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"you're not like any twenty two-year old i've ever met," mused my friend pat just after they'd sung to me.

i stared into my hefeweizen about as deeply as one can, and cocked my head ever so slightly.

"i'm not like anyone i've ever met, really."

Riot Squrrrl: remember how everyone said the strokes were the new jonathan fire*eater ( Read more... )

the state of the union is that the walkmen are the best guitar band in america today.

the state of my union is that i've resolved to join the european one. revenge wears no wristwatch, apparently.

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i twisted up and away from the musty couch, waspstung, the agony & the ecstacy of saint teresa combined. my friends raised eyebrows, glancing at one another, then the bloated saturn sedan onscreen ( Read more... )

( the flava: back in action. )

having just returned from a few rounds of mint juleps with trent lott, i had a lively conversation with my faithful gardener fernando about his lady, and the ever-pertinent topic of race in our glorious nation ( Read more... )

i had a brush with death this morning ( Read more... )

at a loft i curled fetal on a carpet remnant, the host's guinea pig nestled against my thigh; a half-smile approaching rose of sharon's. somewhere they were seeing who could keep their straw to the glass longest; i'd already had enough sugar from the rice krispie treats, thank you very much ( Read more... )