The Serial Killer Coloring Book Fundraiser

October 26, 2013

I am doing a fundraiser to get the next issue of the Serial Killer Coloring Book – The Richard Ramirez edition #6.66. Exciting, eh? Yes it is.

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Serial Killer Coloring Book fundraiser

http://igg.me/p/559880/x/4082277

For those of you that are not familiar with the Serial Killer Coloring Book I will give a little history. In 1998 I was looking to create an adult themed coloring book. I tried a Porno Star Coloring Book first but it didn’t do it for me. Or anyone else. The thought of doing a Serial Killer Coloring Book intrigued me. It also mad me snicker a bit.  I bought a copy of Harold Schector’s A-Z Encyclopedia of Serial Killers and began reading the drawing. I thought it was fascinating and made it real simple and low quality like as if a serial killer or a mental patient would draw and write. After some bad national criticism of my execution from other Zines of the time I decided to make it an ongoing comic/ fanzine and improve the quality of art even though they were the ones that missed the point. By the time the second issue $1.666 was finished I developed a following and the the Serial Killer Coloring Book found it’s way to international distribution.

I soon discovered an entire underground culture of serial killer enthusiasts (for lack of a better term). Most of us interested in the subject do not “love serial killers” or intend on sensationalizing the subject. We are interested in the intellectual and psychological aspects of serial murderers. I approach it with sarcasm and humor in my art and writings.

Serial Killer Coloring Book fundraiser

The rest is history. I created and sold 5 issues from 1999-2002 and are now available here in one collected volume. 11 years later it’s time to pick up where I left off.  Since Richard Ramirez died this year and I had a unique interest in him I figured an issue dedicated to him would be a good start.  Since I don’t have the “discounted” late night printing at a local copy shop option I am reaching out to gain support to print them and make them available at a reasonable cost.

I am also fortunate enough to have some wonderful artists working on this with me like Matthew Aaron (my artistic partner in crime), Herlaka Rose and Jon F Allen

Serial Killer Coloring Book fundraiser

Please click any of the many links to the fundraiser now and help if you can. Although the killer incentives are worth it to some, I appreciate any support I can get. Thank you in advance for your support.

artramirezsignedenv Art-Ramirez-Aaron-Hillen3


Banging Eesha

August 8, 2013

 

Banging Eesha Khare was just the beginning of Hermo’s erotica accomplishments

like his ability to cook a badass vegan quiche that knocked the panties off of many a youngin’. He’s tasted the sweat inside the sour and the sweet off the hog. Heroic whoremonger and all round lady’s man until she came along.

 

He’s experienced everything from the powerful and almighty golden shower power hour to the screeching bandages of stiff loves and rubbery limp limbs.

Her string cheese hair and incensed lips stopped Hermo Condara’s eyes from blinking the first time she smiled a hello.

 

After finishing a Kama Sutra lesson with Jodi Arias with and without KY and no k9, our hero ventured into the Holo Venute room to relax with a pseudo pint of lager and 3 Asian girls to perform a pedicure and nasal spray, Hermo spotted her across the nitro-room.

Quiandra Pamacharatih was a work of art in the nitro-room. She looked, moved and spoke like she belonged hanging in the middle of the most colorful of fine art exhibits. Her Mayan Princess features stood strong on along her entire face. Hermo’s pale gaze fell down her body lightly covered in a tan gauze dress right down to her dark sculpted toes stretching the rubber on her golden sandals as she stood up.

 

Hermo stared at Quiandra as he pulled his hands out of his armpits to give a quick sniff check followed by a short breath check. He extended his stinky fingers to shake her hand as he introduced himself. She could smell him on her fingers and she smiled her sparkling pearls under her thick Mayan lips. He smiled back at her with his twelve yellow tooth smile.

 

As Hermo launched Quiandra into the air and carried her off in the sunset. He could hear his ancestors cheer. Of all of the erotica accomplishments, cooking abilities and hogtying bare naked green cheerleaders of Southern Kitchen Inc, dusting Quiandra’s aftershock into the wind. Our hero smiles as you fade to black.

