher power or unseen forces. I am not blind and I can see right through all of that.


you might as well believe in star wars...

CCP007-Charge Yourself and Vibrate Higher

I cant be nice anymore, it’s not in me anymore. I don’t have compassion for the weak. But I am weak and all I desire is compassion for me. You need to vibrate higher to reach what you want and all these people have a low battery. I’ve been recharging for years and am ready to reach new heights. Worrying about the fall after the vibration is a grave mistake, it will only make you anxious, we don’t want that. We just want you to be nice and compassionate. We need your good graces and your understanding, so fucking charge yourself and vibrate higher!

CCP006-Show Me Your Lungs, Show Me How You Breathe!

It felt like taking a breath of fresh air, this new thing we have discovered. Like walking through a brisk October night. Letting the crystalline molecules fill the lungs. The light bounces off cars and it is almost dusk. These kids just don’t know how to party anymore. They just skate in the street and yell curse words into the air. I have been here before, I have done this game. I have kick flipped into a house of my own with nothing to show for it, but at least the air is nice and the lighting is good and I don’t have to think about trying too hard until something comes along and gives me a hard shove. Then it will be like taking a breath of fresh air in the shadows of the fall dusk.

CCP005-The Way Things Really Are

A square drips out of the corner and pixel tan builds on your face. The intertwined code of what’s happening doesn’t occur to you. All the things that make up this world never occurs to you. You like what you see and don’t care to analyze. You stare at the corner of the screen and it mocks you to investigate but you don’t care about silly things like “the way things work”.

We are all saddened for your level of intellect.

CCP004-With a Doo Doo On the Side

Are we girls at our best or are we just fucking it all up bro style, with a doo doo on the side and our gold earrings in, we could be anyone, we could go to any club, we could be the best person in all of Los Angeles, we could ride down the street with rims so big we would need child labor to spin them all night. With our arms hanging out the windows of the front doors and our friends bodies half hanging out the back, we own the night and we own Ventura Blvd and fuck all you little shits that get in our way as we barrel toward our own fates in the midst of a hot June night that will forever ruin us.

CCP003-Ultimate PeePee Party Greeting Card

i can't even write one of those! 'plato, shakespeare, einstein... they were great originals........... but nothing can compare to you dad! happy birthday to the first peepee I saw, your loving son'

CCP002-Poison Lizard Tears

Bowling balls sliding down a tripped out lane entering the mouth of some crazed madman from Texas who has eyeballs on his cheeks with blood dripping out of the puffy sides of his mouth. The cheeks are puffed up with blood and his tears are poisonous, just like that one lizard I saw one time on tv, it killed a bird I think. It sprayed it’s poison tears right in the birds throat and it died on the spot. I swear I could see that lizard smile. But back to West Texas where a group of acid fried and acid addled kids are piling into their cheap car to get their next fix, to get their next sonic boom. They saw pussy galore that night and jon spencer called one of them a child rapist, but it was a good thing.

CCP001-Tourism

The mexican sunset goes down easier when you are a rich white man sucking off the teat of the countries’ tourist trade.
Trading tourists for cash in the back alley just to get some cheap booze and a pack of cigarettes in these hard times. The tourists almost go willingly, I say almost because they really have no idea they now belong to Pablo Diaz the third. He might treat them well. He might offer them a better life, something they can look forward to, something that gives them reason to get up in the morning. Sometimes they stop to catch their breath, sometimes not.
Please dear god get your hands off me, I don't think I can do this work for you anymore. You have sapped my strength and you tapped all my resources. The needs of the people are given the cold shoulder and a blind eye to your grand scope of the world. God save their souls their gonna need those crutches.