The details of my life are quite inconsequential.

Very well, where should I begin?
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. A sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.
My childhood was typical.
Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. If I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds.
Pretty standard, really.


through the looking glass

The more blogs I read, the more I want to read. Other than those closest to my heart in real life, there have never been too many people i've related to. I want to thank anyone I've ever commented to on their blog for making me feel less alone in my random neurotic ramblings. Anti (John?) , the detox (Angelina?) , tanky, paxgitmo, true, little spanish eddie (James?) , and those are just from today. I'll html it later, but more importantly, now, here's to you.

it isn't always bad

The setting sun reminds me of how much it needs the grass to validate itself. I notice the reds above the rest as the sunlight dips behind the clouds and also the horizon. I had to keep looking so of course I found green, but the blues soften in dusk, as blues tend to. The water reflects silver from the sky and clouds that play against the window I look through, quite literally. I changed into myself on the way home like I used to on the Bx 8 when I didn't want roll a blunt in my uniform after school. I fit in and stand out. Notice me but not really. Sense my mystery but not my nature. I've always enjoyed the train ride home.


Six Things I Like

Because it would do everyone good to like these things as well.

lopsided head stick figure drawings

Shel Siverstein

Yeungling Beer

Aqua Teen Hunger Force


Monty Python