Toothy babe

True beauty cannot be kept hidden.

Monumental Hand Job

Sometimes, it takes both hands to handle some big phallic object.

The Hand in early 2003

Early in March 2003, Joel met the Hand. Now he's living in Berzerkly CA, and is an out Heterosexual, and a Unitairan High Preist in Training. Hint of Dementia disavows any involvement in this "lifestyle" choice of his, but respects him for having the courage to admit his formerly latent Heterosexuality, if not his choice to become a man of the cloth.
We actually prefer black leather.

More Hand Job Momentum

The hand sometimes squeezes french Hobbit heads.
This is not one of those, although at first glance it appears so.

The Hand Strikes Again

We here at Hint Of Dementia Brain Stretching Research Labs apologize for that last image, it was in good taste, offered no gutwrenching wierdness or even a trace of sardonic and bile filled intent.
To rectify matters, we offer up the following images. Please accept our profound apologies for that moment of clartiy and beauty.

Sunrise, Kitty Hawk, December 2004

Sometimes it's worth getting up at dawn and walking down to the beach.

Don't tell me you're a dyke, Dude.

I been thinking about all those guys I've met who tell me they're really a dyke inside. I think they're full of shit.
You hear it a lot. "I'm really a lesbian inside" they say, but rarely do they ever think long and hard about how dumb that statement is.
They enjoy the hell out of sex with women, or claim to, and proclaim that this somehow makes them a lesbian. Right. Sure. Tell me another good story.
I love Mexican food. Does that make me a Mexican?
I want to know a few things when they say that.
Do they spend long hours doing things without penises when having sex? Weekends in bed having sex during the early stages of the relationship that don't involve them panting, squirting and rolling over and snoring?
Can they even imagine that sex is something that does not have to involve Tab A going into Slot B, programmed as they are with their errector set approach?
The penis is a fine thing, although I think it's overated. They can be fun and feel good, but they're attached to things that smell wrong to me, and are covered in stubble and wierd urgency. And they usually make a big mess. I've known a few in my life.
But I doubt few of the guys I know who claim inner lesbian status ever thought about what sex, or a life without a dick would be like.

Scary love

You should be scared if you're paying attention
the sex may be great, but so is the tension
she carves your initials in her arm with a knife
she fills your life with pleasure and strife
you never know what's coming next
she works without scripts, a text or a net
you would be running scared it it didn't feel good
but you think she might snap so you knock on wood
she's dangerous and dark
not a walk in the park
but she's alive in a way
that takes your breath away
faster than sunrise on a tropical isle
scary and weird with reckless style
you know it will end but you can't tell how
and you'll hang on to her till it all turns vile
You're hanging by a thread
so very alive but feeling half dead
you think of the things left unsaid
and replay the tapes inside your head
there are moments stuck on a permanent loop
things lower than you ever thought you could stoop
pleasure or pain mixed up in your brain
you hope when it happens that it happens quick
the thought of her leaving makes you feel sick
still it's better than nothing to feel so alive
but you just need a break from the squirming inside

Huldah Erickson, My Grandmother

She died 20 years before I was born, at least. She spent her life thumping bibles, raising babies and arguing religion with my grandfather, two jesus freaks, one from Norway, one from Sweeden, both fighting over the same repressed dead guy nailed to a stick.
I see her face and hair in mine, I see her dark eyes too. I'm afraid I see my future figure too, although time will tell. I'm glad my father was immune to the Jesus virus, and I inherited that immunity.
She was older at 60 than my mother is at 78, and I wonder just how freaked out she'd be by today, my "lifestyle", our strange family and a world filled with sex and violence and opportunistic hacks masquerading as concerned politicians and self declared "family values" issues.
I hope she's resting in peace with her lord, because my long dead father described a life of strife in the house he grew up in.

I dreamed you were here again ©1993

chalkboard nailbrain

Sometimes I think the rest of the world can hear the scracthing of my fingernails as I slide down the chalkboard of my mind into a gibbering state of burnt nerve endings and bad tape loops of memory.
Sometimes I know they can.
Self control is over rated.

Her Mom's Bathroom, 1977

Toxic Geese and a New Year

Step outside
Bright stars, cold air slaps my face
drunks babble on the street like toxic geese
cheap trick screams from the speakers in the townie bar
"I want you to want me"
Seems like a desperate mantra to me
nobody wants to go home alone in the cold
my ears are ringing,
my feet are sore
Last set's over
tear it down and pack it out
point the big mercury home
keep an eye out for the drunks and cops
a strange new year is here.
another spin around the big fireball
it's 3 AM, my bed calls.

