Bumper Sticker

Jesus wasn't old enough
to run for President.

Frankenstory

Yay. Yellow and I made another awesome Frankenstory:

Sitting sickly on the sidewalk, Lou looks both ways before deciding his destiny. Making notes in a tattered book, Lou steadies his hand and he maps out his moves. One scribble at a time Lou writes what he knows, scrawling: I know there are many kinds of lettuce, but not why the memory of a season can be condensed into the angles of sunbeams on the living room floor. I know I have waited two seasons to reproduce the effect, but like sports and soil, some of life just can't hold. Lou takes all of this in stride. Musing on his notes, he veers off - thinking for a minute about how video games reproduce childhood - how he was both the barrel and the hammer. And now, forever climbing ladders, our hero is approaching the killscreen. Now he understands that coming full circle can never return him to the same point, that a beam of light strikes indifferent eyes in different ways.

THE END

Rules of Rummaging

You can't take the last of anything

and you can't take anything

you think they might notice.

Break Night

Exactly doesn't matter

when close enough

really is

close enough.

Time to Kill Before Dinner

Right now I am dividing my time evenly between hitting the Stumble! button on my browser, clipping my fingernails and cuticles and letting the detritus collect in the folds of my retro-sheek Batman t-shirt while rocking the hell out to Nirvana's "In Utero," which I recently purchased as a vinyl reissue.

Just typing that last paragraph took a while, because the cuticles were calling once again, and now I have to get up and change sides on the record. I've been slowly starting to have free time again the past few weeks, and I've been alarmed to discover that in the past two and a half months I've more or less forgotten what I used to do for fun. What's even worse is that I get really anxious; I constantly feel like I have to be doing something, to the point where I get incredibly guilty just sitting around and playing Mario Kart for a half hour. That's just wrong.

I also get suspicious of pretty much most of the statements I made in that last paragraph, save for the part about the cuticles and the turning of the record ("Milk It" is playing now, what a strange song). I get bothered by the amount of time people spend using social media to complain about being busy, tired, stressed, etc. I get more bothered when I find myself doing it, like I just did in that previous paragraph. I think what bothers me--at least about my own complaining--is that whatever amounts of busy-ness, stress, or general anxiety I experience are my own making.

This is why the statement "I've more or less forgotten what I used to do for fun" is such a dubious one. Not only am I--at this very moment--doing several things that are fun (cutting your nails is awesome and you know it), but I've been having tons of fun the past two months. It's all I've been doing really. The problem is more in the labeling of things. As soon as it's called "studying", "thesis writing," or "workshopping" (did I mention that "Pennyroyal Tea" still makes me want to be a rock star?) it sounds like a chore. But I have to admit to loving it, even the stressful moments. At the end of the day, dammit, it's my stress, and I'm proud of it.

Writing my thesis has turned me into an insomniac hermit. I think about it every day and constantly worry that I've been polishing a turd for the past almost-year. That said (and for what it's worth) I also know it's the best creative work I've ever done, even if it's not done yet. More importantly, it's the first creative work I've undertaken that I will actually complete. For that alone, I will take all the stress, all the 4 a.m.'s, and all the photocopying expenses that this world can throw at me. I didn't sign up for this shit so I could relax. I have no reason to complain, except perhaps that it feels good, and is probably part of the process.

In conclusion, the drums at the end of "Radio Friendly Unit Shifter" pop my mind grapes.

Venn Diagram

If you were resurrected from the dead
and your goal is to convert as many mindless followers as possible

you are a Zombie.

If your goal is to convert as many mindless followers as possible
and if the local townspeople fear and revere you

you are Dracula.

If the local townspeople fear and revere you
and if you were resurrected from the dead

you are Frankenstein's Monster.

And if you are at the intersection
of this unholy trinity

you are Jesus Christ.

School Night

She's only interested in me
during commercial breaks

about seven minutes
every half an hour.

School Night

I check for tomatoes
on every sandwich
I look at.