Micro New York Pictures.

I was in New York for a few quick days and I took some grainy pictures on my phone. It seems to me like New York is always portrayed on the macro level, in HUGE pictures. Below are some very small pictures. Please enjoy my (more or less chronological) photo gallery of micro NYC miscellanea!

The Jet Blue departures board.



The mast of The Ventura, a ship that sailed us around Lower Manhattan and The Statue of Liberty.


Awesome cupcakes at Grand Central.



Flowers for sale at a vendor in Midtown.



So do you?



The highly recommended half & half pizza at Totino’s on the Lower East Side.



The legendary $12 Sangria at the rooftop sculpture garden at The Met.



This funny little guy at The Met wants a hug!



A black & white cookie from my favorite little bakery in Grand Central (black & white cookies are just better in New York, I know how that makes me sound, but it is true).



Getting on the subway at Grand Central.



A terrible pic of the full size Ferris Wheel inside the Toys R Us in Times Square.



One of the weird things about walking around in New York is that you will turn a corner and all the sudden, the fricken’ Empire State Building is there.



Some colorful leggings in a store at Penn Station.



A picture of New Jersey, taken from a moving train.



Central Park.



One of the tunnels out of the city.



Most of the cabs have a live map in the back seat now. That little green dot below the S in QUEENS, that’s the cab I was in when I took this.


A rare photo of your humble author, taken in a bathroom at JFK.


A Jack and Coke in the bar at the new Jet Blue Terminal.

New Haiku! For You!

Get this shirt here.


So it seems that I am becoming so super awesome at scratching out shit haiku on my lunch break, here is some poetry I wrote last week (which was an especially bad work week).


Oh work, why must you
demand so much from me and
from my little life?

Sometimes I try to
tunnel out, below my desk;
with little success.

Today I hid up
above the ceiling tiles,
but I got hungry.

At lunch I tried to
flee, but my conscience stopped me;
also, I am broke.

So back I slunk to
my desk and my sad spreadsheets.
I drank cold coffee.

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Red Hot Love.

Since it has been awhile, here is a picture of Scarlett Johansson, who loves me and is sad I have not been blogging as much.



And here is a picture that my awesome roommate Azalea (still test driving blog names for her) sent to my phone when she was in Laughlin.




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Lavish!

BLOG! I have missed you!

It has been super busy lately, but I am back to lavish attention on you.

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Place I Would Like to Go.

You know how I like the internet because it is a repository of the strange, right?

Well here is some strange for you: Crosby Beach, England.



The beach is host to an art instillation by Antony Gormley called Another Place, which apparently consists of 100 six-foot tall cast iron human figures facing out to sea.

That's odd, don't you think?

God as my witness, I will see this fucking bizarre place before I die.






Weird. Awesome.
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WORST MOVIE EVER MADE BY MANKIND!

OOOOOOOH! The film The Guardian is on TV right now! This is – far and away – the worst movie ever made by man.

If you asked someone, “What is the worst movie ever made?” most people would say Battlefield Earth or Plan 9 from Outerspace, but the truth is, the worst movie ever made by mankind is this little gem The Guardian.

Let me break it down for you.

Start with: it stars Kevin Costner AND Ashton Kutcher.

Yeah, that’s right.

And! It is a movie about US Coast Guard Rescue Divers (the guys that jump out of helicopters to save your dumb ass after you somehow manage to sink your yacht). And I would like to take a moment here to say: I mean no disrespect to those of you readers who actually are US Coast Guard Rescue Divers - may the lord bless and keep you – you do good work and you deserved a movie better than this one.

So beyond the problem of the casting, this is a movie with a whole lot of “acting” in it. What Hollywood commentators sometimes call “Capital A Acting”. What does that mean? Go watch any movie where Leonardo DiCaprio plays a character whose wife is dead (this is basically every movie that has made since Catch Me if You Can [with the exception of The Departed, but that still counts, see below]) and at some point he will have a “breakdown” and squint his eyes closed tightly and raise one (or both) of his clenched fists to his face (mouth or forehead) and as you are watching this moment unfold, part of your brain will go, “Wow! This MUST be good acting because I can totally SEE how much work and practice Leo put into this.” When you are watching an actor and all you can see is the actor rehearsing the scene in front of the mirror in his Malibu beach house because of how important a scene it is for the character, THAT is Capital A Acting. Also see: Keanu Reeves’ entire filmograpgy (“I AM AN F-B-I AGENT!!!”), everything Ethan Hawke has ever touched.

