I always come back to my writing places with a sense of dread and resurrection. I haven't written here in some notable or at least flippantly mentionable amount of time, and now that I return I'm sure everyone expects something florid and bathetic, with flashes of self-indulgent brilliance, or intelligent spectacle, or something like that. I have ( Read more... )

About five minutes ago, Tea Leoni called bullshit on my "host profile" at the hotel. It is bullshit, and it isn't. My name really is Corey Absher, and I am, in a way, from Topeka, Kansas. She scoffed, her face physically recoiled, and she said, "I don't know if I believe that." "It's true," I said. Part of it is true. The first paragraph is a ( Read more... )

For some reason, obvious or inexplicable, this really tickles me. While uninteresting, it is at least nominally funny, right? Ug. Donkeylips. Budnick. Pinsky. Venus DeMilo as Telly?

Pickens died of a brain tumor. Too soon?

Beverly stares at Linus without a hint of emotion on her face. A long beat.

Suddenly, a snow-covered ROBBER in a tee shirt dampened shoulder-to-chest enters weilding a HANDGUN. He points it at Beverly, whose eyes pop.

ROBBERRegister. Open it. Give me the money ( Read more... )

Lost, today I wandered over to the book shelves and picked up Julian Jaynes's The Origin of Consciousness... Inside, I found an old Magritte Collection postcard, the one with the pipe on it that reads "Ceci n'est pas une pipe ( Read more... )

WASP: Sir, you are a Welsh cuckold, and a prating runt, and no constable.

BRISTLE: You say very well. Come, put in his leg in the middle rounder, and let him hole there.

WASP: You stink of leeks, metheglin, and cheese, you rogue.

BRISTLE: Why, what is that to you, if you sit sweetly in the stocks in the mean time? If you have a mind to ( Read more... )

Today's suggested dosage of facts given without context to pathetically suggest that I'm interesting as a person:I took professional photos today of an empty casket in a large studio on Olympic Boulevard ( Read more... )

They got five televisions
In a house full of three:
Look upon that fake fireplace,
You know the buck-toothed boy’s me.
See that wood panel room,
That’s where I learned to drink.
You see that hole in the wall-
That was Seagram’s, I think( ... )

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion( ... &tc. )

8. It’s Tuesday, March 6th, and I’m in Dr. Colosimo’s cramped waiting room. ( . . . )