26 October 2016

I frequently see men leave comments in a woman’s Instagram picture saying “flawless.” Don’t fuckin do that, dude. There is some weird and creepy psychology going there. I can’t speak from experience (usually I am told I am a deeply flawed person (lol)), but I’m pretty god dang sure no one wants to be called that.


26 October 2016

yo what’s up with people who can afford to travel

or have furniture in their house

what’s going on with that

25 October 2016

Don’t, uh . . . don’t get me wrong: I’m all for the First Amendment. But for God’s sake can we please get a law forbidding the production of movies and TV shows about quirky white protagonists who [live in New York City and] have a difficult time navigating modern adulthood???

24 October 2016


Natalie sent me this the other day! This is from May when we drove down to Oakland for Pipefest. Here I am, delirious and sleep-deprived and insane, holding a beer and tossing acorns at my friends from a dark oblivion in the sky.

24 October 2016

Look—I don’t care, I’m just going to say it: Half of the women you see in Portland are walking down the street holding hands with a guy who straight up looks and dresses like your classic blonde-mustached pedophile they show in those ’80s “don’t get in a car with strangers” videos.

I’m sorry! It’s true.

24 October 2016

I got a black eye maybe two years ago. I was boxing with someone in my backyard in Oakland and I got punched in the face.

The capillaries beneath my right eye have never fully healed (or whatever they do). And so I have this slightly darker, droopier, Edgar Allan Poe-looking lower eyelid. Uh, it’s kind of cool! I guess I will probably have it for the rest of my life.

The end!!

24 October 2016

A friend of mine from a long time ago sent me an email the other day. She lives in Ireland now. I had not heard from her in over two years.

She said very nice things to me. I don’t know that anyone has said things like that to me before. I felt my chest compress a little when I read it. Gosh!

Do you read this?

I hope you write me again soon, dude. For God’s sake, I miss you a lot! ☆彡

24 October 2016

It has been cold and because I do not yet have a down comforter (I gave my old one to Laura), I have been sleeping inside my military sleeping bag on top of my mattress. Oh, God! It’s so nice. If you wear a sleep mask and earplugs and put on space noises and take melatonin and magnesium and sleep in a cool dark room then it is dangerous to also be inside a sleeping bag. You will never want to leave. You will end up sleeping for nine glorious hours—sleep when you should be awake and writing terrifyingly stupid short stories!

Here’s the thing: The problem is not so much the comfort of being inside of it as it is the discomfort of leaving it. Often I’ll wake up and just hang out inside that thing for an hour or so. I’ll read or email people or just flat out stare at the ceiling in a calm and sedated trance.

I have ordered a yutanpo from Japan, which is a sort of thick plastic water bottle you fill with boiling hot water and put beneath your comforter at the foot of your bed. It stays hot for about twelve hours, and radiates heat and keeps you warm all night, and so on. I actually have a wool yutanpo cover that I bought in Tokyo six or seven years ago. You see I used to have a yutanpo, but I gave it to my old girlfriend. I had two covers and I gave her the better one. Yeah.

Uh, anyway: I am in the process of selling most of my things, and so with some of that money I’m going to buy a nice down comforter and put my wool-covered yutanpo at the foot of my bed and feel real good.

The sleeping bag rules, but the cocoon-like feeling of it is too nice. And also, I am famous (lol) for sharing my bed with my friends when they stay over, and lord knows there’s no way two people are going to fit into that thing.

Oh, baby! I think I just got real excited imagining all the weird sleep I’m going to have once I get all this together.

An important thing I must mention: My bed will be warm, but my bedroom will be absolutely ice-cold.

Of course I’m going to quote ‘Moby-Dick’ now:

We felt very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors; indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the room. The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more. But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.

This is The Deliciousness, which I have written about many times before, and have enthusiastically explained to people who no doubt wished I would stop talking. You cannot appreciate how good your body feels unless a fragment of its opposite is there to remind you of it. That’s why drinking a cold beverage in a hot bath is real nice, and why peanut butter goes with jelly, and on and on. I mean, hell, man. It’s the god darn yin-yang when you really get down to it.

Hey!! Come spend the night. I’m getting new pillows too. You’re gonna love all this stuff. I’ll be Ishmael and you can be Queequeg. OK??

24 October 2016

A long time ago I dated a girl who had a sort of bruise or rash on the back of her thigh. She had gotten it looked at but I guess it was nonspecific and benign, and so her doctor let it be.

Once, when I was out of town, she stayed over at my house for a long time— something like two weeks. The rash disappeared!

When she went home again, it reappeared!!

This kept happening. She would stay at my place for three or four days, and it would go away, but as soon as she returned home it developed again. The rash was always in the same general area and in the same shape. She bought new sheets, a new computer chair, and on and on, but it kept coming back. This happened until she eventually moved, and then it went away forever.

Man, that was like ten years ago and I still think about how weird that is. Why was this happening?!