Basically the problem here is self-important earnestness. That is the problem with Capital A Acting and it is also the problem with this movie The Guardian. This movie is SO self important! In the opening scene, as Kevin Costner is rescuing a stranded boater who is clinging to debris, he actually yells at the man (as they are in the water and the waves are attacking then) “Stay with your flotation!”

After this movie came out (yeah, I saw it in the theater), I spent a month saying to people, “Stay with your flotation!” No one ever seemed to heed my advice, though my advice was never actually applicable.

What The Guardian is, is an entirely Republican movie. It makes a big deal about honoring these people who serve their country and others, but in the process of doing so, it boils their commitment and sacrifice down to some kind of un-nuanced cartoon. It self-righteously applauds the quality of its actors’ performances despite the fact that the quality is simply not there, and it doesn’t ask us to care about any of it, it simply expects us to. I don’t tear up when I watch this movie, even when the score tells me that I am supposed to.

It is simply awful. It is an awful, awful film of the first magnitude.

It is terrible.

It is … the worst film ever made by mankind.

You should totally watch it next time it is on!

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Keep on Dancing (monkey!).

One step forward, two steps back.

If life is a dance contest, I seem to be losing.

(Or, also, if happiness in life is measured in terms of steps forward vs. steps back, I am still – also – losing.)


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A Good Likeness, Me Thinks.

A couple of nights ago I did that reading at a cute little coffee shop called The Rumor Mill and it went very well (I think) and people seemed to enjoy it. After the reading I was outside talking to a couple of people and Joe (the owner of the coffee shop) led two men up to me and they gave me this.



Yeah, that’s right, that’s a sketch of me doing the reading!

This is one of the coolest things that anyone has ever given me! Look how thin they
made me!


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Because You Have Always Wanted to Know.

Why do some coins have ridges?


You're welcome.



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Conversational Strategery.

So my roommate Eggplant (still test driving blog named for her) and I were just talking about stuff and in the course of talking we stumbled across something that we disagreed about and I was getting all geared up to explain to her why she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about and all of the sudden she was all like, “Nope, you’re totally right, I agree.”

And I was bumfuzzled and disappointed because one of my favorite things to do is explain to people why they don’t know what the hell they are talking about.

And then I realized that she wasn’t agreeing with me at all! In fact she was only trying to placate me until it was time for her to leave. She was expressing her disagreement through the strategy of Agreement and that is like one of those perfect chess moves that I don’t know anything about, wherein the opponent is left with literally no options but to flip the table over and storm out of the chess tournament hall. That’s what I felt like. I wanted to go all Bobby Fischer all over the situations, but I realized and accepted that I had been beaten in a game of conversational stratagem (or “strategery” if you’re a Republican).

My roommate Eggplant then did a little victory lap about how we have only been in this apartment two months but she already knows how to win. And apparently it is by ostensibly agreeing with me.

And to this I say, “What the fuck ever.”

I feel like I had commanded the prettiest horse cavalry in all the world, six months into World War I.

I really hope that this whole “I agree with you” thing doesn’t catch on, because I would find it hard to live in a world where there’s no one to get angry and indignant at.


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More New (Especially Bad) Poetry.

So today while I was at work (but only when I was not on the clock, of course) I wrote THREE poems! And they are all terrible! They are so bad that I won’t even bother trying to describe them.

They are below.

Please revel in the consistency of my failure as a poet.


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Poem #1: Aggressively Complicated Rhyme Scheme about Jesus.

Aggressively Complicated Rhyme Scheme about Jesus
By James Bezerra

What if Jesus
was really an alien?
Me thinks that would explain a lot.

