The couch I sleep on is a relic from some shagged out 70's basement, low-riding, backwards sloping, and embossed with a pea-green paisley that's a subtle but effective skin-irritant. It's a couch you wouldn't want to lie upon barechested or even legged. I drape a sheet over it before I curl up, of course, but by morning my face bears a blotchy ( Read more... )

Last night Dylan kicked me in the face as I was swimming underwater with my eyes closed. Now I can only move my head ten degrees in any direction. I've taken six "pain-relievers" today, in quotes not because they were actually shots of hard liquor or mind-altering drugs, but because they don't work and the name is a complete misnomer. It's hot here ( Read more... )

Hello Casey ( Read more... )

I want to make a stop-motion super-eight film about my books rearranging themselves on my shelf, getting agitated, and taking over.

The last few days, things have been falling over by themselves. I think I have a poltergeist.

I gave in to Dawn's requests and went to work at eight this morning to cover for my Mexican, metal-head friend, Giraldo. I'm usually off on Fridays, but it got me out of bed and the few hours I spent there will add an extra forty bucks to my paycheck next week. I'm amazed sometimes at how little I actually work at work. Today I discovered that if ( Read more... )

A few weeks ago, a guy on the floor, who was moving out, gave me his old dvd player, bringing me a few cautious steps into the 21st century. And I'm spending way too much money on new movies. If you're up for something eerie, try "Carnival of Souls," a veritable cult classic with one of the most unnerving ghouls, I think, in all of cinema ( Read more... )

It's your typical northwest day, the last scraps of sunlight just tossed over the shoulder of the cascades and a steady drizzle humming in the leaves. I've got to find a new job. It's not that the current one isn't paying the bills, but it's suffocating. It's like waking up every morning, getting dressed, eating breakfast, and walking into the ( Read more... )

A few months ago, while watching Dawn of the Dead with my friend Steve, it struck me that the protagonist (played by Scott Reiniger) looked strikingly similar to Alan Sparhawk, the singer/guitarist for Low. Fast forward up to yesterday. In preparation for the Low show, we find a picture of stern Mr. Reiniger toting an M-16 over one shoulder and ( Read more... )

Neoguard, that wooden hand of yours might become kindling for the fires of hell. Your brother has eyes for you favorable status, and God in a fishbowl to sell ( Read more... )

The problem wasn't that I started a five page paper at 11:30 last night. The problem was that I hadn't done any research, and there's only so much you can say about the relationship between instinct and archetype without using outside sources. But I got ahold of a few books, whipped through the thing, and so I'm here in the computer lab wasting ( Read more... )