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 keeps me nervous/but I like it

How to format a memory

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.”

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’ 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. Isabella and I played songs together at hers for a long time yesterday and then it kind of fell apart. Went to a party after with someone I would consider a distant ally in sincerity. Electric citibiked through empty cold-lit FiDi to make the best of a bad party. One day I will meet Jack Kerwin. I had to leave before I really wanted to. 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 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.”

beautiful weird kid.

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.”

watching two hours of youtube tutorials on how to pick your own mailbox lock and staring at piles of clothes

”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. yes 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?

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.”

All young people are sexually retarded (-frances’ ex-therapist)