Am glad that Jesus
lived then,
and not now.

If Jesus
had been
in our age
he would have had to get on TV.

Suppose that Jesus
got on TV, to talk about your sin
and channel all that Righteous Rage,
would you be curious to see
if his ratings went down or up?

But what if The Jesus
Show got canceled? What would happen?
Would he storm offstage?
Or would he feel free?

I bet that Jesus
would retire from TV with a wide grin,
but always wonder if he had actually facilitated any change.

Then when the alien home world calls on Jesus
and asks how his mission has been,
he would have to say he’s unsure if he won the battler that he fought.


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Poem #2: Wage Slave Haiku.

Wage Slave Haiku
By James Bezerra


To make the rent, I
go to work; do accounting,
waste my life away.

There is part of me
that misses that feeling of
my once potential.

Which feels like it
was poured out for a paycheck,
a very small one.


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Poem #3: Explosions!

Explosions!
By James Bezerra


My poetry is very
Bad.

This is something that I
Know.

Because when I ask people if they like my poetry, they say
No.

If only poetry were more like
Acting.

In Acting one can be
Successful

Even if all of one’s acting is very
Bad.

I am talking to all of you
Kevin Costner
Leonardo Dicaprio
Ethan Hawke
Keanu Reeves

In Acting, a bad performance can be hidden with
Explosions!

In poetry, there are significantly fewer distracting
Explosions!

For instance, this probably won’t distract you:
BOOM!!!

See, not only did it not work, it made this poem more
Bad.



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What’s Up? Do You Like Awesomeness?

I am doing a reading!

On Wednesday August 18th I am part of a reading at The Rumor Mill in Culver City. It is a little coffee shop that’s so badass you can get them to make you a grilled cheese sandwich. Also, while I didn’t actually have any of their quiche, I looked at it pretty hard and let me tell you, I could almost taste it through my eyes, that's how good it is. Plus the chocolate chip cookie that I had was really good . . .

Anyway!

Come out and see me read. They have given me 30 WHOLE MINUTES! One time, at a reading, I made a girl cry, and that time I only had seven minutes. This time I’m going to be reading a story that has like fifteen separate dialogue speakers in it, it’s gonna be a one-man show for 1,800 seconds and you will be sad if you miss it.

Check out this link for details.

If you wanta come in from out of town for this one, you can crash on my couch. I am so excited. It is going to be EPIC!


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Those Evil Gays!

PLEASE READ THIS GREAT EDITORIAL by Jose Fidelino for TIME.

Finally! A married gay man takes responsibility for destroying the holy institution of marriage.

Confessions of a Gay Weapon of Marital Destruction.



I love this article and if Mister Fidelino didn't already have a husband, I would so gay-marry that.


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Songs For My Band's Next Album.

So if you have read this blog before, you know that I am in a completely fake band. We don’t practice or play and that’s good because most of us can’t actually play what you might call ‘traditional’ instruments anyway.

Myself, I play the variable-speed blender and I am getting quite good (not actually) at the harmonica.

What our band does do, however, is amass good song titles. Below are some of the better and best that we have come up with lately.

Tell me that you don’t want to hear these songs. Seriously. Say it with a straight face.


Some of the awesome songs for our next album:


The Rusty Lush

Tasks Heroic and Necessary

Hot Foggy Glasses - (this is stolen from Eggplant).

Infrared Love Story

The East German Mummy Mania Project

Naked Shower Ghost – (this is stolen from Eggplant & The Captain)

Hot and Damp (like laundry)

Electric Shakespeare

Static Kill

Pavilion of Wigs

Chronic Love Captive

Glorious Defilement

A Growing Constellation

The American Asylum

Slunk Traffickers Trail a Pregnant Cow - (this is stolen from William Burroughs)

Fallacy is the only Phallus I got

Lunar Parking is Easy to Find

Burned Nickel is Burnished Metal

Don’t Stop Unless I Say the Safe Word


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Real American (Folk) Hero.

Have you seen this yet?!

