I’m obsessed with this highly-accurate Hellboy 2019 collectible figure sculpted and painted by Hot Toys.

Finally got Geralt and Eredin, great figures by McFarlane Toys from a legendary game series.

Finally got the Killadelphia Vol. 1 and I am amazed with the mesmerizing art and storytelling by Rodney Barnes and Jason Alexander. Damn!

I have spent this weekend sitting on my sofa, reading Paul M. Sammon’s Future Noir: The Making of Blade Runner and eating cheesecake.

Feeling shattered from days and weekends of doing, being and going I simply needed to sit and switch off.
And that is what I did.

I read the news with my cereals. I had coffee and toast for lunch and 2 ounces of whisky and cheesecake for…well for afternoon loveliness.

I did not worry about going out the house, about cleaning, about being productive or useful. I simply indulged.

Around 3pm today, Sunday, I thought I would sit and start to write a post I have been meaning to get some words down about for a while, and I found that my relaxing had worked so well that my brain simply refused. I tried doing a little research, a little typing, but still my brain said ‘no’.

I don’t blame my brain, but I said to it, I have to write a blog post, I made a solemn promise to myself to blog at least once a week.

‘Tough,’ said my brain.
Fair enough, I thought, can’t really argue with that.


I miss the ancient art of making a properly executed mixtape.

Radical skepticisim is intellectual slavery.

Broke two fingers stopping a bar fight from happening.

My advice:
Be aware of your surroundings.
Have an exit plan.
Be friends with the bouncers.
The bouncers always win. There are too many of them, they’re prepared, and they fight like a team.
It’s like fighting Rome.

If you can’t stop it -lead it!


I say $50/hr is the bare minimum in the art world for bothering to lift a finger for any client.

I don’t think I could live in a place that made bad Negronis.

The monumental eagle - fabricated by Madero / Co. - is finaly in Los Pinos.

All of life is a continuous state of wonder interrupted by bedtime and the pursuit of snacks.

There was a time in my life when I would meet a man at a bar and I would take him outside and lay him on the floor, and I would beat him down to almost death. And… and the universe would reveal itself to me, and it was beautiful. And I felt part of every time and every place that had ever existed. It… It was my religion.

But now, it… It’s like a job.

And it makes me really fucking sad. And I don’t wanna get emotional, but, um, I’m having a hard time. But then, I read an article about the great Francis Ford Coppola. He said something that blew my fucking mind. He said, “I’ve not made an original film since the conversation in 1974. I am not sure I’m capable of it, but I really wanna keep trying.”

And then it hit me like a sack of bricks. Here’s a man who’s in the middle of his artistic decline… Is he running from it? No, he’s embracing it. So, I’m like… What am I doing? What if I embrace where I’m at right now?