December 2010
6 posts
A list of nouns that are addressed by the...
O Freedom, Billy Bragg.
O Girlfriend, Weezer.
O Lilac, Wild Nothing.
O My Soul, Big Star.
O Valencia!, The Decemberists.
O, Dana, Big Star.
Oh Comely, Neutral Milk Hotel
Oh God, Where Are You Now? (In Pickeral Lake? Pigeon? Marquette? Mackinaw?), Sufjan Stevens.
Oh Mein Me, Dum Dum Girls.
Oh Mississippi, Lissie.
Oh My God, Jay-Z.
Oh My God Whatever, Etc., Ryan Adams and The...
For Christmas, I bought myself—
a snow globe of something very, very cool. Located at Carnegie Museum, this is the most formative taxidermied natural history exhibit of my youth.
Man Living Alone On Island Intends To Spend... →
“I say as Páll Óskar does, ‘I am in fine company with myself.’” he said in a brief interview. “I don’t expect any guests, so I guess I’ll be here alone. I will of course cook some good food, but I won’t be off the clock.”
Initial Rolling Stone review of After the Gold...
Neil Young devotees will probably spend the next few weeks trying desperately to convince themselves that After the Gold Rush is good music. But they’ll be kidding themselves. For despite the fact that the album contains some potentially first rate material, none of the songs here rise above the uniformly dull surface.
Shit woah, woah. Just woah. Apparently Rolling Stone did a good job...
November 2010
7 posts
“Oh, strawberries don’t taste as they used to and the thighs of women have...”
– East of Eden, Steinbeck.
1 tag
GOODNIGHT ROSE GOOD NIGHT ROSE SO GOODNIGHT ROSE
In this interview, Conan proves he is helplessly... →
Conan acts out what the internal dialogue would be if you kissed Rebecca Romijn-Stamos on the lips. Genuine, shameless. A towering achievement for idiots and six foot a thousand gingers.
Just solved a year long riddle concerning the name...
It’s High Fidelity, and John Cusack is running home in the rain and then sits in a leather chair soaking wet call and Laura calls and says that he can’t really be that surprised, her and Ian were living together and they were bound to get around to it sometime.
Say a word for Joana Love, she ain’t got nothing at all. Listen Rob, will you have sex with me.
"(Then) they cut my beard and forced me to eat... →
Kentucky man forced to eat his own beard after a tractor sale goes south. Try and tell me this ain’t a Faulkner novella just waiting. Sometimes I think that the world works this way: if you end up a dead famous writer, then you get to sit at a small desk for eternity somewhere and come up with ridiculous stories. God forces people to act it out, then WLWT Cincinnati picks it up and runs it...
THE PERFECT ‘fuck I lost a two hundred and fifty page manuscript’ FRIDAY MORNING MIX!
Astral Weeks VAN MORRISON + Surfer Rosa PIXIES + Astro Coast SURFER BLOOD
On shuffle duh—See what I did there know what I’m sayin
There’s this reverb drone at the end of Catholic Pagan that sounds exactly like the end of a Broken Social Scene song, anybody know what it is? Drink less...
October 2010
2 posts
Semen in the Bible and Quran. →
From Surah 80:17-23
“It is We Who have created you: why then, do you not accept the truth? Have you ever considered the Semen which you emit? Is it you who create it? Or are We the Creator?”
Also, Nutfah.
“I have ice in my glass. And I’ve lost her all over again.”
– Second to last scene in Castaway. Tom Hanks is a tremendous actor. I really can’t say enough about the dialogue in the last three scenes.
September 2010
3 posts
People who've become nouns. →
French finance minister Etienne Silhouette was an unpopular figure in 18th-century France, and when it became known that he was a fan of the cheap art of cutting out figures of people instead of drawing full portraits, the craft took on his name.
Ninety percent of the people I meet confuse me for beer.
Good literature, maybe, is this—one boy reads a piece of intelligent smut and gives it to another boy and him to another until passing it to the one boy who simply cannot handle it and will inevitably tell on himself to a teacher or parent because the challenge of owning such knowledge will pressurize inside of him, until erupting in some perverted and ecstatic need to share.
August 2010
2 posts
Song playlists in my library.
Blonde hair blonde hair.
Bus guitar solo belongs to me.
Float, you fuckers.
Grey nightgown by lamplight.
Last kiss at an airport shalala.
Life nearly defined by green plastic bowl.
Sleep in the bear blanket.
Slow it down, get fucked up.
Sweeping pan over blue corrugated rooftop.
The impossible bottled frog.