It is an animation of what the hell exactly happened when that Jet Blue flight attendant flipped the fuck out. Watch and please enjoy the fact that it is true and accurate.



If you want more, here is an article about the whole thing.

I love that the tag for this article on Yahoo.com asked the question: Criminal or folk hero?

I vote for folk hero. Badass, beer-thieving, inflatable slide-using, super-gay folk hero.

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An Excerpt, Please Be Gentle.

So I have started – very cautiously – doing some writing on a novel that I have been thinking about for years. It will be one of those long and awful and difficult novels (for you and for me both).

I have had the basic pieces in place for a couple of years, but I’m kind of afraid of it. I don’t know if I can write it.

But I figure that this is a good time to do something scary, and since I don’t rock climb or wrestle alligators, this is going to be my scary Everest for awhile. It will probably end up being my white whale (Moby Dick reference! What?! What?!).

So I was going through my (giant plastic tub of) notes the other night and I found this little bit and I was pleased to have written it.

This character lives in an amalgam of San Diego and Los Angeles, so some of the specific reference points may not make any sense, but what do you care? This is all first draft quality stuff anyway.

This is while he is narrating as he drives (sometimes it is in first person, this totally is).

Anyway, I digress. Sometimes I digress so that I can feel better about myself.

I pull off the 15 and onto Friars Road. It’s an eight-lane-wide traffic artery sprawling fat and busy and fertile like some Cal Trans version of a lady-in-waiting. Somewhere a civil engineer runs his thumb slowly along his lower lip and leers at Friars Road. Oh yes, he says to himself, one day you’ll be a freeway too.

Eventually there will be no roads or streets, only freeways of varying width and height. The eminence of their domains eating up everything that one would have been driving to in the first place. Doesn’t matter anyway, we’re all pretty used to driving by now. Driving and driving and driving and driving. At work there’s a guy whose round-trip mileage to and from his cubicle is greater than the distance that a medieval serf traveled away from the place of his birth during his whole life. One day I told the guy at work that. It was the first and last time that we spoke.

In the shimmer and mist of the light rain at night, I start to imagine that the lights of the on-coming cars are little fishers in the drippy present and that sunlight is burning through from the dreams of the future, but when I get there, as the lights pass by me so bright – as I pass through the fabric of the Now, I look out over a ghastly America; it’s all freeway.

The America of our future is all freeways, jammed together, one right along the other, on top of the other, the asphalt hot, the concrete jagged and broken from the sheer tonnage of that much engineering crushing in on itself. Below, through the steaming black tar-filled cracks – as if through the slats in a pier – I can see down below and it’s only more freeways. Above me there is no sky, just a thick spider web webbing of on-ramps and off-ramps and clover leaves and I realize now that there is no sun in the future, only the blazing head lamps of an entire world relentlessly on the move. On the go to no where. Literally. No Where. A mad rush to dawn. Only there is no dawn. The dawn has been replaced by the very lack of itself. There is only going. There is only speed. There is only velocity. There is only eagerness to find a destination.


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PostSecret.com

Postsecret, still the best website on the entire internet.


POSTSECRET.COM







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Mark Twain Weighs In On Mark Twain.

So if you’re a lover of books or words or the people who write books filled with words, then you should go and pick yourself up a copy of the current NEWSWEEK with a picture of Mark Twain on the cover.

Why?

Well most specifically, there is a love letter of an article to Twain, it is ostensibly about his new autobiography (which he declared was to be released until 100 years after his death). But really it is an article about Twain as the best kind of paradoxical American malcontent.

Here is a link to the article: MYSTEIOUS STRANGER

But please don’t just read the article here, go to the corner store and buy a copy of NEWSWEEK. They could really use the money. They just got bought by a gazillionaire who was told by everybody in the industry that the magazine is a dead horse.

The article, by one Mister Malcolm Jones, includes a line that I love. He is talking about Twain’s use of humor and he writes, “But it’s his humor, more than anything, that makes him seem like a friend, a contemporary, maybe not anyone you know, but someone you wish you knew. Humor is famous as a leveling device, but it doesn’t just cut its subjects down to size. It makes democrats and equals of us all. You can’t be funny and talk down to people.”

