February 2012
2 posts
i’m nostalgic for my mid-20s. and i’m only almost 32. there is something to be said about that. (what a generic fuckin genre trope of a phrase. there is something to be said about everything, no matter how banal.)
Wilco Chastain Park pouring rain entire show / double date in front of me all sat down when the band left the stage at the end of the set, each lit up their own individual j, they slowly smoked their individual j’s, staring straight ahead, kids in front on the side and behind
January 2012
1 post
He woke up, drank some coffee, and immediately began. The juices or whatever they are flowed and he caused trouble and generally acted as an annoyance. Frankly it was the only thing that he knew how to do. It was his thing.
December 2011
17 posts
A starter’s pistol in the hands of an arrested 31 year-old. Developed arrestment, that is. The days are almost at their fewest. Two more nights counting this, which makes time short and funny-feeling. It is a very good funny, in case you were wondering.
“That’s my thing. My thing that I do. That I spend the majority of my time here doing.” The unconscious inclusion of...
A litany of open doors and literally no doors closed. I invite more and more to the shindig without the slightest concern for capacity. I then ruminate about the process after it is far too late, and I continue again, acting as if cognition never occurred. A filthy cycle.
The king of non-sequitors strolled down the hallway of lascivious charms, batting an eyelash here and waving a pinky there,...
There it is. A communal experience strikes again. That’s what the headlines would read at least. I watch as the interruptions get louder and louder, and one can’t help but notice them and then inevitably engage with them, in a pseudo-epic battle, one that would make the hipsters stop and watch for 24 hours of their existence, until they moved on to something new of course. I keep...
I refuse to digress into music criticism. It is a slippery slope and no one ends up happy or satiated. I will continue on a path of nonsense for a while longer, until I find a “voice” (which is importantly in quotation marks because I am on the far-end of the self-awareness continuum, 99th percentile easily). I try to dissociate but, again, the knowledge of self consumes my every...
I just opened a heap of windows and the house is so cold that I can barely breathe. Literally: the temperature is having an effect on my lungs’ ability to do whatever they do with oxygen to keep me alive and in existence. What is the most logical next step? Close the windows, of course. And put on a comfortable and reasonable winter outfit before concentrating on one thing to do, with...
I don’t know why I play the game. The same thing happens over and over and over until the ad nauseumness of the experience becomes dull. Yet here I am, in all of my wasted December glory, playing the ephemeral game. It has me by its hooks and I am truly unable to penetrate toward anything even resembling productivity. I enjoy its morsely bits, so tempting and calorieless: “air”...
I have decided to go back 28 years, to a simpler time and a simpler place and the invention of jangle pop. footnote 1 Approximately 30 seconds to suss out what to say, so he just rambles and jumbles and dreams of Mondays. It all starts with ‘Radio Free Europe’. I didn’t even know that. Holy shit. This is one of the greatest “hello world” moments I have ever...
Readers Anonymous met on Tuesday evenings at 8:30pm in the Unitarian Church down the street from his third floor walkup. He took the trolley there every other Tuesday. He walked when he didn’t trolley. He still enjoyed a cigarette now and again, so there was always a pack in his breast pocket. He thought it made him look cool, like James Franco or Ryan Gosling. Or at least the Hollywood...
He looked up and the 45 minutes had passed. The stewards were set, having walked their march just prior. A dullness sets in, approximately 30 minutes after the ingestion. Lack of affect arrives and impacts everything. The trick is unraveling the effects of the tea with those of general tiredness. The connection is unsolvable at the moment, though if I were to bet on an outcome, I reckon the tea...
Goddamit. I need an escape from my escape. Wait, where was I? Oh yes, an escape, of course. It seems I have a psychological hiccup of some sort. And then I serendipitously click on the new Cass McCombs LP and all is right with the world. I think I’ll try something more realistic this time. A very short scene.
The Guatemalan shopkeeper left the store around 7:44. The two 30 somethings...
I just looked at the dailies and they were all wrong. Not really sure where you want me to start, so I’ll delve in no certain order. Maria wanted to play a stoned game, one of those where everything moves slowly and in suites, like a late60s Brian Wilson synaptic sneak out. He was obviously on to something. And then that something decided it wanted to experience the planet Earth and the...
The institutions want us to think that we have the power, but of course that is one of the all-time great fallacies. YOU are in control of what happens to YOU. No one else. I am here to tell you that this is only half-true. There is certainly much about your existence (now, of course, I am speaking entirely from an upper-middle-class-Caucasian-American perspective here) that is in your hands, but...
An amazingly inefficient user of time. That is what has become of you. Time. Time. Time. It refuses to stop trailing you. It is literally always with you. It is arguably the only thing that you share this existence with. Time. Go figure. No wonder Scott’s obsession with it. And my latent obsession. I wonder how much time I have “wasted” in the past 8 years. What is wasted time?...
It felt like the right moment to do it. And one was taught to trust their feelings. (By society, mind you.) And their feelings were still asleep, so he went to the basement and had some tea and returned to neutral. And he engaged in solipsism. And wannabe-consciousness. The changes are official. No more leaves. Just empty branches and a giving-in that this is going to be “a long...
I still can’t shake the ephemera. Though I’m not actually trying. That could serve as a problem. Minimalist desk? Check. Updated to-do? Check. Sense of self-loathing? Of course. Tasty ale? Always. Addiction to technology and time-bound readings? Still.
A trip to Philadelphia was planned. The adults would take a Saturday night in March and make it a memory. He had been acquainted with...
Notice was finally sent and received. An entire month after the perusal. From a robot email address with a blank for the job title. It was an anti-climactic end to a frankly wild ride. I don’t think it is simply defense mechanisms talking, but I do think it is for the best. I would have had to do a number of things that I am incapable of presently doing. I am in a good place right now. A...
I wanted to teach the entire program, but figured they wouldn’t benefit. So why do it? But then I realized how thin it was, the argument. And it would never satisfy deep down. Only cursory satisfactions and even then he wasn’t sure where they came from (and perhaps why they came, but, well, you understand). At least I was doing something. A first step of sorts. A lack of options too....
November 2011
3 posts
It’s the process of creating. That’s all. No more, no less. Just create. I thought about that some more and then I realized I needed to listen to music. I wasn’t listening to much lately. My amount-listened had decreased substantially in 15 short months yet I barely noticed. A wedding here. Putting off the real work there. Reading too much pointless solipsistic ephemera. I wanted...
He was listening to the new R.E.M. song. The last new R.E.M. song actually. It was “his jam” as of late. Those were becoming fewer and fewer. The reason escapes me. Could be he was getting older. Could be he was in a funk. Could be clinical in nature. Probably a complex combination of all of the above. Psychology is so simple. Then he clicked on “New Test Leper.” A song...
September 2011
1 post
August 2011
2 posts
Sort of Pin
“How we arrived at the notion that the postmodern era is the first ever to confront the tension between sincerity and irony despite millennia of evidence to the contrary is no mystery: every generation believes its insights are unprecedented, its struggles uniquely formidable, its solutions the balm for all that ails the world.”
June 2011
2 posts
May 2011
15 posts
“It’s this: we live longer now. But we also live less. It sounds hyperbolic, it...”
– Alice Gregory, “Sad as Hell”
April 2011
2 posts
“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without...”
– E.B. White
March 2011
2 posts
“A year from now you will wish you had started today.”
– Karen Lamb
February 2011
3 posts
