Sometimes when I’m inking and coloring my drawings I experiment with letting some pencilled areas show through.
It’s an interesting effect, but it makes her hair look like a wig of bubbling slime, or perhaps a large, viscous blob of ochre gelatin.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 28
I love Charity, and I would like to marry her.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 29
One day several years ago I was palling around with my pal, the inimitable Charles “Chuck” Hague, and his pal Brian McKinney, just kicking back and recording some of the high quality tracks you’ve come to expect from the Lucas Hackett brand. After we had gotten all of my so-called “songs” taken care of, we sat around in Chuck’s living room, dinking around on small mandolin-like stringed instruments called tamburitzas. We came up with a nice little song, and one of them had the fine idea that such a song should be recorded for posterity. So, in the recording you will hear, the rhythm tamburitza is (well-)played by Chuck, the lead tamburitza is (poorly-)played by me, and the keyboards and surprises are courtesy of Brian.
Tamburitzas for Two [MP3, 3.3 MB]
Daily Hey Magic Number: 32
English class journal entry from 11 November 1991:
Jim looked out his window. It was a beautiful sunny day. The clouds drifted by like blobs of spit in an unflushed toilet in a men’s room at a gas station off the highway in North Carolina somewhere. Birds chirped as if it were summer, with the principal reason for that being that it was summer. Jim stood up and walked over to the fax machine. Suddenly, Jim realized that it was not a fax machine at all, but a secret government computer with information on every person that ever existed and every event that ever occurred! Then he realized that, no, it was just a fax machine. A fake one even. Made out of cardboard. Used as a stage prop. He’d just brought it home to impress the chicks. But in today’s harsh, cruel world, where everyone needs someone to care about, who isn’t prone to do that?
Daily Hey Magic Number: 33
Get on up!
Daily Hey Magic Number (yes, I’m counting this one): 34
English class journal entry from 16 September 1991:
I’m not sure what just happened. I think I just inhaled a bug or something. At any rate, I feel strangely happy now, as if something were going to happen or has happened that is good. Perhaps it is a result of this brand new pen. The ink gives off quite a sweet smell. So sweet, in fact, that I think I’m going to pass out…
OK, I’m awake, I just revived with Vivarin. I’m trying not to hurt myself in any way, and (ouch) dropping that book on my foot probably wasn’t the best way to start. Ah, well, all good things must come to an end, and for all bad things all ends are good, and some people have good-looking ends, and all’s well that’s well and good. Whatever the heck that means.
I’m not sure what just happened. Maybe I briefly fell into a daze from heat prostration. Perhaps I’m drunk on the semi-toxic particle-flavored rustwater that this school’s drinking fountains spurt out at tepid temperatures. That liquid is so rusty, I once had to get a tetanus shot after I drank it.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 35
Creative Writing class journal entry from 6 December 1993:
What is the true nature of God?
Now, don’t strike me down to hell for saying this if it’s what you believe, but I think it’s pretty safe to assume that God is not a viscous blob of ochre gelatin.
It is my personal belief that God doesn’t look like a solidified object at all; I think that he’s just a big ball of light. If he does look like a human, though, I don’t think that he has any genitals. I’m using the word “he” with someone with no genitals. Great. God is a eunuch.
No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t know what I mean. All I know is that them damned religious T-shirts bug me. Which brings me to the conclusion that God exists in the form of a T-shirt.
No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t remember what I mean.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 36
Creative Writing class journal from 17 November 1993:
My Lovely’s Chicken Bodice.
Arf! my dear. I adore your chicken bodice, it so flatters your eyes. The feathers are soft and white and heavenly. How do they adhere to you like that? Forgive me for so saying, but the way they wrinkle and come up and around and connect at the beak, with the eyes symmetrically placed, well… it seems to magnify your bosom. Oh, don’t blush, madam, I am only being complimentary. I am not always looking at your bosom, no, but an occasional glance now and then… well it is rather quite extraordinary seeing as how you have just the one. Oh, I’m not denying that, my dear… no, it would not be gentlemanly of me to suggest that you have only one nipple. What? You have two? Really. That’s even more extraordinary. Two nipples on the same breast! Hmm… is it one on either side? Vertically! They’re arranged vertically? I don’t believe that! Slip out of that chicken bodice, my lovely, and let me see for myself.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 37
lucahack: I just purchased an expensive piece of computer equipment online with money that I don’t have
lucahack: God bless America!
foldingsuplex: good job helping our economy along
lucahack: if I didn’t buy the graphics tablet, the terrorists would have won
foldingsuplex: yeah. that’s the truth
lucahack: I already have one but it no longer appears to work, and I’ve had nothing but trouble with it since I got it
lucahack: but that couldn’t possibly happen TWICE
Daily Hey Magic Number: 38
Creative Writing class journal entry from 25 October 1993:
This is a journal entry. It contains whimsical insights into various issues throughout history and throughout the world. Today’s issue concerns journal entries.
Now, I will begin a new paragraph and attempt to be witty and clever in my response to the issue of journal entries.
Journal entries are cool, but sometimes they make me want to set my desk on fire.
Ah. Whimsy. There is nothing quite like it. However, the topic of whimsy would make for an entirely separate journal entry. Now, I shall continue to make casual, humorous observations about journal entries.
Boy, some journal entries, such as this one, sure are a pain in the butt!
Note that I included references to anatomy and physical displeasure. Allusions to these often are indicative of witty humor. But this entry is not about humor. It is about journal entries. And now it’s over.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 39
Creative Writing class journal entry from 11 October 1993:
My Wonderful Homecoming Experience.
My weekend started off on a lovely note as the football team came to an exciting yet entertaining loss. It’s as though the other team was toying with our minds when they let us score those touchdowns.
Then, the next afternoon, I went to the grocery store to buy Dining Materials, and ended up buying many Tabloid Magazines simply because they had Shannen Doherty on the Cover. Then I went to Chris Harmon’s house, where we cooked dinner by giving everything to his mother and saying, “Make this smell good.” Then, we picked up our dates and came back and ate dinner, during which the conversation topic switched to enemas, after which I went into the family room and passed out.
After renting the movie “Vasectomy!” for after-dance entertainment, we went to the dance, where I tripped over the tarp more than I actually danced. I consumed a lot of punch, because they played a lot of country music. However, fortunately, I did not get blue balls this year.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 40
StoneCo1dCrazy: So how’s your catch up going?
lucahack: I am totally not working on it at all
lucahack: it will probably be lots of one sentence posts
lucahack: or more journal entries from ten years ago
lucahack: I’m even running out of drawings
StoneCo1dCrazy: Stuff like “Gee, Rachel’s a fine dame. I bet she’s a goer”
lucahack: christ, I need more material
lucahack: yeah, stuff like that
Daily Hey Magic Number: 41
It begins.
Daily Hey Magic Number: 42
Here’s a number that I wrote and recorded several years ago with help from my younger brother Tim and mixed very poorly without help from anyone. Words, vocals, and keyboards by me; drums, bass, and backing vocals by Tim. It is a song about the perils of dishonesty.
The world is knocking me about with boxing gloves lately. What’s up with that? I don’t even have my mouth guard in.
Can you at least wait for me to put my fucking mouth guard in, world?