I am something asunder, where the applause of a silent sing-along, is given its due time being stood up like a tomato plant, driven down straight, dead, and true. So as I mentioned earlier. I am different now. (IT WAS NOTHING SPECIAL) From here to here. And there. And some... somewhere, beneath the what, the… Continue reading Monday, on Line 4
Minus the dashes. I read two answers that rhymed with"Google co-founder" and who-the-hell-cares. Sorry, kids. My distrust of you and your lack of anything interesting going on upstairs has become a full-blown phobia. So I wrote this. Because it works. And it's never a situation you expect to be in. But one day you just might… Continue reading Quora (or: Why I Need to Pull the Plug on “Life Hacks,” relationship advice to those without girlfriends, and explaining why Raskilnikov was a Hero)
"And so be it, We are not there, but here."
OK. It’s 1998. I had just moved to LA. My brother is living in a room no bigger than a jail cell for two. In the span of a month I had lost all faith in everything I was doing but the hell if I was going to leave and not watch it all crash like… Continue reading The Time I Saw A Ghost
Because you don't just choose to become a writer. It's not an open job fair on your college quad. It certainly isn't the Top-10 list-making genre used by respected and no-longer-respected media outlets alike. And it sure as hell isn't because Auntie Yum Yum thought you wrote the prettiest, most emotionally scarred adolescent vampiric prose she had… Continue reading Writing and Why You Shouldn’t Bother
post-apocalyptic-optimists: the manifesto "I assure you, doctor...It is relatively simple matter for a weathered charlatan like myself to put up with so small a carnival as this..." -- Friedrich Nietzsche (post-sanity) ...and here I thought there would be nothing at this party besides the cool, incandescent judgements of a… Continue reading “You ain’t no Howard Hughes…”
A few years ago, I was known as “the guy who walked” -- often putting 7 to 8 miles beneath my feet. And as one buddy of mine commented decades ago, I have the gait of a “determined caveman” often with my head aimed solely toward the path beyond me. (Hancock Park, 2011-12)