erratic scribbler

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spring cleaning and other hazards to your pet
2007-04-22 17:30:00
Ah...Spring is in the air. Flowers are in bloom, the trees are Lazarusing themselves from winter's twiggy slumbering cave, neighbors are drinking iced tea in verdant backyards, gangstas selling crack on sunwashed sidewalks, I hear animals fucking in the bushes and see people touching each other a little more deliberately, electrically, portentously, obviously, libidinously. But as I sit in the open-windowed comfort of my apartment for hours on end reading Infinite Jest and committing, commiserately, to doing more of the same for weeks (and months, likely) on end, I realize I'm going to have to clean this fucking place up if I want to avoid getting too close to a Unabomber-style existence.So after coffee this morning, I dug in by first creating an iTunes playlist for cleaning, a mix of songs intended to keep me alternately pumped and singing without crossing the line into exchanging the most recent dirty dish for my guitar and playing along. In the midst of doing the dishes and scr...
More About: Cleaning , Ring , Azar , Hazard

starving artist
2007-04-18 21:13:00
Last night found me once again ghosting my favorite bar in this little neighborhood for the weekly open-mic night. Despite my proclivity for staying in the background (except for when I can no longer resist the urge to subject the crowd to my Philip-Morris-affected renditions of Counting Crows songs), I somehow ended up talking to a lot of weirdos people. And, as is the protocol in the US, after asking my name, these people wanted to know what I do for a living.Somehow we've confused who we are with what we do to an alarming extent. I can only think of a few people throughout history who so perfectly were what they did, people for whom the line between self and work was thin or non-existent. Could Mozart have not created music? Van Gogh paint? Kerouac write? I don't think so.But for most of us, especially at this time in this country, this is not the case. We are a nation of people who think one thing and do another, for at least eight hours each day at least five days each week. ...
More About: Artist , Star , Ving , Artis

scribbler on demand
2007-04-16 21:51:00
I might be the first blogger in history who has received a request for a new post after his or her second post. Usually such an entreaty is reserved for more established bloggers, such as Dooce or Miss Britt or Avitable. Yet here I am, essentially still dripping with digital placenta, catering to the threatening and shaking fists of my adoring masses.I will, of course, acquiesce.The other night, as I lie exhausted yet with sleep as elusive as ever, I began to think about babies. It's a common question among new mothers to wonder what babies dream about as they watch their swaddling younglings kicking about and smiling in their cribs. Because at first they can only see light, and because after that they don't have a lot of experience saved up for what dreams may come, we tend to think that they can't have much to dream about at all.But it's exactly that lack of experience that gives babies so much to dream about. Every light is a new event, every sound a blessedly fresh oral orde...
More About: Crib , Demand , On Demand

adrift and awake in this lightness
2007-04-15 15:37:00
your bed isn't made, which isn't like the you of now but reminds you of the you of ago. dirty dishes are piled in the sink like the blood of seven years yore. little animals scurry from the vacuum cleaner, not from instinct or its horrible modern noise, but simply from a lack of familiarity. the only thing that makes any sense is your desk but like everything else you want to leave it alone yet cannot; it's too interesting.the reasons you cry away so many lonely nights are innumerable. count the sands of the sky, the stars in the hourglass, the eyelashes of your favorite actress, the halted breaths of a hurricane until you forget your abc's and your 1-2-3's. suffer beatings by feather-stuffed schoolmarms for being more goldfish than elephant. at least you can swim. at least you're golden.last week you traded rolls of pennies for breadloaves, dashing your eyes from the knowing Pakistani behind the counter. there was a line at the soup-kitchen, but you felt you possessed too muc...
More About: This , Wake , Light , Ness , Drift

one way to begin
2007-04-13 01:42:00
Here are a few odd things about me:I can't not head-bang at the cool part of Bohemian Rhapsody.I also sometimes pick my nose.I never open my blinds so I'm not worried about the neighbors seeing me.One of my favorite things is slipping on a new pair of socks.I love the word 'murple' because a friend of mine made up to have a word that rhymes with purple. It's that thing women do sometimes when they laugh and cry at the same time.The recent passing of Kurt Vonnegut makes me sad, but mostly because I realize that for as much as I love his writing, I've only read three of his books.I love weird music that few few people haven't even heard of.But I also love Kelly Clarkson.Later, once I set this template up to be something other than shitty standard blogger (the missionary-style of blogger templates), I'll have more to say.In about three months, you'll be in love with me. And likely I with you. Don't sweat it.It's never too late to have a happy childhood.