Anyway, it is a wonderful little article about Twain.

Additionally there is an article about the growth of self-publishing in the digital age, as well as a breakdown of all the interesting and important books that you might have missed out on over the last year.

So go get it and then come back here and leave a comment thanking me.


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Newt Gingrich: Worse Than We Thought.

In other magazine news: Hey, remember Newt Gingrich? He was that kind of awful, incredulous prick who led what is now sanctimoniously called “The Republican Revolution” of the 1990s?

Remember there was always that rumor that while he was witch-hunting Bill Clinton for getting a blowjob that he served divorce papers on his wife while she was in the hospital, because he was having an affair and wanted out of his marriage?

Remember how I nearly broke that TV that time throwing shit at it when he was talking?

Anyway, ESQUIRE magazine - long a waste-of-time publication about men’s hair products or something - has published a very interesting profile of the man, complete with an interview with his wife Marianne.

You can read the interview at esquire.com.

Newt comes off - same as he ever was - as a cross between a bullshit banshee and a cantankerously hypocritical fuck. Basically he’s a cancer on the soul of America. There are special places in Hell for people like this and I can only pray that he lives long enough for his grandchildren to grow up and be ashamed of him.



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Oh, My Unimportant Dilemmas.

So there are three attractive young women out in the pool right now, in bikinis, who are talking about . . . their outreach ministry work.

Yeah.

It has always bothered me that some of the people in the world, with whom I fundamentally disagree, are really hot.


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Q: What Do a Sweaty Dead Russian & Darth Vader Have in Common?

A: They are both in this awesome post!

So you know that one of my favorite places on the internet is the Oddly Enough page at Reuters.com.

Well I was reading a couple articles on my phone today and I came across this one. It is such a winner that I won’t even bother to make a single, silly comment about it.

Man dies in final of sauna championships.

And if that's not your thing when it comes to odd news, there's this:






Yeah, that's Darth Vader. Times have gotten tough for evil since Dick Cheney isn't in office anymore.

Read about that here.

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I Really Apologize For this One.

So rather than writing another cry-y, introspective-y, complain-y blog entry, I am going to take my complaints with the world and with life and put them in a blender and toss in some spices and cliches and present them to you in the style of an especially bad stand-up comedian.

Please enjoy, and remember to tip your waitress.

*

So what’s the deal with ladies? Huh? How come they’re all crazy? Am I right?

They have the same reaction to logic that I do to whole milk! You know what I’m saying? Yeah you do.

How come they don’t call me, is what I’m asking you. The other day I gave this lady my number and she didn’t even call me. Like maybe she was too busy doing here hair or something! You know what I mean? It’s like she didn’t even appreciate the fact that I wrote my phone number on her bathroom mirror with my own blood. You know? Like she didn’t even care that I used my own blood! I did it because it’s way more special then using someone else’s! You know what I’m saying?

But I guess that men and ladies are just diff-er-ent, you know what I’m saying? Like when a lady sees a pair of shoes, she’s all like, “Eek! I totally want to buy those shoes!” but when a man sees a pair of shoes, he’s all like, “I don’t think that you could hunt a wild buffalo is shoes like that! And that’s what I do, I hunt wild buffalo, because I’m a man and that’s what we do!” Right! Let’s hear it men! Right? For hunting wild buffalo.

And you know what else? What’s the deal with airline food? It’s so – like – bad. Right? You know what I’m talking about. You do. YOU in the front row! Look at you! I don’t know if you’re a lady or … you know, a man. Right? I bet you like airline food. Although, you know, it has gotten a lot better. I was on Delta and they gave me some food and I ate some of it and I was all like, “This is not … this is not that bad? In fact I would eat this a lot, if it wasn’t thirty-six thousand feet up in the air. Am I right?

You know what else? What really grinds my gears? Not having anyone to hold at night, against me. Or against their will! Right? You know what I’m saying. Yeah.

That’s it. Thanks everybody.


