I don’t know what I’m doing.
I should stop telling people how I feel.
GG Alan Jackson Five Iron Frenzy.
When I’m asleep, I don’t dream about this world.
I should probably sell everything.
What’s the point?
I hate this feeling.
When you are not around, I am afraid, uncomfortable, nervous, and sad.
How did you do that?
Nearly everywhere, in almost every circumstance, I do not feel like I fit in. I have always felt this way.
I’m always in awe of how cool you are.
When you talk about the projects you’ve been working on, it makes me happy.
What’s your goal?
Every time you tell that story I smile.
What makes you laugh?
You are the most attractive person in the room. Does someone tell you that often enough?
Tell me your life story.
What drives you?
Living in a world with music and art, then being forced to work a soulless job that aids the slow decline of civilization, is like living in a zoo as free people watch and laugh holding Starbucks.
I miss you. More than you know.
What are you up to?
How are you?
Too bad I hate both tripe AND babies.
Let’s say you make a thing. Let’s say it is primarily in a digital space. Let’s also say you would like to interact with people who like your thing.
How do you facilitate this interaction? Which social media outlets do you prefer? E-mail? Phone calls? What works for you?
This is important. Very.
Meh. I’ve seen better.
See, Liberal people drive like this, and Republican people drive like that.
Joke, observation, insight insight insight, emotional freakout, detached statement, meta meta, beautiful string of text, forwarded link.
Enough with the hipster bullshit, please.
As someone who spent most of his life on the phone, I understand how annoying it is to get bad customer service when you are trying to be polite. But when you start a call yelling, drop a string of profanity, and threaten me with legal action and physical violence, I want to tell other people to never shop at the national chain for which you happen to handle payroll.
Not a lot of stuff from my youth holds up as well as I’d like, but when I was 19, the Germs were everything to me. Over 20 years later, they still hold my attention.
The only church I care about.
(Would you like to help me test market a new podcast I’m working on? It features Marla and I talking about life in Salem, and what we do to pass the time. We’re still fine tuning, but we have a pilot episode. Care to listen?)
I am obsessed with these. They are delicious.
Got an official rejection from a job I was interested in. I has already guessed not, given how long it had taken then to even respond, but it still stung a bit.
I’m so happy to be attending this 40-Hour waste-of-time every week, where the person I love is forcibly kept away from me during the productive hours of the day. My back and eyes hurt constantly, but that’s okay. Maybe they’ll offer me overtime again by making me feel guilty about my contributions this week? Who knows?
It’s a good thing Mother’s Day is over. Now we can return to treating women like second class citizens again. Has anyone considered infringing on women’s reproductive rights? What about paying them less? C’mon people, I can’t do this alone.
Can we stop culturally pressuring women to be mothers when they don’t want to be? Sometimes, a person is perfect without having had children.
Just recorded a podcast for the first time in quite some time. Hopefully this can be heard soon enough.
One… Two… Three! Fight! Happy Mothra’s Day.
Children are the worst. Happy Mother’s Day.
There is no other. Happy Mother’s Day.
You look Divine. Happy Mother’s Day.
Here’s hoping your Mother Box always pings you back. Happy Mother’s Day.
Rock on. Happy Mother’s Day.
Watch out for rat monkeys. Happy Mother’s Day.
Who do you have to stab to get a packet of crisps around here? Happy Mother’s Day.
My mom’s band, Borrowed Time, late ’60’s era. She’s on the far left. Happy Mother’s Day.
Happy Mother’s Day.
Happy Mother’s Day.
This day is already 1000% better.
The first batch of artist’s copies of The Shindig Shakedown are in the mail. If you sent me your address, you’ll be getting one. I have few more to send, so: have I missed anyone?
Apparently this is one of those “cry at you desk” days I’ve heard so much about.
My grandfather, grandmother, arrowhead collection, and me. This photo makes me cry.
I want to find all the Easter Eggs that will help me understand your heart.
There just isn’t enough symbolism, cultural references or emoji to tell you how I really feel.
Did you bring enough post-modern theory for everyone?
I want to know you as well as a shared cinematic universe.
Which k-hole leads to a better world for everyone?
How many pills and therapists will it take before we see the world the way it looks on TV?
Can I binge watch some love and affection instead?
What are you shoveling into the void to help you pass the time? Liquor? Cigarettes? Weightlifting? Breaking Bad? Marvel’s Secret Wars? Sex?
You will never understand
How it feels to live your life
With no meaning or control
And with nowhere left to go.
You are amazed that they exist
And they burn so bright…
Every day I have to go to that shithole of an office I feel my life being drained away.
Is it worth trying to change the world when everyone else wants you to change the channel?
How many times must we say, “This is important to me,” before we will remember?
Can we love each other and still disagree over Star Wars?
If I share enough links with my friends, that makes me a good person, right?
Are there enough memes in the world to help us remember the things that shape our hearts and move us to tears?
How much racism and sexism do I need to condemn / support to make sure I side with the cultural elite?
How many Wikipedia pages must we edit before we will leave a positive mark on this world?
Feels about right.
No nudes is good nudes.
My pun may be crude,
but its beard is approved.
Rooting for the prudes.
I am no longer moved
by your fig leaf remove.
Hooray. I engineered the audio for this performance. Pretty good, if you ask me.
This is bullshit.
I’m at that point in life where I understand less than half of all popular culture.
That number will decrease exponentially every year.
Some people believe in astrology
Others believe in technology
Some people believe in all those “ologies”
But I believe in swordfish
Misery and sadness are signs that you recognize the world could be better, and yet, it is not.
I am sad.
Why do they make babies so small? Seems like they could get hurt easier. Very poor design.
In solidarity with Joss Whedon, I will delete my Geocities Web Page.
Nothing more than… mood swings
Helping me pass the daaaaaaay
In crazy moods.
Ooooooo, it makes me wander…
America’s strength lies in its small towns working furiously to produce small batch, artis-anal meth.
You are the most beautiful thing anyone has ever known, and not enough people tell you.
I want to leave this place
and listen to you talk –
for hours –
until both of us feel
that the silence says it all.
If I slice open
so you can see what I’m hiding from The World
would you look?
Rain and Tears
While lost adventure
Is calling, calling.
How do I explain
that my sadness for humanity
comes out in the rain?
Dude, 5/5, man.
Over too quickly, starts too soon.
A birthday portrait drawing of me by my 12 year old niece, Lilith. She did this in a few minutes.
Preparing some outgoing mail for the contributors to the Shindig Shakedown. If you’ve sent me an address, the you are in this pile here. Are there any other artist copies I need to mail out?
I want to know you are okay. That you are happy, you are well, and that you are on the path you want to be following.
It’s important to me.
Just had a terrifying meeting that explained certain things about how your tax dollars work.
I cannot tell you how angry I am. Absolutely horrifying.
I could use some goofy links, funny songs, or some other nonsense to keep my mind off of grimmer thoughts. What have you got, friends and well-wishers?
How did you find the job you currently have? How were you hired? If you work for yourself, how did that begin? If you are not employed, how do you maintain that?