January-May 2025, still updating.






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 keep me nervous/but I like it

How to format a memory

depreciated shock value shatters up your pores

We’re walking back from the club at 3 a.m. I’m wearing her clothes. The dress is something you could press into service in a chapel in Vegas and there’s a new hole ripped in the crotch of the tights. This is also something that could happen in Vegas. 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.” This is the second thing I’ve said that’s made it into someone else’s song this month.

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

The pay is great, and we’re all cool. Got game?

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’ desires, even as I feel the need to protect myself from them. I prefer people who are more likely to start crying if you touch them than if you don’t. And I liked pressing -’s pissed jeans against her face.

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

We all have our context.