The Pixies

Why do we write? Why do we walk down the street, puzzled, about methods of pairing phrases to properly document an attempt at some sort of human experience? Why does throwing some bullshit assortment of letters and punctuation onto a piece of college-ruled paper make make us feel like we’re achieving some sort of inner harmony?…

This Can Not Be a Metaphor About a Car’s Muffler

Oh, and another thing. Since when did anyone have to have irrevocable feelings for someone that makes them feel about the size of a pinhole? The thing about being a pinhole; there’s millions of them. There’s millions of you’s, bumping into them’s, feeling like this. It’s no big deal, but you have to keep it…

1 (800) 273-8255

“I think a lot about killing myself, not like a point on a map, but rather like a glowing exit sign at a show that’s never been quite bad enough to make me want to leave.” Neil Hilborn, a popular slam poet, describes suicide this way. I love this depiction. I’ve never claimed to be…

Or Lack There Of

About 60 miles and a quarter of a tank of gas. About photocopies of Monet tinted yellow by soft negligence. About stained coffee pots. About cigarette smoke mixed with Glade Candles. About pill bottles artfully arranged as a reminder that an asymptomatic life is a quality life. About EMT’s running up the carpeted stairs. About…

12/01

December 1st, 2015 Today I saw the world from the perspective of two cats. I laid on the floor and tried to see what it was like to feel small-real small. Not people small. We’re all small, maybe not in the eyes of some God or a politician, but in eachother’s. We see others as…

a published draft: a vulgar letter to high school seniors

The day that you graduate from high school, you’ll be so thankful that you’re done. Allow your mind to race, was this worth it? How much more is the salutatorian getting than the stoner next to you? You all showed up to a large building four years ago, and here you are, waiting for a fucking…

updates

Hello! I don’t really have anyone that knows this blog exists so I don’t know who i’m saying hello to; it’s better to write as if someone is going to read it, though. I’ve strung together enough words to bore you to sleep; but the past week of my life has been so much more…

psuedo independence

Admiration should not come from a place of stress. Why are we impressed when someone is able to “make do” with a situation that they don’t want to be in. Admiration comes from a place of stress. Never once has it been said, “Your plate is empty, congratulations on your sanity.” No one cares for…

#37 untitled

I’m trying a new method- I’m going to write how I was taught. I’m going to revise and revise until I’ve made art. I’m not going to stop until I’m proud of my work. Writing is revising.

perpetually

I’m sick of writing every day and erasing it. Why do I have to be so full of bull shit.

Heaviside

You know, I’m pissed. I don’t know if i’m mad at myself, this company, or my coworkers. I moved to Denver four months ago, within that four months I have had four jobs. One of them I’ve kept the entire time, two of which I have found myself helplessly agitated with. Here I am again, the…

Cobarde

Donald Trump hasn’t said a whole lot of things I agree with, but one thing he has stated was, “With out passion, you don’t have energy. With out energy, you have nothing.” I’m not doubting that Donald Trump isn’t a smart man, or even that I have capitalistic views when it comes to passion. I’ve never…