 

Art_GirlUglyFashion

 

END


Ode to My Hometown

May 3, 2013

 

Fairview Village. Inside of Camden, New Jersey, one of the most crime ridden cities in the country. My hometown. I lived here as a child. I live here once again as an adult child. I cursed the Gods for my own decisions that as if they had something to do with everything that has led me here in a couple of years of indecisive despair. Camden, New Jersey.

 

Fairview. Oh how you lured me back into your grips.  Oh Fairview, I am back and you have changed more than I have. You were once a beautiful Village in a fancy town. As Camden fell, you Fairview, kept your cool and were certainly a town with pride. A Village Square with candy stores, restaurants and a grocery store. Now the stores meet covered in graffiti, trash and a violent dirty smell in the air. A Hispanic grocery next to an old barbershop with a cracked striped pole.

 

Your boarded up houses try to keep smiling as the drug dealers hide in your shadows. Unknown and well-known murders, rapes and muggings try and hide but some of us can smell it through our tired ripped screen windows. I used to hide. Over two years of hiding I finally feel free.

 

Suddenly the County of Camden has sent hundreds of black uniformed storm troopers to “sweep” the town clean as they told me. Dozens standing on every block, friendly yet stern. Confident yet uneasy. To an outsider it may look like a Police State or even a Fascist takeover. To me it looks like freedom to step foot in my own neighborhood with out the fear of being hassled or even mugged. Oh Fairview, I feel something new from you. I feel hope. I see courage. I am not afraid, not because of “protection” but because someone cares about you once again. People are making the difference. The proud hardworking families can be proud once again to live in a community.

 

I hear echoes in your dark alleys and streets whispering complaints and curses directed at the County and the Guardians. The dark lords are in hiding and some are running or locked up. I know in my heart that you, Farview, you are beginning to see the future and it doesn’t hurt. We don’t have to hurt anymore.

 

RHJPFAIRVIEWniagara

Where I lived until 5th grade

0myhousse

Where I live now


Are You Catch?

September 22, 2012

Fish Run

“She want’s me”  My friend used to say.

“She just doesn’t know it yet.” He’d say right after.

I’m on a mailing list of a few “pick up artists” sites. I subscribed a long time ago when I thought I needed help meeting women. Well, maybe I did. I just didn’t practice their principles in all of my affairs. Ha. I did need help at times but they didn’t always have the answers. I even read a book called the Game which was more of a good read than a “how to” guide. It was the author’s story of how he got involved at first as research to write a book and he got sucked into the “pick up” scene. Remember that show that ran briefly on VH1, The Pick Up Artist? Mystery, the star of the show was also the central character in the book.  The book takes in the human factors despite the fact that they call it a “game” and the “pick up artists” play these games. The nature of men and women are different and our needs and wants are different. Deep down we are no different than primitive man. We’ve been conditioned to act accordingly to what our society dictates and dating, relationships and sex have become more obscure and difficult as far as communications go. Obviously, my initial interest in the subject wasn’t to learn human behavior but I am interested in that too.

Personally, I’ve been highly successful at times with the opposite sex at times and I’ve had rough patches other times It always depends on my own self worth and self-esteem. When I was young man my self-esteem was based on how much a woman liked me. I had this idealized concept that if all women didn’t think I was attractive then I was no one. I was a loser. I grew out of that theory but still had spurts of low self-esteem. Maybe I still do. I just don’t care as much these days.

I still receive these emails from various “pick up” sites with articles and then they want me to buy something. Sometimes I delete them without reading them sometimes I read them if the subject is catchy. Ha. Catchy. That’s what caught my eye the other day. The subject read “Are You a ‘Catch’ to Women?” I wanted to find out and I opened the email. It was interesting. They defined a “catch” as a “high status” male. A high status male is a man that has his shit together and has many qualities that women desire. Of course that varies depending on the woman.  I sat down and thought about it. I wonder if I am a “catch” to women.

