working on some new stuff. printing stickers and such.
I have a new blog for photography strictly. kevinbetschphotos.blogspot.com
check it.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The works of Utopia Frederick
On Drunk Driving.
I AM SUPERMAN. I FLY AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
That is the way I feel tonight, at least. It's been another night under the bottle, the influence of heaven is soaking into my stomach. My liver can take it, at least for now. The lights are simply blurs, swirls of color. Nothing more. Nothing less. I see flashing blurs of red, white, and blue. I think of America, I pray it isn't the police. I have to be over the limit. and in this state that is under arrest. At least that is what the blinking signs say on the highway. By this time I am going at least 90 miles per hour. It feels so smooth, just as the whiskey I consumed earlier. Smooth and tasteful. Until tomorrow morning when it all comes back to me, sour spit, straight to the bowl, down the drain, cleaned off the bathroom floor. Bathroom floor is what I am hoping for. I haven't felt so alive in years, or more dead. I drink my weight in sorrows and my mind is cleared of all the wrong in the world. Everything in my bank account, my credit cards, my debt. Everything is nothing. Not when you feel this empty, not when you feel this full, of cheap liquor and bar nuts.
I AM SUPERMAN. I FLY AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
That is the way I feel tonight, at least. It's been another night under the bottle, the influence of heaven is soaking into my stomach. My liver can take it, at least for now. The lights are simply blurs, swirls of color. Nothing more. Nothing less. I see flashing blurs of red, white, and blue. I think of America, I pray it isn't the police. I have to be over the limit. and in this state that is under arrest. At least that is what the blinking signs say on the highway. By this time I am going at least 90 miles per hour. It feels so smooth, just as the whiskey I consumed earlier. Smooth and tasteful. Until tomorrow morning when it all comes back to me, sour spit, straight to the bowl, down the drain, cleaned off the bathroom floor. Bathroom floor is what I am hoping for. I haven't felt so alive in years, or more dead. I drink my weight in sorrows and my mind is cleared of all the wrong in the world. Everything in my bank account, my credit cards, my debt. Everything is nothing. Not when you feel this empty, not when you feel this full, of cheap liquor and bar nuts.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
New Works
SoI have been painting (not too intensely) and I have some work to hang at a coffee shop called Tazza Mia, located in West Chester Cincinnati, I hope yu guys go and check out the actual works instead of going by these lousy digital photos. Let me know what is up.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
peterotica
ok, so this guy was working in a comic book store. and this totally hot cheerleader walks in, a girl cheerleader. and she says "hey do you mind if i get all naked and stuff?" and the guy was like "oh yeah, that sounds pretty swell to me." So she's all naked and stuff and starts to get all hot. so she kisses the guy all over his face and neck and stuff and then feels on his junk. he starts feeling on her big boobs and stuff. she asked him to take off his clothes, so he did. and then they totally did it. yeah.
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