Darkening Sky

There's a drifting slow snow
falling out of a darkening sky
holding the promise
of a fresh white coat
on the dirty slush
and grumpy world of January
I leave dark footprints
in the mushy snow behind me
as I close up shop
crack open a beer
flip the switch on the amp
crank the reverb
grab that cold steel bar
slide that steel guitar onto my lap
suddenly it sounds like east Texas
drifting across the room
from an old car radio
a slow slide of something like
a waltz wanders out of my fingers
sleepy and slow
forget about the cold
and the snow
turn off my mind
and let those notes flow

I love babies. So cuddly!

Your blogmistress at work

Wanker Man-Boys, Fear ME!

I got the funk, the snork and the glory of a rock godess and I can shred that cosmic funk, baby. Be afraid, wank-o-casters. I have more power in one hand with my heavy steel on my lap steel than an army of fools with Les Pauls and Marshal stacks, and that's when I'm still unplugged!Step aside, all you manly, butt lipped, foolish boy-men who think you rock. I cook and eat my dead! I eat black holes for breakfast! I've done and had things done to me by strange women you could never even dream of, let alone have the places to have it done! I've had better groupie sex with more women than a planet full of Motley Crues, Guns'n'Roses and David Lee Roths! Amy Ray asked me for kissing lessons! I am the purple flower of hell county, give me wide berth! My droppings bore through the earth and become volcanos in China! I was kidnapped by bodiless fiends from a corporate rock galaxy and got away with their wireless transmitters! I cannot be tracked on radar! When I plug in my Fender Dual Showman, the lights dim in LA and Three Mile Island melts down, again!Erick Clapton weeps from shame when he hears my name! I made Joan Jett think it was cool to be a dyke! My EL-34's are made of diamonds, my 12AX-7's were forged in a black hole! I am my own event horizon, I need no stinkin' drum machines! I compress my own damn signal with the mighty action of my own thoughts! My strings are made from Supergirl's Hair, the only thing strong enough to withstand my mighty pick strokes! My fingerpicking cannot be captured on film because it's faster than the light that shines on it! I have Leo Fender's heart, it's here on my desk next to Ted Nugent's testicles! Fear me, you human refuse who think you can play!

Pitter patter of little claws

My skull has rats
they grin
they chew
and try to tell me
what to do
mostly they grin
and scurry about
little clacking claws
on the linoleum
of my hindbrain
chewing on the cheese
in my frontal lobe
peeking around corners
waiting for me to throw
a mental shoe
at them
I'd put out some
D-Con but modern life
is filled with poison
already
I'd put out glue traps
but my mind
is already sticky
It's better than cats
at least the rats don't
need a litter box

wino santa's eye

Marty Robbins
and steel guitar
drift out of the stereo
"out in the west Texas town
of El Paso"
extra horseradish bloody Marys
jalepeno olives
they're sweating already
chased by beer
they
slide down the hatch
The Hulk and Xena action figures
hang from a limb
the Silver Surfer
fights for space at the top
with Dr. Doom and Dr. Frank N, Furter
who will claim the top
of this year's tree?
tiny lights and garland
twinkle like the gleam
in a wino santa's eye when you
offer him a bottle of
Mad Dog 2020
snow spits out of the sky
like the clouds are trying
but too thirsty to cough up
a good white cover
it must be the holiday season
tonight at our house!

A Memmo from the Boss

Good afternoon, everybody.
I've been gone longer than I thought, and I can see I should have left better instructions when I left as to what direction I wanted us to move in. Were it not for some family matters involving my father and our CEO, whom you all know has been too busy with other matters to pay much attention to matters here, I would have returned much sooner.
I have to say I am very, very unhappy with the changes that have been made in my absence. When I formed my vision of this organization, it was not about money, power or control. While I have been gone, I can see that some of the staff have self appointed themselves to higher positions, but also has taken up some rather disturbing rules regarding the establishment of a dress code, intrusion into personal matters by some of our affiliates, and enforced a morality code that has made many of our best people leave us to join up with our competitors. Not only that, you've started playing favorites with politicians. These things will stop, starting right now.
No matter how busy you're trying to look, or how innocent you might think you are, I am in the way of knowing just who needs correction around here, and some of you are going to get booted right to hell. For lack of a better term, I am very pissed off.
I thought I'd passed on some very clear directives, part of our mission statement, that were in no way ambiguous. You've broken all ten on a regular basis, and no amount of pleading is going to stop the disciplinary actions coming down. You're lucky I have a forgiving nature.
Oh, and by the way, Christ is not my last name, you idiots. It's a title. Please start using the actual translation, Jesus The Christ when both emailing and referring to me.
Sincerely,
Jesus The Christ, Son of God.