Over all I have to say that I am a “catch”. Not to all women like I fantasized as a young man but in some women’s eyes. More importantly I am a “catch” in my eyes. I can look in the mirror on most days and think or even say out loud “you’re alright, Richy boy.”  Or something like that. Ha. Not to sound conceited or cocky but I do like myself today. I like the way I look, dress, act, and feel on most God given days.

I feel uncomfortable writing it like this for several reasons. First of all it might ruin my “self loathing” image that I seem to portray in my writing and spoken word. When I write about my spiritual or mental sufferings they are true human experiences that are only a small part of me. They are not the entire make up of Rich Hillen Jr. I tend to feel more motivated to write when I’m in a bad mood, upset about something or depressed than when I’m happy and confident. Second, I don’t want to come off as cocky. There’s a huge difference between being cocky and being confident yet there is a thin line between them. I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I’m simply aware of my strengths and weaknesses and feel confident most of the time. Also, feel slightly embarrassed to be reading articles from the so-called “pick up artists”. Who wants to admit that? That is one of my strengths and weaknesses. I am honest with what’s on my mind at least when I know what’s going on.

Hopefully, I’ll be the “catch of the day” for you today if not “there’s plenty of fish in the sea”

 


I Still Got It. Hahahahaha.

July 17, 2012

On Saturday afternoon I was doing some extra work (cleaning carpets) for my uncle in a law office building I sometimes help clean in Haddonfield, New Jersey. It was an arts fair day so the front of the building and the whole street was closed down and filled with vendor’s tents. My co-worker and I would take breaks outside and catch a smoke.

 

One of those breaks a beautiful Japanese woman came up to me real friendly asking how I was. Since her and her friend were dressed in similar floral print dresses and she was holding what looked like a post card in her hand I assumed she was going to try and sell me something. My co-worker complimented her pretty dress and I nodded in agreement. She kept smiling and making semi-flirtatious small talk and I was still waiting for a sales pitch that never came.

 

She asked me what work I was doing after asking me why I was there. I told her cleaning carpets. She smiled and said that was much better then working at the mall. The whole encounter only lasted about 5 minutes and she said goodbye and it was great to see me again. Again? As she was walking away in the distance it hit me that I knew her. She used to be a customer of mine when I was a server at a restaurant at the mall. A regular customer of mine. I used to know her by name. Damn, she is beautiful.

 

There I was with a beautiful sexy young woman flirting with me and I not only did nothing about it but I didn’t even know what was going on. This has happened many times before especially the not knowing a woman was into me until after the fact usually when someone tells me. I guess my self esteem is low, my memory is bad and I forgot what it’s like to be around women. Things are going to change. I mean to say things are going to change even more or I’m going to miss out on some prime opportunities in life.

To quote the great Ralph Malph from Happy Days “I still got it.”.


We are Merely Players

July 10, 2012

Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut! Stop there. Ok Rich. You got the part all wrong. You’re supposed to be the guy with positive energy surviving on his art and good looks. Where’s this depressive attitude coming from. You’re not supposed to be dragging through the day barely getting anything done. You lost a good part of yesterday this way and almost all of Sunday. I don’t want to hear that Bipolar starving artist routine. I’m not buying it. I don’t care how late in the day it is. Start over now. The films rolling and we’re not on a huge budget ya know. Deal with your “mommy issues” on your own time. I’m sick of doing re-writes just for you. You know how this should play out.

“Hero has a rough life. Hero goes through struggle after struggle. Hero finds true happiness. Hero loses it to his own self destructiveness. Hero admits complete defeat, seeks help and changes his beliefs and attitudes and lives happily ever after one day at a time.”

So let’s start this day over from where you do something productive and finish your laundry.


Feeling Wrong

July 3, 2012

I had such a great few weeks. I notice that I tend to blog more when I’m in pain or to vent but not as much when I’m having good days or weeks. I was hoping to post a blog about how good I’m doing in life in general but I didn’t get to it. Maybe not materialistically but spiritually and mentally. I’ve been praying more, exercising more, eating right, taking care of my physical and mental “disorders” by seeing professionals and feeling great about it.

