Talking about the weather is more than just awkward, polite elevator conversation when you live in Ohio. The weather here is so cruel and volatile, so secretive with its plans that sunshine feels like a privilege. This week, we are all kind of stoned on the sun; the grass that we took for granted is suddenly this lush bed that we don't want to ( Read more... )

I've started to realize that going to punk shows is one of the healthiest things I can do right now.

I have a weakness for high culture/low culture fusions ( Read more... )

I have been really terrible about keeping this up, not that I've been doing a whole lot better with my actual ink and paper journal. I'm a little embarrassed every time I look at what a sloppy, neglected mess my livejournal's turned out to be; I used to be pretty good at this. I want to somehow get this habit back, it was a good thing for me once ( Read more... )

I had fun with this.

RULES:
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS. CAPITAL LETTERS!!!
4. Tag friends
5. Everyone tagged isn't obligated to do the same thing. CAPITAL LETTERS!!!
6. Have Fun! <--- ( Read more... )

 I am stranded in the Cleveland airport for another hour, making playlists for various loved ones.  If you would like one, I would be delighted to make one for you.

I'm in the lushest paradise on Earth, and all I can think about is getting back to my frigidly cold, messy, hopelessly un-exotic home.  I'm so glad I decided to stay for January.  I think that I will try to read everything Andrei Codrescu has written before the next semester starts ( Read more... )

 Little Boy

On those days when the mystery hammers in his temples

Hums in his lungs like alarm clocks

He squirms in his mother’s arms

He scratches at the door like a dog

And with a sigh, she lets him out

Watches him tear down the street

Gasps a bit at his flapping shoelaces

She misses the days when he was an eight-month bulge

Tossing and baking inside of ( Read more... )

Ode to Umbrella

When you first came to be

when you began to thumb your metallic nose at the sky

vulgar-tongued cabbies in London (the ones sitting in black wheelboxes

staring at a horse’s ass all day) cursed you heartily

for creating a shelter that made them redundant

It has been a long while indeed, umbrella

you  have been bearing the rhythmic attack of ( Read more... )