Wu, these are the rest of them.
…
Track listings available upon request.
Please everyone. Sit at your desk and read reviews of indie-pop records. Do not go for drives through midnight suburban neighborhoods with your dearest friends and listen to Huey Lewis so loud you are sure the police will come and put you in handcuffs for that thumping and infectious bass waking all the babies in their cribs. Do not smoke copious amounts of marijuana and collapse in fields and...
July 2010
4 posts
Songs from music library that start with...
Everybody Cares, Everybody Understands. Elliott Smith.
Everybody Hurts. R. E. M.
Everybody Knows. Ryan Adams.
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. Neil Young with Crazy Horse.
Everybody Wants To Rule The World. Tears for Fears.
Everybody’s Gonna Be Happy. The Kinks.
Everybody’s Got Something To Hide. The Beatles.
Everybody’s Talking. Harry Nilsson.
Everybody’s Trying...
Recommending some folks.
Not because it’s Tuesday, but here’s some dudes (that’s an ungendered word, by the way) that are capable of killing it with a nice piece of prose.
Monsters, Etc. This one, in particular, I dig.
Online Journals or Digital Moleskine or something. Consistently strong shit, especially when referencing T-Pain.
Wild Tigers I Have Known. This one rocks it.
Painted Fictions. Eh, if I...
June 2010
3 posts
“Writing is a habit, an addiction, as powerful and overmastering an urge as...”
– T. C. Boyle. From the essay This Monkey, My Back.
“The hairy bulldog ladles the coals, and Paz de la Huerta’s body disappears...”
– Excerpt of an article about indie star Paz de la Huerta, who is described by her mother as ‘Genghis Khan meets Marie Antoinette’. From the New Yorker, by Jay Bulger.
March 2010
7 posts
“The problem, if anything, was precisely the opposite. I had too much to write:...”
– Chabon. Wonder Boys.
I'm not a writer, but a few people asked.
Advice on writing—
…… Drink plenty of fluids. …… Carry a notepad everywhere. …… Be honest, not humble. …… Don’t take compliments. …… Think about ego. …… Write every day. …… Disconnect Internet when writing. …… Read Wind, Sand and Stars by Exupery. …… Never throw away or delete...
WatchI posted this earlier (adapted short flick from something I wrote), but now it’s on vimeo so much more accessible. Enjoy it up—I know I did. Directed by the talented friend and director, Patrick Muhlberger.
Isn't it pretty to think so?
Lady Duff Twysden was born Mary Smurthwaite, and acquired her title through marriage. Ernest Hemingway fell for her in the winter of 1924. The following summer, he and his wife joined the Lady Twysden and a few other close friends for a holiday vacation in Spain. The trip did not go as Hemingway hoped—it was revealed that earlier, the hard-drinking, man-eating Twysden had slept with another man on...
feedmenocliches asked: not a question, a comment. you have one of the most beautiful writing styles i have ever read. i read a lot. always have since i was a little girl of three years old. i love words and literature and stories. i love when they crawl under my skin, into my bloodstream. you are among the greats. thank you for sharing your gift.
Get a small collection of my stories in a handmade...
Good morning folks. I have a small officialish announcement in preparation of another official announcement that will come in the next week or so. I know, I know—how red tape of me. With the help of my wingman Peter, I’m self-publishing/book-making/getting some of my more polished words into the hands of all you Internet strangers. The book will be a handmade forty page collection of two stories...
Short film adaptation of one of my stories.
Good morning. Something different for everyone today. Some might remember my twenty-eighth story from my daily fiction sketchbook What We Are Supposed To Do. My good friend Patrick Muhlberger pulled a script out of that scene, and worked with many other talented people to create a six minute short film for entrance into a film contest of sorts called BetrayalFest.
All of the films can be viewed...
February 2010
4 posts
ragefucking asked: why are you so amazing?! and where do you get inspiration from?
What and why I write.
I’m twenty-two, and for the most part my life hasn’t unfurled in quite the way I expected it to. Please don’t hold back the pity for my white, male, privileged ass. I suppose in some ways I’m also a little girl and feel more heartache than I should, but that’s between me and myself. I am not an unhappy person, but every day sadness hardens in new and unexpected places.
The title of my fluid...
What you can do.
Writing is not my day job. I am self-employed and run my own poster press, Infojocks Sports Graphics, where we tell the story of sports through statistical analysis. I consider it something akin to the art of sports statistics. Buy a poster. They are swell.
Being a starving artist never sat too well with myself or the people that care about me, and when I decide to focus all of my energy on...