Posted: April 29th, 2011 | No Comments »

saw white fang last night at the bookstore. oh lord awesome. totally joyful melodic shredding. they started off by saying, “we don’t give a fuck, and we don’t think you should either.” the drummer was wearing flip-flops. the cover of their new record (above) is a picture of the lead singer’s uncle at age 18 after his first concert (slayer). JUSTIFY.



Posted: April 27th, 2011 | Tags: | No Comments »


Posted: April 23rd, 2011 | Tags: | No Comments »

Time Wasting Experiment 0045
Alyson Provax

“The ‘Time Wasting Experiments’ are an ongoing series of letterpress prints I’ve been producing which document time wasted. These are in part inspired by tracking ‘billable hours’ but also come from the compulsion to always be doing things and producing objects. This series is a sort of audit of how I spend my time, but the prints could also be thought of as permission slips allowing you to spend a period of time in a wasteful way (maybe recontextualizing a private, shameful activities into something which one tries to get done in a set amount of time).”

can’t believe the time durations aren’t longer. 480 minutes wasting time. 5000 minutes agonizing. ETC. ETC.

hospital beds

Posted: April 20th, 2011 | Tags: | No Comments »

my mom rented a hospital bed for her recovery period. except we decided she should go ahead and sleep in her room, so i’m sleeping in it instead. fact: sleeping in a hospital bed when you don’t need one…kind of weird. i tried to normalize it by cranking up the head part and lying in it and eating TCBY yogurt and watching basketball, which is 65% working.

i read jennifer egan’s book, a visit from the goon squad, in two days, which i chalk up to a combo of easy read, short book, lots of time at the airport, lots of time at the hospital, and no special fast reading skill of my own. i folded down lots of pages that got me, essentially the entire chapter excerpted in the new yorker — “safari” — plus the “great rock and roll pauses” chapter, but here’s one great one:

There was a pause, during which Sasha was keenly aware of Coz [her therapist] behind her, waiting. She wanted badly to please him , to say something like It was a turning point; everything feels different now, or I called Lizzie and we made up finally, or I’ve picked up the harp again, or just I’m changing I’m changing I’m changing: I’ve changed! Redemption, transformation — God, how she wanted these things. Every day, every minute.

I’m changing I’m changing I’m changing: I’ve changed!


someone please buy me this blazer

Posted: April 20th, 2011 | Tags: | No Comments »

feel free to buy this for me or direct me to a thrift store where i can find a similar one for $565 less.

going there

Posted: April 9th, 2011 | No Comments »

found this on karaj: jack gilbert’s “going there” from the great fires.

gilbert wrote the poem that’s been on my fridge for two years now, “waiting and finding.”


Posted: April 8th, 2011 | Tags: | No Comments »

so music. it’s officially better than art. DON’T TELL ANYONE I SAID THIS. but it’s better (for me). insides are scrambly, a mess, a wet mess, sensitive, overthinking, dumb, egocentric, and just listening to music — “empire state of mind,” “hounds of love,” “sunday bloody sunday” — on loudness 11 — all mad popular jams, nothing special, nothing revolutionary, and yet STILL they incite me to turn it around and forget. get outside of myself. i wish i could have a tape player in my head that i could turn on loud when i get a total bad attitude at work and start sulking at meetings and getting my hackles raised about nonsense. i guess technically i do have a tape player in my head? but not actually. and not as loud. and not technically at all. at any rate:


getting people wrong since 1974

Posted: April 8th, 2011 | Tags: | 1 Comment »

reminded of this. almost every day.

You fight your superficiality, your shallowness, so as to try to come at people without unreal expectations, without an overload of bias or hope or arrogance, as untanklike as you can be, sans cannon and machine guns and steel plating half a foot thick; you come at them unmenacingly on your own ten toes instead of tearing up the turf with your caterpillar treads, take them on with an open mind, as equals, man to man, as we used to say, and yet you never fail to get them wrong. You might as well have the brain of a tank. You get them wrong before you meet them, while you’re anticipating meeting them; you get them wrong while you’re with them; and then you go home to tell somebody else about the meeting and you get them all wrong again. Since the same generally goes for them with you, the whole thing is really a dazzling illusion. … The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It’s getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That’s how we know we’re alive: we’re wrong. Maybe the best thing would be to forget being right or wrong about people and just go along for the ride. But if you can do that — well, lucky you.

– Philip Roth “American Pastoral”


Posted: April 3rd, 2011 | Tags: | No Comments »

today i decided to lay out and turn my white asparagus legs into beige aspargus legs. i think this is the first time i’ve laid out since i was 12. it was totally boring. i only lasted about 40 minutes (back and front). i called it quits when my neighbor walked up as i was lying on my stomach getting sun on my (very wide, very pale) backside, and he was like, “heh…getting a tan?”