been david byrne's butler for six years but he still won't let me wear the big tuxedo at work, says i haven't 'earned the shoulders' yet, fucking noodley prick
back in my postal worker days i had john waters on my route and sometimes he'd catch me at the mailbox and he'd say thank you for always delivering my mail and i'd say it's basically my job you old pervert and we'd laugh and laugh
the neon pink valis beam compels me to place my old phone with this pothos, to let it be subsumed into its vines, as sort of a low-rent nam june paik type of thing
she's saying unbelievable and her friend agrees yeah but it's not enough so she repeats it louder totally unbelievable and the friend graciously keeps up with a yeah i can't believe it which apparently is still not enough cause she's leaning in spitting the words now can you even fucking believe it?
smiling and nodding politely as the fifth person this week casually reveals that the chat bot basically dictates every facet of their practical and emotional life
spotted on the marunouchi line: a man playing vigorous air guitar, apparently snapping an air string, and spending the next few minutes begrudgingly miming the process of threading a new one and tuning it ip
gyomu sells real peanut butter but it comes in a squeeze pack, like space food; so i sit in my broiling flat sucking paste through a tube: a lone astronaut abandoned on a harsh planet; thank you gyomu
when we speak of fumbling the bag we speak of losing what is desirable through clumsiness and ineptitude, of course the bag is a metonym for something larger, so too is the fumble; we are speaking of the maladroit soul at the core of the human
experimenting with seeing signs and omens in the iconography of strangers tote bags
though i would never use the term itself (too tacky, melodramatic) i nonetheless understand my flat to be somewhat lair-like, a space where one retreats or lures others to
biking around in my big beige sack dress, the fabric, i imagine, billowing majestically behind me, giving onlookers—surely there must be many—a vision of ethereal grace which—again conjecture, but we know is well-founded—elevates their, the onlookers, spirit for the rest of the day
i tried phish, i really did; went method, even: moved to burlington, spent months as a 20-something yoga instructor, dated a guy named trev, drank magic hat, read rumi, greenpeace sticker on my nalgene; in the end, 'farmhouse' has some ok tunes
in the heat the crows crouch low in the dirt, they splay their wings and hang open their beaks trying to stay cool, don't even scatter when i come close; they just look up maws open like chicks in a nest and i'm the mama about to feed them, and i'm just sun stroked enough to try
experimenting with doing push-ups while listening to guazuncho 'forraje' (2026) the official chupacabra 'album of the summer'
experimenting with experiencing this heat rash as a moral arc; its arrival a punishment earned through sin and its abatement a blessing won through piety
did the commercials turn me on? that's a pretty intimate question and i respect you for asking it; but looking back i don't think they did
basically the premise was the shampoo could give you orgasms, yeah exactly: wordplay on organic, the term was still novel at the time so people felt clever getting it, an organic experience, we used to see this ten, fifteen times a day, the color grading was garishly oversaturated, too
welcome to my stylish tokyo boutique; check out our summer collection, everything has full sleeves and is made out of fiber glass for some reason
my parent who, upon hearing or using a word like maven, schlock, tchotchke, or putz, would always thoughtfully pause then add 'that's from yiddish, you know,' a tic also extended to dutch and hindi
and he says what kind of animal sticks around 500 million years without some sort of personality to show for it? hell that googlie-eyed crab was probably the most charming crab to ever scuttle the earth not that its a high bar but he scuttled right over it
we get to talking animals and he says he never was allowed a pet save for once they had a horseshoe crab, not a charismatic animal all told, so they took a pair of googlie eyes and fixed em right on that crab's carapace, them things are 500 million years old and you fix googlie eyes on em, jesus
while the rest of the city tries to beat the heat, tokyo's small but tight-knit cajun community celebrates the annual return of 'bayou season'
experimenting with doing push-ups while listening to terry riley and don cherry, 'köln, february 23, 1975' (2013)
dream: on closer inspection, the onigiri is filled with glitter and gold leaf
experimenting with letting the forces move me around like a ouija planchette
she built a whole career composing the jingles played at tokyo's train stations, hundreds altogether, now in her late 80s, she's become surly and cynical, 'bells, chimes, melodies, its all meaningless dinging and donging' she says, taking a drag of a mevius, 'these days i prefer silence'