I’m not saying I would never trust someone with a tattoo of an ampersand or a bass clef . . . or a neck / face tattoo, but hell, I reckon they would have to work twice as hard
One of the best ways to judge someone’s character is to watch how they interact with servers and baristas I think
And animals and, I guess, children
I just walked into my bedroom and found my cat lying on my bed fully awake listening to Lee Moses’ cover of “Hey Joe.”
In other news: Earlier I did a bunch of pull-ups and then took my laundry out of the dryer (all black (lol)) and folded it while watching a Charlie Rose interview with Larry David. At some point I stopped and thought, “Whoa! This is nice.”
Lord, I’ve done everything I need to do today I think. . . . I’m going to work on a thing I’ve been writing, and when I get tired of that I’m going to crack open a bottle of awful wine and drink the damn thing until it’s time to walk four blocks south to the weird little bar in my neighborhood where nice and cool people will be waiting for me.
If my net worth amounted to anything more than a ball of lint and a Lego brick and a couple of peanut shells I would fly to Tennessee with my cat and spend the whole summer reading novels at my dad’s house
I ain’t sure if y’all’s ready for this’n right here, but I’m publishing it tomorrow. Oh baby!
For real: I’m really creeped out by how safe and sterile the god dang internet is now. It used to be this weird wild west situation, and nothing was connected, and there was hardly any advertising, and search engines were pretty bad—and when you did find something, it felt special as hell. Usually it was some piece of crap website written by someone who really liked something, and if you liked that thing too, it was exciting to read all this stuff someone had taken the time to compile / create. God! That was great.
Now the mulch and the wood chips have been removed from the great big playground of the internet, and have been replaced with that safe bouncy rubbery flooring that just ain’t the same.
I have no goals with anything I ever publish online. If I feel like writing something I do, and if I feel like putting it somewhere public I do that too. But uhhhh I guess in the back of my mind, I always think, “I’m not going to censor anything. I’m going to publish it as-is. I don’t care what it means to do that.”
So if you’re reading this space debris I write every day of my life: be aware of this fact, if you feel like it! Or don’t! I don’t care!
Just, for god’s sake, please know I ain’t bullshitting you!
Remember at the end of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure when Abraham Lincoln says “Be excellent to each other!!”
That right there is the head, the tail, the whole damn thing.
I feel like I’m surrounded by people who, if asked to smile, would just show you their teeth
I was in the Tenderloin in San Francisco at 6 a.m. today delivering donuts. After dropping the box off I sat down in the van and was about to turn the ignition and drive off. But then a guy rushed out of the coffee shop I had just come from and motioned for me to roll down my window.
I did. He leaned his head into the window. He was perfectly normal-looking.
He said: “Fuck you for making me wear your mother’s panties, and if you ever tell your father I’ll fucking kill you.”
Halfway through “fuck you” I knew it was time to get the hell out of there so I was already starting the engine and putting the car in drive. After he finished his sentence I said, “OK cool thanks” and slammed on the accelerator. I got through the light just as it switched from yellow to red.
For a lot of people, it’s enough to look reasonably attractive and just read from the teleprompter.