May 2012
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April 2012
12 posts
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Oh man this lite muzak duet, I seriously need some...
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Spotify has been leading me to some embarrassing...
It’s not that I’m wrong, you’re just not asking the right question.
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It’s easy to forget just how famous and...
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Listen
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“[Q]ueers are getting dumbed down at a rate far exceeding the requisite hosing...”
– James McCourt, Queer Street
BEWARE GIRLS: the call is coming from inside the house!
(via macartney)
Ding ding ding!
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March 2012
2 posts
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February 2012
3 posts
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When picking up the keys yesterday I was informed that the bird I’m meant to be sitting may in fact be dying. So. It has now become a bird hospice situation, possibly. Further updates as warranted.
January 2012
3 posts
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My sister has a very accurate, if often baffling, memory. She emailed me today this link, saying “I remember vividly sitting on the subway with you as you read this, back in the balmy summer of 2001.” It is true, it was balmy, and we were taking the train to Coney Island. Though why I was reading the Daily News is a question lost to time.
Regardless, In the Annals of Headline Poetry,...
December 2011
2 posts
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There is no way to not sound braggy about this but that short piece that ran on Metazen has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and I’m a bit stunned and humbled (stumbled?) so there you go.
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November 2011
2 posts
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October 2011
9 posts
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All Apologies by Mike Dressel →
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September 2011
9 posts
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While I was away I received this desperate electronic missive from my sister:
Do you remember a book you gave me to read in high school – it was sort of like “My So-Called Life” with a heroine who started dressing from thrift stores and making new friends, smoking pot, etc, in the 1990s? She loses her virginity in a sleeping bag at a lake or something. It may have been written by a dude…? ...
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August 2011
4 posts
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Phantom Friend Syndrome
Sometime during college we diagnosed a condition we named Phantom Friend Syndrome. It is (likely) relevant to mention this was first experienced when some permutation of our extended clique was on psychedelics. It was the panicky moment of being less a thing, like in the way one might—being high—constantly check one’s pockets for a set of house keys, or a wallet, or whatever....