 

I still feel pretty good over all but the past couple of days I just haven’t felt right. I’ve been lethargic, eating too much (makes me more lethargic), tired and creatively stumped. In reality I did a lot today but since I didn’t “finish” any creative projects and I took a nap I’m back to dwelling on the negative. Not as much but enough to make me write about it. It’s also been over 90 degrees, close to 100 degrees some days and I hear that can drain you even if I don’t go out in it much. Whatever is going on I’m sure it will pass.

 

I also started reading a book called the Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. It is basically a self help book designed to bring out your inner creativity. Although I am actively creative every day for the most part I decided to read it and begin the exercises because someone I know wanted to start a workshop based on the book and I happen to have a copy that an ex-girlfriend gave me years ago. One of the exercises is to write what she calls morning pages. It’s basically writing 3 pages of stream of consciousness. I’ve sort of been doing that anyway but not everyday in an un organized fashion like the author suggests. I’ve been doing it for 4 days so far. She warned that a person might be digging up deep-rooted issues and might go through a type of withdrawal emotionally and that might explain feeling off. I don’t look at anything I write when I am finished. If I’m not feeling good from these exercises I’m sure this will pass too.

 

I  hate going to bed at night without at least one creative project under my belt. I was working on a major project for weeks that tied me up and now that I’m free I was hoping to do something everyday. Write and finish a piece or draw and finish a piece. I want that quick fix. My art in all forms have to be done in one day. That’s why it took me 7 years to finish my first novel Yellow Socks but I blogged every day. I also have 3 websites to maintain. I try to post every day on there. I don’t.

 

I’m sure everyone reading this can relate to not living up to their own expectations especially if you have any “disabilities”. I guess I just needed to get that out and post this for any readers that are keeping up with me. That’s what’s going on with Rich today.


Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream pages 87-89

June 22, 2012

NOTE: This is an excerpt from the book I wrote way back in January  2018 and published in May 2020.

Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream page 87-89

How Jocko and his teamster pal Buck got over the scrap of indigo blow snort gavel, only a real scientist will tell. Examine them closely and you would never know they were table beef survivors. The tracking devices made them look cool and even lowered their temperatures but they were being watched. Every skip and jump over the sand dunes were known by Kaydick Industries.

“Jocko self serving through production of self right bbbbBuck?” Jocko asked with unquestionable certainty.

“Aww knock it off Jocks. We’ve been through this before. These feelings of inadequacy will pass. Drink this.”

Buck passed the chuckle juice to Jocko knowing it would calm him down and in turn calm them both down. Jocko took several swigs and starred into the several sunned blurry sky wishing he were still a civilian and not a runaway ex table beef. The Agency had no use for them but Kaydick Industries followed their moves for the fun of it more than any business matters at hand.

“Feel better now?” Buck asked.

“Yeah. I feel so inspired. Can I piggy back now?”

“You know you’re too heavy but if you need human contact I can ride you. Just remember last time I rode you. You tore a few stitches.”

“It’s ok. Ride me. Ride me.”

The temperature was rising near 1,046 degrees porfeos. Dry heat that humps your glands like a reptile. If you’ve ever been humped by a reptile then you know. They had no choice in a life situation like this but to keep moving. The other side of desert is the town of Gointhaw. They would be safe for a while there. One would think with a population of 456,890 they could get away and not be seen despite the high tech tracking system.

 

Meanwhile Ralph was helping me with my own problems. The center of my scrotum was unnerved during the last explosion. I needed Ralph’s strong hands to reach inside and “pull the strings” as the motthoppers called it in my day. Not sure of the proper medical procedure’s name. Ralph wasn’t medical. He was physical for sure. He stuck his hands right up in there, you see. And wiggled each finger one at a time until he saw my fantastic grin reaching each ear almost. Chagrin. Ouuuther.

“Thanks. I needed that.” I said.

“Uppers yup. For you I can do fritterpops. Wholesale style. Ya know.” Ralph said.

