The Parable of the Sockgod.

"And Sockgod said to the bunny bring me more followers, ‘Bah!’ And the bunny brought more followers."

Most of us know this great parable of the Black Vatican. For those of you who don't there is no explanation good enough to explain it, you just have to wait and ask us in person so we can show you the story. Sockgod progressed from just its small beginnings from being worshipped by the bunnies to having found true love in Sockgoddess, to having Sockbaby.

One of our new members of the Flock, Alter Grrrl, our Ambassador to the unholy Lands of California, brings us something new and exciting for the continuation of the story!
“Behold the legend of Sockbaby. Do you know where all of those socks go when you lose them in the laundry? They go to the Sockearth where the Sockpeople live. The Sockpeople are fallen, sinful bastards just like us and they need a savior too. Just as Jesus came to Earth as one of us, so he went to Sockearth as one of them. Through a strange cacophony of events, Sockbaby ends up in yet another world inhabited by demonic men in suits and good guys like Ronnie Cordova and Burger, and so the saga begins...”



Also it is another sad, sad day in the ministry for there might be a shortage on the Communal Drink of the Vatican. Yes you heard me right we might experience a shortage of tequila due to fucking capitalism. A lot of farmers are now burning agave fields to get ready to plant corn crops because a corn crop will yield more annual income for the farmers. I don’t blame the farmers, I understand they have to make a living and that is already hard enough without having a product that the price is at rock bottom levels. I understand that with corn they will have at least for a while a better means of living; I do however blame our capitalistic society that we live in.

“Capitalism is the Devil’s wet dream.” ~Ani DiFranco

Does the Boggie Man exist?

Nightmares have plagued my dreams recently. Well in truth if I remember my dreams they are usually the bad ones. I think it is coming from the fact I am getting myself worked up about a trip to Chicago that will be happening here in a week and a half…(crap is it really that soon?) I can never really remember my entire dream upon waking; just bits and pieces of surrealism that feels almost like half memories. Terror clutches my movements in the dreams, something is after me, I need to hide from something, but I can never remember what it is, or even if it is harmful. Other nights they are dreams about death, people around me dying, family members, uncontrollable sadness and sobbing. The details that I do end up remembering are things like I am carrying an orange basketball around in the snow, that has been slashed in half and is important for some reason, or the costumes used for behind the scenes, the look into the side wings where the audience isn't suppose to go are more elaborate than those for the audience.

Maybe Linus is right, I just need to stop eating spicy foods before going to bed.



I am flying out to Chicago to visit my mother on the 3rd of June. I will be there for an entire week, and already I am trying to plot my escape routes. Hopefully I will be able to steal away into downtown for a day, and spend time in Boystown, or the Greek or Indian section. Hopefully I will be able to find my old friends and hang out with them too. I am excited to see my puppy again, ok so she is going on 10, but she will always be my puppy. With any luck I will leave with money for fall tuition. It will be a week out of this state.



And just remember what our beloved brethren of Monty Python taught us:

“Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say: some things in life are bad. They can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse. When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble; give a whistle, and this'll help things turn out for the best. And...always look on the bright side of life...”

The Compu Dragon! Haha all shall fear me!

There are many other things I could be doing with my time this summer while at work. For example reading, homework and otherwise, but no I spend my time on game sites and horrible What is your...quiz. :-) I'ma Superhero!!

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Compu Dragon Your Superpower is Seduction Your Weakness is Cotton Candy Your Weapon is Your Poison Tentacles Your Mode of Transportation is Snowboard

What's your Superhero Name?

A Black Vatican Testimonial!

I, your beloved Alter Boi, have exciting news to share! I have been redeemed by his Unholiness the Pontifix Niger. You see for quite some time I was sinner in our Black Pope’s eyes; it was a sad sad thing. I hardly ever posted on my blog, my life had no meaning that I could find to share with others. But now! Now! I have seen the light, Alleluia! See being one of the redeemed is not only good status with the Black Vatican; it also comes with many benefits. Like what you might ask? Well, the chance at beatification, the chance to watch your hit count rise like no other! Now that I am one of the redeemed, I fully intended to live up to that title, I will witness and testify in the dark name of the Black Vatican forever more.

*raises left hand*
Blessings on all of you, of a squid, may it do you well in water!
Left Hand of the Black Pope
Alter Boi



On a much sadder note, I’d like to take this moment to pay respect to the cassette tape.
Really when looked at cassette tapes really weren’t that great in the first place: the tape player liked to eat them, they got mangled and tangled, and could snap in an instant. Dust was pure kryptonite to them, and they never really sounded as good as say vinyl or even CDs. Especially now that we have MP3 players running rampant, that can store as many songs as it would take probably close to 2,000 cassettes to hold, it is hard to see cassettes sticking around. This demise of the old cassette tape also means the demise of mixtapes. Somehow in my world making a playlist for a loved one, just isn’t as romantic as making a mixtape. So if you would all bow your heads in a moment of silence while we mourn the loss of our beloved mixtapes and cassettes.

Mass Genocide of the Earthworm People.

