March 2012
0 posts
2 tags
If you were outside in Austin an hour ago and you...
that includes you, cute guy who laughed because I almost jogged into the pond.
February 2012
20 posts
between the curling flower spaces.
The summer before my senior year, I read The Sound and the Fury. I read it one lazy August, for reasons mostly nerdy. I’m sure I consumed large chunks of it at Hyperion, or on that tan plaid couch in 1427’s living room, or even on a bench on campus walk. Somewhere idyllic, to be certain, as Fredericksburg hummed its mellow summer hum, and most of my fellow students had bloomed slightly...
Interviewer: So you are not really aware of an audience, as you write, that you have to entertain in some way?
Garrison Keillor: There is an audience that listens to Prairie Home Companion, and I feel obligated to do something for them, just as you would be obligated to clean your house and make food if you had friends coming over at seven o’clock. They don’t demand that you be clever or profound, only to be in good humor, or lacking that, to be brief.
3 tags
this post is vaguely about improv.
Improv is a fickle lover. When things are going well, when you bond with your partner and you get to watch a scene come to life before your very eyes there’s almost nothing that can come close to it. I’ve reached that point at least twice, and its purest moments are always near the tail end of the level I was in.
Enter Level 3, or really the beginning of any of the levels, and the...
Things that ran through my mind before I clicked...
This is so expensive.
What am I thinking?
Why can’t I ever seem to save a single dollar of my paycheck?
I should be paid more.
It’s absurd how little money I make.
Who let me major in English in the first place?
Whoever it was that said “major in something you love” was clearly shouting that down from atop his mountain of a trust fund.
I have no idea who actually...
The New Yorker: Poem to Daniel Pearl →
newyorker:
Note: A couple of weeks ago, I spent some time in Los Angeles with the parents of Daniel Pearl, a brilliant and courageous reporter for the Wall Street Journal who, ten years ago this month, was kidnapped and slaughtered by terrorists in Pakistan. At the time of his death, Danny’s wife, Mariane,…
1 tag
Someone sat down one day and WROTE this.
“This is where the story starts, in this threadbare room. The walls are exploding. The windows have turned into telescopes. Moon and stars are magnified in this room. The sun hangs over the mantelpiece. I stretch out my hand and touch the corners of the world. The world is bundled up in this room. Beyond the door, where the river is, where the roads are, we shall be. We can take the world...
2 tags
1 tag
Comedic Autobiography; or, What's Funny to Me.
Thinking back to my kid-hood is a little daunting. I was helplessly devoted to Free Willy, gender neutral footwear and being noticed. I can blame one of those on being the youngest child of three and and nearly the youngest cousin of about 50. The other two just make me more interesting or something. A few other slightly less damning things have stayed with me, and are as much a part of me as my...
January 2012
7 posts
1 tag
Worth recording for my future analyst.
Last night I dreamt that moments after falling asleep asleep I was woken up and taken to my high school where I had to supervise a newspaper deadline for hours and hours from behind glass, taking a break only to play in a soccer tournament in the field at my elementary school. The whole time, I was naggingly worried about getting home so that I could get some sleep before work the next day. When I...
December 2011
10 posts
Most Likely to Flee.
I think I’m going to move back. Well, ish.
The city I’m considering bloomed in my mind over the last few weeks, and more and more it’s seeming like the right next step, for personal and professional and a million other reasons. I’m not ready to go back to DC. I don’t know if I ever will be, but I just know I’m not ready yet. That’s my own fault....
Rob Delaney: My least favorite people (at this... →
robdelaney:
My least favorite people (at this second) are people who feel Obama “let them down” or “didn’t deliver on his promise.” Guys, “HOPE” was a one syllable slogan, a logo even, to get a corporate backed, big D Democrat elected in a cash contest. People like you are THE SAME THING as the “undecided”…
This guy is a total asshole who just happens to be right CONSTANTLY.
Live in Austin, but leave before you get too soft.
