Friday, June 01, 2012

Not to be all Debbie Downer

Goodness, Ryan, we've been remiss in updating this old haunt. Let's redress that wrong.

I write to report I'm headed this weekend to New Orleans, for the birthday shenanigans of a great friend of blog. Last time I visited NOLA I was sad but hopeful. I'm curious how it's doing now.

So that's happening.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

This Is Where You Go To Talk About The Mix CDs

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Little Joe

So, my brother (let's call him Joseph) has a kid who's hilarious. She calls my brother Joe (he's her step-dad), and thus I am "Little Joe" and my dad is "Big Joe."

Okay, I find her hilarious anyway.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

If It's Plastic, I Don't Think It Counts As Being Dead

Glass balls and glowing lights.
Dead tree in living room.
Killed to honor birth.

Saturday, December 17, 2011


No sky
No earth - but still
snowflakes fall.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Soundtrack by: Talking Heads

Last night I had a dream that I was a newly arrived exchange student in Germany. (Specifically, either Munich or Berlin. I'm not sure which, and it doesn't really matter since I've never been to either.)

I was living in a house owned by a very old woman, who housed a bunch of other exchange students, in what was sort of a festive atmosphere—almost like a dorm or something, since the old woman stayed mostly in her room with her caretaker, and we were left to do whatever.

Notwithstanding the innocuous outward appearance, there was something truly nefarious about the house, and I set upon investigating right away. In almost no time, I discovered in the basement a modern-day dungeon, complete with sliding bullet- and smash-proof glass doors, which locked with electronic keypads. Various stainless-steel torture tables and devices occupied the cells. It was way creepy.

It turns out, one of the "students" was actually this crazy serial killer dude who worked in cahoots with the caretaker. They would wait for the house to get stocked full of new students and then, in a night of pure evil, systematically torture to death the students in the chambers downstairs.

I had filled the last remaining vacancy in the house, so crazy-murder o'clock was once again here.

Um, filling in some gaps here: the old woman would be drugged the night of the murders. She would awaken remembering nothing and agree with he caretaker and one remaining "student" that they really ought to get some more exchange students.

Also, the caretaker was a reluctant accomplice to the psycho dude. I'm not really clear on why—he had some blackmail on her or something. But anyway, she's the one who explained the whole shebang to me. So, you know, a few points off her evil score.

Additionally, I'm not at all clear what they did with the bodies. Or why no one was looking for the missing students.

Anyway, so somehow I ended up helping to dismantle the whole thing (not before a few more students died; oops). And then? Me and the remaining students went out for a celebratory drink (at the local mall, of all places) before returning to sleep at? The murder house. Which is really just odd.


I'd like to note that my reactions to this dream were all over the place. It was genuinely upsetting. But, really, I'm mostly just disappointed in my subconscious (or whatever) for operating on such lame stereotypes. Really, brain? Your psycho killer is once again some German dude? I mean, come on.

Saturday, November 12, 2011


I don't think I'm getting smarter anymore. I think I'm just getting good at looking things up.