Hussein

Theme/motif: Galaxy threatened by star beast. (Huh?)

I was going to have a baby and name it Hussein.

Actually, I was going to have my wife have the baby, but I was the one who was going to name the baby Hussein. Hussein Riley, that would’ve been my baby.

I thought it would be good to name the baby Hussein because it would mean that the baby would—when it grew up and was no longer a baby—never be able to go anywhere, politically. Right?

Right?

Politics is a tough game. From what I understand, it “chews people up and spits them out” and other such things. Well, I didn’t want that for my child, right?

Who would?

Anyway, so my brilliant plan was going to be to have this baby, name him Hussein, and then be sure to do other things that would make sure he couldn’t be in politics. Get high a lot, for example.

A lot.

Maybe get arrested. Make dirty movies. Teach him to hate America.

Or just love communism.

Usual parenting stuff.

Would’ve gone great, too, if, say, I had gotten married. And married someone with a fertile womb. And all that.

Before the Destroyer came. But the Destroyer came. The Great and Terrifying Destroyer.

The Great and Terrible Destroyer came from the depths of space to devour our world—our solar system—our whole freaking galaxy. To destroy our world with the merest twitch of its tentacle.

And the Great and Terrible Destroyer appeared. And it really changed my priorities.

As one would expect, I suppose.

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Here's a self-portrait of me with an Agnes Martin.



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Also, this is my very favorite thing in the world today.