Undateable: A Look at Noah Baumbach's New Film Frances Ha →
New film review written by yours truly…
"You can get dressed now, honey."
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Hello, my lovelies. Exciting news on the home-front. I’ve recently been made Associate Editor of Fat City Review, a snazzy new art & lit magazine out of Boulder. We’re currently holding open submissions, so send us your poetry, short stories, artwork, photography, and whatever other cool stuff you want to share with the world…
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How gay sex works.
I want a relationship like this
the best part is this is one of those rare gifs you can hear
(Source: jaidefinichon, via turbocunt)
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How’s this for the beginning of a prologue?
It was an age of stupidity. Stupid music and stupid people. Pseudo decadence, the smirking ghost of River Phoenix, and superheroes with rubber genitals…
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On Writing
It’s like dancing. Like fighting, or making love, or having your heart broken. It’s not those things, but it’s a lot like them…
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This Vintage-Looking Vending Machine Dispenses Rare Books For Just $2
A Toronto bookstore has come up with a creative way to add value to old, discount books that otherwise may clutter its storage: an antique-seeming “book dispenser” that randomly spits out old books for $2 a pop.
The Biblio-Mat combines the charm of a gumball machine with the surprise element of a raffle. The machine jumps to life once money’s inserted. With a bit of overt drama—cranking and whirring and ringing that invoke old machinery—the dispenser then releases a used title from its stock, dropping it into a slot for a happy reader to walk away with.
(via Fast Company + infoneer-pulse)
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The Daycare & The Old Folks Home
An Excerpt from The Reckoning of the Ages
The old man cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You should be out doing drugs, bedding a young lady, et cetera. How old are you? Twenty-one?”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Well… whatever. The point is if you were me and I were you, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You want me to go?”
“No. I just don’t see the point of you being here. No one’s asking you to be here. Why are you here?”
It was a good question. I probably should have been out doing drugs or bedding a young lady, but I didn’t have any young ladies to bed or drugs to do, not at that particular moment anyway, thus I stayed. I looked out the window and saw children playing in a small gated yard in front of a daycare. Institutionally speaking, the daycare was the polar opposite of the convalescent home less than a hundred feet away. Their close proximity seemed appropriate. All the “fun” the children were having seemed forced, and in that regard, they weren’t all that different from the old people playing bridge in the convalescent home’s recreation room. Like the old people, gearing up for death with whatever dignity they could conjure, these kids who were playing at playing were little more than pikers. Unlike their aged counterparts, they were just better at hiding it. I would have gone out there and shoved lit cigarettes into each of their mouths, but I didn’t smoke…
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Curse of the Santa Anas
I wrote this a while back, but it was before I had a tumblr…
He hates the Santa Anas because they fill him with hate—plague him with the evil itch of bitter ions blown from the caverns of hell’s chaffed lips. The cycle of such infernal winds has become California’s equivalent of a period, a menstrual manifestation of a summer that will never die, perpetually making what should be the beautiful autumn into an abortion. This is the forsaken fetus that has become the gust that makes our heads so hot and our hearts so cold, and may the gods damn it into oblivion for the misery it has unleashed upon us.
Would that all the demons and devils of Santa Ana hence forth hold their wretched breath so that they may suffocate themselves for all eternity, and let the people see their dying in the color of the leaves once more. Let them listen to the quiet of the dying made by the piling of the fallen leaves. For such death may deliver the people from hell’s foul kiss blown and return their kidnapped smells of autumn—the smells of trees undressing and lost youth and the comfort that once came with the changing of the seasons.
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Passport Application vs. Marijuana License Application
Steps to getting a U.S. passport:
1. Fill Out Form DS-11: Application For A U.S. Passport
2. Submit Completed Form DS-11 In Person
3. Submit Evidence of U.S. Citizenship
4. Present Identification including original birth certificate
5. Submit a Photocopy of the Identification Document(s) Presented (Step 4)
6. Pay the Applicable Fee
7. Provide One Passport Photo
Steps to getting a Marijuana License in the state of California:
1. Show up and say, “My foot hurts.”
2. Pay the Applicable Fee
Theme: Linear by Peter Vidani
