80's Hell Hair

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© 2010. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Oh Yeah?

You just watch it now, cause that little boy that you brutalized back in the schoolyard has grown into a full grown man! Are you listening out there, Christine? Christine McNicholl? I'm ready for you if you ever come after me again. I'm gonna kick you in the nuts. You ain't some delinquent that can have her way with me no more, dragging me around like a sack of potatoes and making me smell your shoe. Even though you're probably ten feet tall by now, I'm still ready to stand my ground. Watch out.
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© 2010. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Hey Book Reader

In Grade One, when we first learned to read in school, I had a head start somehow. My earliest reads, before school, were the funnies. Blondie. I knew the alphabet and sounded out the words. I thought Blondie was pronounced 'Blundye.' Later I advanced to child's encyclopedias. I thought Caeser was pronounced 'Kayser.' So, by the time I got to Grade One, when they handed my group a book with one crumby sentence on each page and asked us each to read out loud just one page, I refused. I read the whole book out loud, myself. I got into trouble for that. I missed my turn the first few rounds on the next book.
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© 2010. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

The Zodiac Killer

I've never come across such a difficult planet. Looks like we've exhausted all of our conventional options. Beam down the astrologist. (Bz-z-z-z-z-z-zh!) Are you the ship's astrologist? Yes. Can't you tell by my hat with all the stars and moons on it? Look up there and tell me if you can see anything. Sorry, captain. I can't make heads nor tails of it.
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© 2010. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Cute Little Pet Peeves

Friday, October 1, 2010 Things are going well for me these days, and I wouldn't want to give the wrong impression by posting a complaint, but I simply can't restrain myself in this case. It's these silly bouncing icons that line the bottom of my screen. They annoy the fuck out of me. It irks me as a computer programmer to see the computer's potential functionality compromised by a need to animate buttons. I'd rather have its memory in reserve for something else. It bugs me as an artist to see cute little images all standing in a row, all equal in height and width. They remind me of a family photo of my brothers in the 1960's when every young man looked like Buddy Holly. (You'll find me in the foreground, about to start crying.) Lastly, it troubles me that people think a computer is better because its icons bounce up and down when you click on them.
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© 2010. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Uncommon Squalor

Saturday, October 2, 2010 I try not to let it get to me too much if someone views me as their competitor to be defeated and stepped on. Most people seem to lack the kind of talent that would lift them out of the proverbial rat race. If you have some kind of stimulating passion like art or music, your only competitor is essentially yourself. You are oblivious to the aggression of those around you, while they assume that you are out to step on them. To me, the phrase, I want to be better off than you, offers zero inspiration. Motivation is not the same as inspiration. My humble occupation up to this point, with which I have been satisfied, even with my talent lying dormant because of it, ought to prove that I'm the furthest thing from a social climber. It simply does not interest me to try to get ahead of the next person. I am an artist. That may be why I've not risen beyond entry level in my job[s]. With so many people in the world unable to find something better than motivation to keep them going, it's natural that their aggression would be more developed than it ought to be. I hope my presence among them will ultimately offer them some kind of relief.
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Senseless Correction

Probably like anyone, sometimes I find myself thinking the same thing as someone else. It doesn't make me psychic. If I'm on a bus and it's a wintery morning, I might say to the person sitting next to me something like, 'This reminds me of that schoolyard game where we tried to push each other off the snowbank.' Why wouldn't it remind the person next to me of the same thing? If I'm talking on the phone to someone and my words fit into an eavesdropper's thoughts in a different context, it's just a coincidence. Such coincidences are likely to mount for a person in a situation where he thinks of himself at the same time as others are thinking about him. I've no way of knowing for sure, but if this is the case for me, I want to state for the record that my claim of having ESP was strictly for reasons of comedy. On the matter of my time traveling, however...
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© 2010. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.