Now my only agenda was to take photo options for the Agency. They remote wired me for the mission. My brain would freeze as they send a signal telling me when to click the device resembling absolutely nothing like a camera or visual recording device. It was built into my forehead like a third eye yet invisible to the eye. It was under my skin yet the 3 kolopuy length and width lens could actually see from the far away Agency laboratory. The trigger/button was on the side of my nose and only about .006 Kintopuys. It looked like I was scratching my colossal sized honker.

It was a fairly simple routine besides the brain freeze but the Agency was cautious and paranoid so Ralph was by my side in case I ran into any trouble. In some countries and cultures scratching my nose and staring at someone would be considered rude or a primal way of saying “skitter over lipper”. Even an inactive agent like myself could get quite the head banging and artillery action for that. Ralph is there to break up any potential violence like that and multiple other types. He’s a good zoo, ya know, it’s fun to keep him around. He doesn’t need weapons. I told ya what those hands can do with my “problem”.


Bagel and Cream Cheese

June 18, 2012

 

Bagels and cream cheese at the end of my street

Comical caravans drive by my feet

Stick it to man and I get stabbed in the back

Ain’t no lovin for me just quite yet

 

The edge of the park is a nice place to rest

Light a mouthful of grass- the fresh picked best

Share it with the children and get poked with a stick

Ain’t no lovin for me quite just yet

 

Light three candles at the corner Catholic Church

For the three that I love who never got the hearst

My Sunday best clothes melt a holy water scam

Ain’t no lovin for me quietly quite yet

 

Oh driver oh driver do drive me away

Far from this level of the story I am stuck

Where the joke has no punch line

And I don’t give a skunk

 

Ain’t no love for me until I am ready you

Not just quite yet


Father’s Day

June 17, 2012

Father’s Day has been an odd day for me through the years as I’m sure that there are many others who could say the same. I was fortunate to have 2 fathers. I didn’t get to share this love until later in life but there were only a few brief years I didn’t have a “father” with me and even then I lived with my grandfather who played the father figure role.

When I was adopted at the age of 11 I had no contact with my biological father for around 5 years or so at this point but I wanted to keep my birth name for some reason. I was proud to be a Junior of a man I had yet to know. I heard good and bad stories from family and even fictional stories from my mentally ill biological mother through the years.

After a year or so of settling in with my new parents I celebrated Father’s Day with my new dad I called by his first name Bill. He raised me trying to be the best father he could and did a decent job despite my already wacky ways. He wasn’t the type to celebrate holidays much Father’s Day wasn’t a big deal. We’d have a more formal meal or go out to eat and I’d get him something but as I got older all it came and went.

In my 20s my biological father came back into my life. It took a couple years to drop our baggage and become friends and it was worth it. Then I had 2 dads. Some years I divided my time and other years I neglected my real father. I give him a lot of credit for hanging in there with me. I haven’t been the best son to him but he tried to be the best father. We’ve been building since. We started slowly but eventually started getting together once a week and did lunch and we kept with it until we both were broke and changed it to once a month and we still get together.

Meanwhile my adopted father was getting sick on and off from 2006 or 7 to 2009 when he finally died. I moved in with my adopted mother and him early 2009 and he died June 19th 2009. I became closer to him than ever before he died and take comfort knowing him better.

I still hung out with my biological father and every year I begin to appreciate him as a father. This past May he took me to Atlantic City for my birthday because it was the closest town with a Hooters. We used to go to Hooters every Monday for luck for over 2 years. Maybe 2. We walked the boardwalk and even the beach that day and I had a lot of fun. We were both relaxed and enjoyed ourselves. I realized later that I was subconsciously reliving my early childhood bonding with my dad at one of the beaches he actually took me too as a kid.

I realized I don’t give him enough credit as a father and all he has done for me through the years since reconnected.

We’re getting together on Tuesday June 19 for lunch to celebrate father’s Day. I realized later that it was the 3-year anniversary of my adopted dad Bill’s death. I think it’s appropriate. They were both great Fathers. Rich Hillen Sr is the underrated one and it’s time to give back whatever I can and be a son.

Happy Father’s Day.


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