Tuesday, April 29, 2008

my cat is really into eating wheat grass.

remember when it was really popular to get shots of wheat grass? i wonder if she'd like that just as much? i could really go for one of those right now.

Monday, April 28, 2008


I want to work with my hands, outside.
It is hard to learn palmistry on my hands, they are heavily marked by line.

I'm dreaming of travels, of summer, of lists to complete.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

direct quote

"How then did it work out, all this? How did one judge people, think of them? How did one add up this and that and conclude that it was liking one felt, or disliking? And to those words, what meaning attached, after all?"

-Virginia Woolf
To the Lighthouse

I do not know what I like, or if I really like anything, or even if it is possible to really like something. Also, I do not know if liking everything means you like nothing, or in reality, like everything. I also do not know if liking nothing means you like nothing or everything. I also have a lot of questions concerning the ideas of honesty and influence, this goes along with liking or not liking.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Would you like this?

If you want a copy of the last Wigwam tape ever, let me know. Super scaly noise basement shit I did with Miles Haney, of Tapeworm Tapes. Call and respond wind instruments and basic disorder. I will send them for free because it doesn't really matter and you're probably my friend.

Monday, April 14, 2008


I used to watch The Jungle Book a lot, that and Dumbo.

My mom lent our copy of The Jungle Book to a friend of the family, and we never got it back. Dumbo just wore out and my mom was tired of buying copies of it.

She sent me an e-mail today that said she bought an anniversary addition of The Jungle Book at Costco. We're going to watch it together next time I'm home. Moms are so nice. She's also very excited that it's on DVD, because she's moving up in the world.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

thoughts in my head for today

Sometimes I think that I shouldn't be a writer, that it is just too much trouble to worry all the time. I'm just so uncertain about it all, because I don't think it is ever anything anyone is ever certain about, or at least the smart people who realize that not everything, or hardly anything, makes any sense. I also think that there is no "right" or "wrong" way to write. This is just insanity. I am really grateful that there are so many different ways to say the same things. If I was a writing teacher I would never tell them not to do anything, except maybe use cliches, but even those are good. I love using cliches in my work in different sarcastic ways. I realize that I sort of have to be a writer because I couldn't ever stop writing or reading. It makes a lot of sense to me, and even if I'm a "bad" writer I shouldn't really care. I miss being younger, like in high school, and not caring at all what people thought about my writing. It made me feel better about the world around me, like I could create it the way I wanted it to be in the first place. I'm not really sure how I want to write other than the way that makes sense to me at the time. I change my mind a lot because I am a Gemini and I think it is just part of my nature to change my mind about everything all of the time. I have a hard time trusting people who believe they have an identity, or that they are some person. I haven't really thought that I've had an identity since high school when I was sure that I was punk. I'm not really so certain of anything now and I feel really balanced because of that. I also think people are lonely and sad for a majority of the time and I wonder what makes them that way. A lot of people blame it on technology, and I think that's some of it, but I think people were lonely and sad before computers as well. It was just that they had something else to make them feel that way.

As I was waiting for the Q train to Manhattan last night there was an older man (what did he look like? I don't really remember) and he was playing traditional Russian music on an accordion. He had an empty peanut jar to collect money in and my roommate said, "It is as if he's not really expecting much to come from that." I just thought that maybe he just eats a lot of peanuts. The entire platform of people watched him and maybe we felt somewhere else, somewhere special, not waiting anything anymore. Another man (he looked different, but how?, brown hair, bigger face) started to dance, he didn't seem present. I don't know if he was drunk, or just somewhere else. He almost seemed as if he was dancing with someone not present. Like he time traveled somehow, like he made himself somewhere that mattered. I wanted to know who he was dancing with, and who he was when he was dancing with that person. I think we can time travel. I am so glad that we can time travel.

Friday, April 11, 2008


Sometimes I think I take myself too seriously.

Tao mentioned that it's Spring Time, and he's right. I'm going to Florida soon and I hope to see more friends (because I miss everyone all of the time) and I also plan to pet Hemingway's cats.

I guess, right now, I'd just rather figure out how to read palms than read critical essays on The Turn of the Screw.

I think jokes are really really important.