I have to question the earthworms when it rains. While growing up, we learned that earthworms come to the surface mainly for better foraging and mating purposes. As a little kid I didn’t care why so many earthworms were scattered about on the sidewalks, it was just cool. My friends and I collected the worms when it rained, usually not to save them; we had better plans than to save the earthworms. We’d take them for bait when we went fishing on the weekends down at the park pond, we flung them at the other girls in our class to gross them out, hell sometimes my friends would even just step on them for the hell of it. (I have to admit I did try to save a few earthworms in my time, but hanging out with the boys I did, it was pointless.)

Nowadays I wonder what cultural means does coming to the surface for the earthworm people mean. Most of them end up dead on the sidewalks. Have these earthworms been banished from their villages? Did they do something so horrible that their fate is to die among the giants? Has another empire of worms over taken there land and these are the left over bodies from the war? Maybe it is none of those, maybe this is a test, a rite of passage, a coming of age event. The new generation of earthworms are forced to the surface and told to fend for themselves. If they can make it back to the village then today, these worms become men…or worm-men. Maybe it is just the fact that our concrete slabs have confused them and they can’t find the rich soil they once buried beneath. Maybe this is a sign of my sanity being lost, or maybe just the fact that I am stuck indoors for most of the day and spend my time contemplating such things.
I think mainly, I just think too much.

Do you smell that?

It is fresh grass being cut.
Lilac trees starting to bloom.
Dirt mixing with fresh rain.
Sun-tan lotion mixed with perfume.

Windows are thrown open in response to the warm air outside, time to circulate life again. I’ve started my spring cleaning this week, even though it is now the start of summer. I’ve kept a lot of things from my past; things to cling to papers, notes, school grades (from elementary school). Most peoples' parents hold on to these things, but in my case I’ve had to hold on to these... thinking they might come in handy, that they might be important, but I have come to realize most of it is just clutter. Along with the moldy leftovers and cheese, along with the old magazines piling up that aren’t even addressed to me, I am throwing out my past. I am throwing out my history, or at least it feels that way. It feels as though I am ripping part of me out, and throwing it into the brown, crusty dumpster behind my building. Most of this crap is just that, crap, loose ends of a previous life that should no longer to affect me. I’m putting this extra baggage behind me, or at least the physical remnants of it.

There is still a lot of day-light left.
I think it is time for a walk before handball this evening.

Yup, it's that time of year...again.

I remember
preparing this week
for the final shot,
the last pose.

It almost didn't come
late in the week
on the way out of town,
chattering through coffee
we said goodbye in the street;
no photographic sentiment-
just
bites of words
tossed across an empty gutter;
my body swinging 'round
moving briskly through the rain.
-B.A.S. 4/4/07

I awoke this morning to a grey drizzle and thought, "What a great way to start summer break." As it tends to do this time of year the rain eventually turned into a light snow, huge flakes failing slowly to the ground wet and soggy. The wetness and irony of snow in May makes me smile. Goodbyes are hardly ever uttered between one another. It sounds to final, to much of an end for us to deal with. Last night was yet another graduation party for some friends, with massive amounts of fajitas, wine, and warmth. Two of my friends are off on an epic European Backpacking trip for two months, and then one of them takes off to the Peace Corp for two years, and the other will spend the next year in Russia studying. A night of massive Uno and trying not to say goodbye, there was a lot of “I’ll see you later this summer.” “We’ll write…call if you can.” I didn’t expect this semester to be quite this many people leaving, but then again I never do. I never expected to find such great friends. But as it was said last night, This is just another beginning, another adventure.


Every once in a while my father surprises me by sending me e-mails that aren’t just random forwards. I thought this one was appropriate for the time of year. It is Steve Jobs giving a graduation speech.


So I agree, stay hungry, stay foolish on the way down these adventures.
As I will be drinking tonight a toast:
To new beginnings and old endings, to new found friends, old and dear friends, absent friends, and to those we always hold in our hearts.
May your hearts be happy, and hugs be readily availble where ever your travels take you.

Blurred Moments.

We spend so much time trying to reclaim our youth. Trying to recapture moments of childhood, when everything was easier to understand. Time is spent grabbing at pieces of memories taking the chance to retrieve our lost innocence. My moments were spent making up for lost time this weekend, taking in breath taking moments of brilliance and beauty from those around me. A night spent in the 80’s of bad hair, even more horrible clothes, too much ballad rock, and a moment of our song.
“Help me to decide
Help me make the most
of freedom and of pleasure
nothing ever lasts forever
Everybody wants to rule the world”


The stars were out in all their glory, as the group raced along asphalt under feet, and under tired rubber and metal to a moment taking place that was bigger than any of us could hope to be apart of. A night spent under cardboard boxes, a night spent in a displacement camp. This is our movement; this is our time to make a stand, to make a difference. I always said when I grew up I wanted to do something or be apart of something that will change the world, I have found that it is not one great big event, for some people it is, not me. It is all the little things that make the difference.

Scavenged bagels and fruit filled our stomachs and warmed our bodies from the night before. The morning sun came over the horizon kissing our skin awake. There were a handful of kid things I kinda missed out on. Either I wouldn’t let myself be a kid, or I just never did. After we disbursed from our make-shift refugee camp, we spent time in the grass; our only care was when the zoo opened. Bubble kisses and tree conquering make for the perfect Sunday morning.

There is nothing out there to the best of my knowledge, except the moments we make and the friends we take a long with us and let in.

*note: most photo credits go to Mary