Eric’s Weblog

A light - craven,
Brightly dwindles.

A boy like honey
Once loved a girl like lava.
Now they’re both sweet stone.

Look at the window,
Your reflection, then the world.
One of them is real.

Another sketch comedy video by The Knife Parade.
We made the top 15 in this film racing competition,
Click here to vote for us!

Another video by my sketch group, The Knife Parade. My only contribution was being nit-picky during Sydney’s writing process, but I’m really happy how this turned out.

Listless floorboards,
Scatty halls,

Cornice sagging,
Ornery creaks.

Winking doorways,
Censored windows,

Basement sweating,
Breathless preserves.

Obtrusive stud,
Barren corner,

Careless backfill—
Foundation spent.

You eat one goodbye
And crap out fifty hellos.
Smile, you’re still alive.

I look left, then right,
Two seasons know each other
Because I see them.

We found out late about this sketch comedy contest on YouTube.
Here’s a last minute submission my roommate and I cranked out.
It had to be about a road trip and include a musical instrument.

I haven’t updated my blog recently because I’ve been in prison. Now I know what you’re thinking: don’t they have internet access in the clink? Of course, but you only get an hour per day on good behavior. It’s a nightmare.

Sure they have magazines, conjugal trailers, and all the weights you can lift. Sure there’s the constant excitement of gang violence and rape (or is it the other way around). Sure it’s the first time I’ve lived rent free with three square meals and full medical coverage since childhood. But come on, one hour of internet? And the server’s so slow you barely have time to watch Future Weapons highlights and a few porn clips, and bam! Game over.

Plus, who’s on good behavior in the crossbar hotel? Isn’t our lack thereof what gets us imprisoned in the first place? Let’s face it, you take one look at me—5 foot 6, wiry like a weasel, pale as silk—I might as well have trouble tattooed on my forehead. Then it gets around the jail-yard that I’m the guy who took out Mecha Godzilla and suddenly everybody wants a piece.

That’s how this whole thing started, really. Remember how I tore out Mecha’s heart and had it recycled? Pretty cool finisher by the way, you should learn it. Well the thing is, I was kind of drunk with rage and blood loss… and alcohol after the fight and I accidentally mistook the Statue of Liberty’s head for Chumpzilla’s heart. They’re both big, metal, and covered in spikes, how was I supposed to know?

The story goes they found me in a coma with the old lady’s giant head sitting outside my apartment covered in my blood and fingerprints. Kind of hard to alibi your way out of that one. No sooner had I snapped out of my coma than they were slapping the cuffs on me. I only had time for one epic blog entry then that mystery nerd started gaying things up again. One of these days I’ll make him pay for using my blog to express his feelings…

First thing’s first, though. I had to get out of statesville. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to miss Thursday Yoga, and I was actually starting to put some money away with their work program, but without my digital life I felt like only half a man. Nobody ever tells you about the dark side of prison… you just have to live it for yourself.

So I kicked prison’s proverbial neck—in this case being the actual neck of a nearby prison guard—grabbed some keys, took a few measly bullet wounds, and made good on my escape. Then, like every man fresh out of the cooler, I followed temptation and got inside the nearest, nastiest internet café I could find.