last october i failed to finish a really fun bike race. failing to finish (also called "dead fucking last" or dfl) is sort of my style in these type of things. i feel it shows just the right lack of effort, like if i had cared to abide by the rules i might have won. since it was in oakland i most assuredly would not have won and am clearly ( Read more... )

things have changed and i am re-growing my temerity like an axolotl to an eyeball or brain part or some other amazing feat of regeneration. riding to the beach strikes a match in my guts, the same demitasse of adrenaline that comes from sneaking into the movies with your friends to see the new adventure fantasy farce and eat dumpstered popcorn. and ( Read more... )

making stuff and doing things, where did you go? how is it that the davis fucking whole earth festival can remind me i need to be more punk? i'm totally and obviously losing it, losing the effortless elan of a-ks spray painted on your hot pink underpants, losing that certain je ne sais brah. i as usual blame a variety of causes in a whirl of ( Read more... )

what a fucked up winter; seriously aught-six what was your fucking damage me and aught-seven are way hitting it off and there's a beautiful set of seagull wings curing in the backyard. that day seemed to rain promises of spending my mid-winter days rescuing starfish and finding gutted rockfish to feed to tragic broken-winged birds, coming home with ( Read more... )

we got a button maker and a quiver full of janky arrows and now we're all set for the rev; last night i dreamed you were wearing the quiver and i was so upset because it was my turn. you dreamed you were telling me about a wallet you needed to find and a window in your closet door because even when we're sleeping we want to hang out. all the bees ( Read more... )

found a bat hanging on a brick wall downtown; clinging upsidedown with rigor mortised toes and it certainly could have been alive except something or other had eaten its eyes. remembering all the rabies-prevention protocol i had never bothered to listen to i scooped my new mexican free-tailed and rather pungent friend into a pink gift bag while ( Read more... )

i've still never been to the lost coast; a busted clutch and three, count 'em three self-destructing tires [ we're talkin' six inch gaps in the sidewalls ] conspired for a full week to keep me just out of reach of that wildbriny wildness. but we camped in the "mini-appalachia" with back-to-the-landers just outside of whitethorn and slept on a futon ( Read more... )

coming home to epic metal mixtapes and mutual crushes in faraway places; there's not much more i could ask for.

living in a hive where the honey tastes like egyptian licorice and the bees want you to go swimming and pick blueberries every day with them can certainly get to be a habit; despite the mosquitoes i feel less and less inclined to go home. what, after all, could be more homelike than a palatial victorian manor replete with gold and velvet wallpaper ( Read more... )

writing on glowing screens in the montreal library with window-walls behind me and watching the traffic reflections; i feel like i`ve set up some kind of camp here with my bag and my books and my what-have-you spattered around me like i`m some kind of jackson pollack. i can`t figure out how to bring some yarrow home with me and plant it and make it ( Read more... )