Broke all yalls necks.
March 9th
March 2nd
3:23PM //
Nothings more awkward than how people in the subway really expect you not to sit next to them.
March 1st
February 28th
12:03AM // 8-YEAR-OLD DICKS
So when I was little, before my family moved out of our first house, I lived next to a total creep. The kid had some mental illness that was hinted to me by my parents and neighbors, but only described as “he’s hyper.”
This hyper-ness in retrospect, may at times bordered on junior psychosis, such as when he punched a girl in the face for calling him weird, or when he asked me to piss in cups with him and sell it as Mountain Dew on the corner, but most times it just manifested itself as junior sexual deviancy.
I really wasn’t allowed in his house, but at about 8 years old (he was 14 at the time) sneaking into his house to play video games and read comic books was my definition of badass. One day, we’re messing around in his room being weird kids while chewing on that gum or candy, or whatever, that came in a giant tin and whose only redeeming quality was that it made your tongue pitch black. And really on this day, two images prevail, both of which to this day cause extreme discomfort when I think of them.
Image 1 is the mouth on the box of the candy(1). I don’t know why, but this image stays with me as being awful. Now to explain image 2.
So we’re eating this candy, getting all revved up on sugar, and he pulls out a tape player. It has the most lewd lyrics of any song I’ve ever heard, but he insists I hear it. My memory believes there was a line about shoving a nail through someones dick. Anyway, while I’m jamming to this horseshit, warping my 8 year old mind, this is where things get weird: He just pulls out his dick. Then he tells me we should dance with our dicks out. I reply to this request being that I’m fucking 8 and revved up on candy and honestly, I don’t know why else, other than you’re pretty stupid when you’re 8.
He leans over my pre-pubresent dick and just spits on it. This is the 2nd Image that I will never forget. For whatever reason, I just let all of it happen and never, until now, tried to remember the whole thing in detail. But have always had the image of my baby dick with a giant spit glob sitting on the end of it stuck in my head.
Soon after, I hurried home and lied in bed, worried for, like oh, 4 years after that, that I was going to hell for this transgression and that I was a bad catholic and somehow my parents would know that I let someone spit on my dick.
(1)
February 25th
10:50PM //
Do you think people who put secret or extended tracks on albums in the 90s realize they ruined the final song on said albums for us in the 2010’s?
February 24th
8:38PM // BLUE RASPBERRY
I went to catholic elementary school. Now I’m not sure if non-catholic schools did this, but I felt that it is worth mentioning just in case it is anomalous. Anyway, around Christmas time, we used to have to walk around the neighborhood and give Christmas cards to the old and the invalid living in the neighborhood.
One time, while doing this, I knocked on a door, and recognized a kid who had been picking on me. He was drinking a blue huggie(1), without a shirt on. I had never seen someone so skinny. He shrugged when I told him why I was there and said something that sounded like a thank you. He closed the door. I felt empty. Not because I had witnessed the potential reason why he was picking on me, but because I didn’t get to see the sickness looming in the darkness behind him.
(1) 
3:20PM // TUMBTHUMPING
So, I don’t know, I guess blogging is cool. However, it seems like a niche is needed, you need to funnel your favorite interest into your blogging interest and create your own personal hyper interest. Call it something like your tumblr major. Yet, I don’t really like anything all of that much to continuously talk about it. My critical thinking faculties aren’t cultivated enough to care about the Euro Zone, or to dissect the metamorphosis of underground hip hop, or (and even though I have photoshop) to make an info graph describing the best SNL characters of the ