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 my 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 going to remember you by.” I say maybe you won’t have to. This is the second thing I’ve said that’s made into a song this month and I shouldn’t say what the other one is. It made me embarrassingly happy. We sleep late and the next day I am still almost flat broke but still kicking. I listen to two people I love talk about old cars. I don’t sample this house’s wine fridge. I exchange most of a stolen bar of dark chocolate for Vi’s shift meal, which is white rice and spiced chicken. I get in the ride back to Palmetto 2 and we lift the mattress onto the floor in a room like a warmly like cave. Sleepover magic. I love my friends very much.

”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.