January-May 2026






not over my dead body of work

closed circuit camera pin-up

”I’m vilifying you, for God’s sake, pay attention!”

cosmic thrills

The world is fucked up and the rent was just paid -zach

Rome is what you make of it.

everything’s coming up roses (ch)

take me off your wishlist of enemies

it keeps me nervous; but I like it

depreciated shock value shatters up your pores

I tell her about the words I spelled out on guitar necks in electrical tape as a teenager: HEY SPACE CADET and WOULD U BE AN OUTLAW... On the walk home, she plays Thirteen. ”I hate that this is the song I’m gonna remember you by.” ”Hey, maybe you won’t have to.”

”I’m driving on a bridge when I remember I’m God/ & I forgot to save my draft of the Mississippi River.”

I need that in speech bubbles right now

Once again, the similarity need not surprise. There are not so many ways of laying out the criminal dead.

I, I want a name when I lose

right then, God could move. not yet.

I stay shy, you stay shy

I’m in the zone of impossibility while you’re online.

We don’t play to a metronome-
No, we play to Lynn Perry.

”All my less-oral-than-I-want-it-to-be histories.”

I can only ever get myself to cry about three things and one person. I don’t need an autobiography.

You can have a hard time remembering that other people experience desire or want during sex, if most of what you’ve experienced is boredom/pleasure/force/pain. I have a disbelief in the authenticity of others’ desire, even as I feel the need to protect myself from it. I prefer people who are more likely to start crying if you touch them than if you don’t.

for the sake of the scene, we should end the citing

We all have our context.

I just finished writing most of a song on the acoustic. This time last year I wasn’t playing it. I refused to let anyone else play it. So happy as the end goes right. Open vernal window. Some days it feels like Midland, or like fiction. My good reasons to stay in my room tonight confer the choiceless peace of late-game covid: I think I am avoiding a party at Palmetto, but I am only mixing up the dates. And I know I shouldn’t sleep in Queens tonight if I want to tomorrow. And the show 5 min away is more deja vu than I’m up for (and the tag on the roof got covered up anyway, believe me, I checked).

I’m not sure how to write something with three people I’d all address as ”you” in the same story.

”They’re like Gay Hunter S. Thompson”

”My situation is, was, I was kind of like addicted to running into traffic. Yeah, I just liked how fast they went and I wanted to be with them.”

All things are interwoven and unravel.

”Well, we’re not always appropriate.”

Like, I’ll- people think I’m gay. People think I’m straight. People think I’m a fucking woman or a man or trans or they don’t know who the fuck- and that’s great!- cause really, like, I’m, I’m, uh...benevolent mother. I’m father of the house. I’m, a piece of shit. I’m a great guy.

soul joke

I have no time for girls who don’t read.

”It was the worse for him because he was condemned to love without forewarning of love’s nature. His sickness was unremitting and incurable- a state of desire, chaste, innocent of aim or name.”

”Ground Control, can you confirm sense of his dark secret? Its trying to show itself to me, secret holder’s back pain correlated with said grey matter. Must get to the bottom of this.”

released January 1, 2001
Graham Smith, probably some other people who would rather confess to literal crimes than their involvement herein

”I’m having some difficulty with this scene because it requires undoing the years of therapy and drugs I did to never treat you like this again.”

Ah. Deus ex Hollywood.

nightmare where several things I’m scared of happened but from which you were curiously absent. you are something I’m scared of happening.

”Preposterous they were, indeed; so is a rose; so are the solemn arguments of average, upright citizens.”

In dog we thrust -frances

Keep the semi-secular faith in all the lonely nights in London

Can you put one of the sexy Marvin Gaye albums on

Get any shiners?

it hurt to see you in the way it hurt to see ballet after I stopped dancing

You once described Nuts, the experimental fashion magazine we work on together, as ”something only a human would spend so long making -- a dead end this deep.”

He pays close attention to me as I say this before replying, ”I think this person was a best friend.”

What? I don’t know Morse code.
It’s not Morse code, it’s the drums for Be My Baby.
Oh, well in that case, I agree.

how to pray incessantly

To get straight to the worst, what I’m about to offer isn’t really a short story at all but a sort of prose home movie, and those who have seen the footage have strongly advised me against nurturing any elaborate distribution plans for it.

pure and complicated

”I can’t excuse it, regrettably, but I insist on trying to explain it.”

”The answer is disturbingly interesting. There is in general no consciousness in the Iliad. I am saying ’in general’ because I shall mention some exceptions later. And in general therefore, no words for consciousness or mental acts. The words in the Iliad that in a later age come to mean mental things have different meanings, all of them more concrete. [...] There is also no concept of will or word for it, the concept developing curiously late in Greek thought. Thus, Iliadic men have no will of their own and certainly no notion of free will. Indeed, the whole problem of volition, so troubling, I think, to modern psychological theory, may have had its difficulties because the words for such phenomena were invented so late.” (jaynes)

”...the basic impulse of the Homeric style: to represent phenomena in a fully externalized form, visible and palpable in all their parts, and completely fixed in their spatial and temporal relations. Nor do psychological processes receive any other treatment: here too nothing must remain hidden and unexpressed. With the utmost fullness, with an orderliness which even passion does not disturb, Homer’s personages vent their inmost hearts in speech; what they do not say to others, they speak in their own minds, so that the reader is informed of it. Much that is terrible takes place in the Homeric poems, but it seldom takes place wordlessly:[...]” (auerbach)

Do you listen for sound in your dreams?

And to all of you down there, on Earth: we love you...from the moon.

or are we above that?
or are we beneath that?

I just want to lie in bed and read the shit you make up

One of the most important things any of us can do is know who we love

It’s sentimental. It’s violent in the right places.

Me and you and the GDCs

Emotional Young Person Just Like Yourself

he has a way of breaking language just by being himself,

No one is coming to be careful and good to you.

Gonna just keep it tight, and uh, battle the forces of evil.

Do what you must. You know, that boy wanted to share his life with you.

”I went to Hope and everyone knew you.”

”I’m not gonna say anything because I know you know it’s stupid, but you are someone who chases the interesting and the stupid.”

Nobody knows what a body can do

Everyone in Bloomsburg, PA is the salt of the Earth; decent, kind, hardworking people just trying to live free. Everyone in Manhattan must be faced with spiritual cynicism of the highest caliber.

God, it’s been so long I’ve forgotten who gets tied up.

”Theo is Rarity F. Kennedy Jr.”

Damn, I hate being a foregone conclusion.

- staying in the car to listen to the end of the song

It’s not like that, I’m just really glad she exists.
You should tell her that.
Nah, she knows.
Still.