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The Great Thing About a Blog.

Why does Arianna Huffington annoy me so much? She’s on my side now, politically, but she still annoys me. And it is not just her accent. Maybe it’s because she’s a political carpetbagger. Or because her website - THE HUFFINGTON POST - has the worst and most cluttered homepage in all of god’s creation (even though it is otherwise pretty awesome).

Anyway, she does good work and I respect her, but I can barely stop myself from changing the channel whenever she comes on.

She just said, “This is about right and wrong and there is only one way to go.” But then she didn’t say which way to go (this is, perhaps, an unreasonable criticism that says more about my moral compass than about her speaking style).

Sorry Arianna.

Conversely, Adrianna Lima does not bother me. At all.




P.S.
The great thing about having a blog that no one reads, is that I get to post whatever I want on it.

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A Week in Review.

As much as I complain – and I know that I complain a lot – it was actually an okay week (emotionally anyway, work totally sucked). It was very strange and sometimes hard, but when it is all said and done, I think that it was good-ish. And good-ish is better than god forsaken awful-ish.

So I suppose that is progress.

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Burns & Allen.

When I was a wee lad I used to listen to old radio shows on cassette tapes and one of my favorites was - and is still - The Burns and Allen Show.

If you don’t know Gracie Allen, you should.

Below is her recipe for Roast Beef.

1 large Roast of beef
1 small Roast of beef

Take the two roasts and put them in the oven.
When the little one burns, the big one is done.


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Out-of-Control Inappropriate Awesome/Terrible.

So this is like a year old or something, but I just saw it and thought that it was inspired.




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A Good Day for Love, Freedom.

Judge overturns Calif. gay marriage ban.

You have already heard about it, but here is an article just in case.

I'm so happy about this I might just drive up to San Francisco and marry a dude.

I know that there is going to be a big, nasty appeals fight and everything, but at least for TODAY, love and freedom and - you know - legal common sense won the day.

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UPDATE: Fuck, the judge just stayed the ruling, so I can't marry a dude tomorrow, but this is still a good day, theoretically anyway.
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What I’m Working On.

So I will admit it, I have been a moody little bitch lately. Luckily for those of you who actually know me, I don’t do things like – you know – genuinely express emotion, so you may not have noticed. Seriously, unless you read this blog (or maybe my Facebook updates) you would probably think that I am just a happy-dappy dandy. And you know what? A lot of the time I am, but that’s because I compartmentalize so well. I really do! I am airtight! I’m like a submarine of emotion. I have been reading a little about it on the internet though and – according to medical professionals, and stuff – this is not actually a good thing.

I want to say that I will try to not be that way, but I worry that I might be lying. I’m really not sure how else to get through the day. I mean, how do you get through a day of work when all you want to do is lay down and go to sleep until your life gets better? The only way that I know how to do it is to lock down those feelings and keep going. I’m sure that shrinks have a word for this.

Today is not that bad. But I am very much confused, emotionally right now. There is a lot going on in a lot of different area of my life and I just don’t know what to think about any of it. This is unusual for me. I really have spent a lot of my life (recently anyway) being super-focused on forward movement.

Right now though I just feel like I’m unsure what direction to head in. That is strange for me.

So by this point I’m sure that you have stopped reading this post because of how extremely boring and self-indulgent it is. So since it is just me here and I like the sound of my own words, I will carry on.

Basically I am in a soul-searching kind of place right now. Sure this is all residual break up stuff, but what better time to self-evaluate than a time like this? My biggest concern right now is that I will likely end up being single for a very long time. I always assumed that I was good at being in a relationship because I was basically always in one. This recent break up really damaged me in some fundamental ways and it has called into question a lot of the basic assumptions that I have always made about myself as a person. I think back on some of the stuff that was said and I read over some of the worst text messages (which I saved because I am a masochist or something) and I realize that a lot of the things she said about me are probably true. And these were not nice things.