It’s been a couple of years since I last tried to pretend New York didn’t leave me scared and heartbreakingly sad. I think I’d like to give it another shot again soon.
1 tag
nprfreshair:
Audio for Terry’s interview with...
Unicorn Lovin' Dork: Even the cover sheds a tear. →
fgregorystewart:
Dave Eggers’ preface to this collection of early, previously unpublished short stories from Kurt Vonnegut raises some pointed and insightful questions about the state of contemporary fiction, so don’t skip it, but relish in the stories, the beautiful, beautiful stories.
Something that’s better than one of my favorite authors is two of my favorite authors.
3 tags
Unexpected Word Vomit Attack
Firstly, pretend these posts are dated in slightly less manic-depressive intervals. But I’m cold and cooped up and I can’t bear to watch the last few episodes of Wings on Netflix because then it will be over and I’ll probably have to live another 16 years or so until I rediscover them again. Just trying to give you a feel for things here.
But I’ve been thinking a little...
2 tags
Writer
I just added my signature to my work email. Not like I haven’t been thinking about it since I got started, but I couldn’t find the button until today. Pause for effect.
I stared at it for a few minutes, then sent my brother and my sister a blank email, because I knew it would make them smile and I like to outsource my tiny joys.
Under a blanket now on the couch wearing two sweaters...
November 2011
5 posts
relevant.
starbucksspelling:
Lou
“Sometimes the love of love makes us completely delusional. We hear what we want,...”
– CARRIE BRADSHAW, SACRIFICES, AND ONE SIDED RELATIONSHIPS-CANDICE SESI FOR HELLOGIGGLES
(via sophierobson)
c’s brutal realness knows no limits. hateful.
Abandoned Chinese theme park →
“…anachronistic landmarks, anchored by an unfinished fairytale castle whose inchoate construction dissolves into the smog.”
jeepers.
1 tag
While I'm at it.
I’m forever searching for the right crowd to ask if Cold War Kids got their name from the lyric in Billy Joel’s “Leningrad.” Has to be, right?
1 tag
Bits.
Sometimes I feel the weight of all I haven’t written starting to stack up on me. Each time I reach for a pen or consider a blank word document, my fingers twitch and my head fills up with the minutiae of every detail I could possibly recall over the last eight weeks or so. I’m paralyzed suddenly, and I move onto another activity, a lesser one. A good old-fashioned braindump is what I...
October 2011
4 posts
Mitt Romney's first name is Willard.
newsweek:
mentalflossr:
When he ran for Governor of Massachusetts in 2002, one of his campaign slogans was “Mitt Happens.”
TIL!
America needs to know.
2 tags
In case you were wondering.
This is how to make me heart-flutteringly happy in a sitcom episode amount of time.
Drop Biscuits
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup chilled butter, cut into small pieces
1 cup fat-free milk
Cooking spray
Preparation
Preheat oven to 450º.
Lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Combine flour, baking powder,...
1 tag
if you have to be sure don't write: "What Happens"... →
ifyouhavetobesure:
1 What happens never happens on its own. The future and the past collide. I’ve know a radio to go on playing the song that it was playing just before my father’s Pontiac began to slide— the past so stubbornly persistent even Jimi Hendrix would not stop wailing just because my face was broken
Nixon
Last night was just fun. I could feel my heart pounding in all ten of my fingers when I first jumped up onstage, and the blinding lights inspired this weird disconnect or synesthesia or something that made me completely forget about everything in the entire world but what was happening on that small wooden rectangle.
There’s so many tangents I could go on here, and maybe I’ll follow a...
September 2011
10 posts
3 tags
Heyo! →
1 tag
What you're not writing about
Of course you have things to write about. You have more things to write about than you can possibly count, so quit avoiding the subject.
You’re just not sure how to process all these things you could and should be writing about, and you hide behind that, think that because the words won’t form immediately, that the situation must not merit them. You can talk your self in circles. You...
How strange it is to miss a place you've never... →