Rilo Kiley - A Better Son/Daughter →
scene from a surgery
I heard them standing over me, the doctors. “Fuck it.” “No, be calm. He just looks bad.” “Bill operated on him didn’t he.” “Be reasonable George.” “Mother fucker.” “Let’s just drain the cyst and go home. Take some time and cool down. Take a day or two. It’s been some week.” “Fuck! Bill is such a...
The third night
By the third night, he had enough of doritos and shemale porn. His heart wasn’t in it anymore, and every vice he added (drinking, smoking, more porn) was accompanied by this ambivalence, this feeling of freedom of choice that made this seem less like a single slump than a continuous sequence of bad decisions. After relieving himself again, his conscience struck him with the disappointing...
Three experiments supported the hypothesis that people are more willing to...– Moral credentials and the expression of prejudice (Monin & Miller, 2001)
You get tired of fools, Likewise of shoes, thoughts, countries— One by one, you leave them.
I thought of another puzzle. Decipher the following code: ]/h’m9a;9mh.9ocl.]we
a study of how relationships are shaped by the...
“Don’t look back here yet!” the girl says, snapping her brown towel in front of her creation. I feign like I didn’t see it and put my hands over my eyes. We’re sitting on her couch, her dog and I, and her dog whimpers and rests her (his?) head on my lap. I cry out in surprise. “The dog is drooling on me, Sue,” I say. She doesn’t acknowledge me....
Lyrics for an upbeat, alternative rock song
Photographed at the DMV with shades They took ‘em off me, Sadie Sold my matchbox for a Camaro The breeze was kickin so I hitched it down the road Nobody knows that basketball is dead Except the kids who keep the party in their head Salute the pirates for living close But watch their eyes close around your throat It’s gone by like Ash Wednesday for a Jew The sundial’s...
suffering at a barbeque you sit on a step, and say, smokey, can’t you make love to her with words? tell her, she looks like taylor swift, or neil young. summertime, you’ll say, suavely, is for bitches, in heat. and she’ll laugh at your sweater and sweatpants. and your dick, which is so hard, like a cocoon, like a cock, at a cocktail party, and you’ll lay down...
Latest sociology assignment: Write a 6-8 page paper exploring how economic activity can involve a difference between what people assume, believe, perceive, explicitly say, formally allow etc., and what is actually going on. — In other words, explore fakeness, authenticity, selling out, being yourself, realness, honesty, truth. Explore everything you ever wanted to explore, using sources...
He likes to post clippings from newspapers on the wall. He gets the second paper because sometimes two interesting articles are printed back-to-back.
I came up with a lateral thinking puzzle. It’s basically a riddle with an impossibly hard answer, but when you hear it, there’s really no other solution. If you can come up with a solution that’s more plausible/clever than mine, then you “beat” me. Here goes: A man lives alone. He has two subscriptions to the New York Times. In other words, every morning, two copies...
Watching other people to watch myself
So my friend is subtly but surely a little handsoffish about technology. Since I installed ubuntu, she’s been calling it “Ubontu” in this funny way, like “your cute geeky pet” or something. I mean it’s harmless and cute, but I get the impression that if she went home and started spouting technical talk about operating systems, her extended family would almost...
Workshop: An educational seminar or series of...
I attended two sexual misconduct team workshops this week, on 1) consent and dating life, and 2) disrupting damaging gender stereotypes in classrooms. When the gender stereotypes workshop began, the facilitator let us know that it was “workshop time” right off the bat by saying, “Please go around and share any aspects of your identity that are important to you. My name is ____...
Click on it twice. These are your two super... →
I don’t usually do these but I just had a conversation with you about “what superpowers would you want” and I gave a cop-out answer, so here goes: One: Clown Physiology — “Ability to use the abilities of all types of clowns.” For example, card manipulation, fear/insanity/laughter inducement, and miming. Two: Eye Color Manipulation — “The power to...
End of jazz
At the end of the day, I’m writing for you. Sorry for the long bouts of selfishness. I dont know what the fuck I write either, or why I try so hard. This is, and has always been, a poem dedicated to you, and to the extent I forget that and splay myself all over the keyboard, I am embarrassed. I think art is just people breathing together. I am breathing here, into the ether.
clam chowder: Self respect →
kuduhunter: I read an article today. It was written in 1922. Why I Quit Being So Accommodating. The article inspired the following thoughts and anecdotes. The Exchange My words to a friend-acquaintance: “…so that’s why I’ve chosen to back away from physics and academia and become more of a hybrid… I was actually thinking about sending this to you earlier! I saw this linked to on...
A car - is a vehicle that is an open question, just as a train is a statement. (a car is to answer a question, a train is to ask. Ie a question is the act of answering a question and a statement is the act of creating one) A lovers quarrel is to deprive her of my own dignity
Article on Galia →
“Do you not know yet? Throw the emptiness out of your arms to add to the spaces we breathe” -Rainer Maria Rilke
The cold porridge sits on the granite Fuck, it’s all I have, I mean You’ve taken a lot of Furniture, Haven’t you?
friends in love →
kuduhunter: hahahahahahahaha Yeah I know I’m in love. hahahahahahahahahaha…
an argument against unintelligibility in modern... →
What is the current that makes machinery, that makes it crackle, what is the...– gertrude stein
sketches of autumn
I found a machine in the yard. A cheaply printed sign, “Write for me,” hung around it, and it had a gaping hole. I had a poem on a sheet of looseleaf in my pocket, and I had no use for it, so I stuck it in. Vrrrp. It sucked it right up, whirred a bit, and an air hose went PFF and the poem shot into the air. It was sort of lazy looking as it arced across the sky. It was autumn, my...
Last summer in Philadelphia, the first day we had...
a poem by ee cummings: for prodigal read...
spat the brakeman, “you and coins don’t get along,” and I, alight with thunder, said, this poem is too much like something Charles Simic would mother fucking WRITE
Your head’s been floating, bobbing, And we’re diagonal And the window is a cross And I see all this clearly, months, years later In the breaking cold waves of the sea
and in waiting, it comes to us all
and jimmy’s jazz rolls down the stairs i know he knows what it is kevin no longer stutters, like in fifth grade, and he wins poker without a face my guitar string is broken like air coming up the stairs and jimmy’s jazz is rolling like the north carolina sun.
Fruit is like Earth candy.– Lily
Out with the old, in with the new I heard a rooster crow this morning “I agree with you,” I said, “but hold on, I hear a cricket sawing an electric violin.”
I’m tired and don’t know which way to go
The strawberry plants she remembered weren’t there. The cabin has long since overgrown with yellow dogwood, like a field of prickly germs pushing against the front door. The knocker, an angry face carved out of bronze that her husband brought back from Tibet, glared from the door. Upon closer inspection, the knocker was the same color as the little flecks of paint hiding in the cracks in the...
Upon meeting love that is too beautiful
Stand before me, love. The bark on the tree is thick and hard. I will treat you with the utmost tenderness. This is my word. Now die.
Howling at the moon, Mr. Coyote? I get it, I get it…