a novel and a short story collection, this year, from lazy fascist press.
the album "quicksand and cradlesnakes" by califone, is a good album.
wladimir klitschko and david haye, this saturday, for a large portion of the heavyweight championship.
different kinds of sad: "too sad to talk in sentences" "too sad to look up from the floor" "too sad to want sex" "sad where it feels dumb to eat"
this summer sucks.
i re-read "during my nervous breakdown i want a biographer present" and "you are a little bit happier than i am" both good
i really wish i could live off of cutting people's lawns. i'd like to do that all year.
i really wish i was married to a person i loved, and had five to eight kids, and lived nowhere near a city, on a five hundred acre field of grass that i mow for ten hours a day, every day.
actually i dont know.
"it's going to change," i keep thinking, but then find myself the same person as always.
an idea for a talk show where i sit by my window, from three floors up, and say, "hey" to people who pass by on the street below, and then i interview them for as long as they stay.