And so now I am looking back at my life through this new lens and I’m realizing how awful I have been. There were times when I have been a terrible friend and a despicable boyfriend and an even more tragically bad husband. None of the things I’m realizing are over-the-top, they are all pretty small and subtle and low-key kinds of awful, but they seem to add up to a kind of wrenched and ugly whole and I’m not happy about it. But at the same time, I am trying to take ownership of it all.

Now I will pause here for a second and say that, yes, I know that there are people in the world way worse than me and that I am making a big deal out of what are, for the most part, pretty run-of-the-mill life experiences. However that does not make me feel any better about myself.

To sum it all up, I just feel like I have lost the plot of my life. I still have a lot of pain that I am trying to process and I am trying to do it on the go and I am trying to really enjoy the small moments of happy that life affords me right now and I am trying to figure out if there is a way to have people in my life in a meaningful way without completely poisoning them. Right now it seems like that is a pretty tall order, because I just feel like I’m toxic.

So anyway, that’s what I’m working on.


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Cool Houses in Small Spaces.

Do you remember that time when we met and I awkwardly hit on you and you told me that there was no way in hell and so then I was all like, “Well in that case, can we talk about quirky Japanese architecture for awhile?” and you were all like, “Sure, I have nothing better to do”?

Well I was thinking about that yesterday when I heard a story on NPR about some of the especially interesting work that Japanese designers have recently been doing with very small spaces.

Here is a link to the story.

Even if you don’t want to read/listen to it, at least check out the pictures. They look kind of like Ikea bomb shelters of the future.

I love that there are people out there in the world doing really good and interesting work, whatever that work might be.

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Our Big Cadillac.

Most of the email that I get lately is spam. I think that I ended up on some list that got sold recently.

I have the email alert on my phone set to vibrate, so there’s a little party in my pants pocket every time that I get an email and I get so excited to see what new email treasure I have received from the world. Lately though, it always turns out to be something about how I have won a laptop or how I might have unclaimed government money due to me or how I can make $50k a year working part-time from home.

So when I feel that tickle in my pocket and reach on in there, I am invariably disappointed, because part of my brain always thinks that you have finally decided to write me and tell me that you want to run off together. How we should steal a convertible Cadillac and drive across this big country of ours and fall in love while the sun sets over the great plains. How we should eat at roadside diners and always only order whatever that day’s special is. How we will sleep curled up together in the big leather backseat of our big, stolen American automobile. How you will whisper in my ear that this is your best moment in all of your life.

But sadly, you never send me that email. So I am always disappointed.


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Notorious Logic.

If, in fact, mo’ money causes mo’ problems, then - logic would dictate – less money causes fewer problems.

I am not finding this to be true.

Notorious B.I.G. logic: FAIL.


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Republicans Are Terrible.

So you probably haven’t noticed because I’m sure that you have better things to do, but I recently added that word cloud thing down on the bottom right hand side of this here blog. All of those words and phrases are tags that I have used on my past posts and it seems that they are kind of organized based on amount of usage.

I only point this out because – apparently – one of my most frequently used tags is, “Republicans are terrible”.

I am quite proud of this because it happened quite accidently.

So anyway, to recap: Republicans are terrible.
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(I hate to make such a broad generalization and usually wouldn’t be so comfortable doing it, but in this case, I am okay with it. I don’t think that every single Republican is necessarily terrible, but that’s the point. You and I could be fast friends, but when you decide to be a Republican and to identify yourself that way, you’re no longer standing with me, you’re standing with the Sarah Palins and the Tom Coburns and the Rick Santorums of the world. When you register Republican or vote for them or give them money, you are supporting all of their worst elements, the people who oppose gay marriage, who oppose a woman’s right to control her own body, who oppose extending unemployment benefits during the worst economic crunch that you and I are ever going to live through, who oppose fixing our healthcare system. These people are terrible and obstructionist and simply corrosive to the collective soul of our country. And so that’s why they’re terrible. And that is why I will proudly use the tag again right now.)

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Couch Sleeping.

I have been sleeping on the couch a lot lately because it is less lonely than sleeping in my bed. This is probably not healthy.

Going to sleep alone and waking up alone has been a difficult adjustment for me. Obviously.


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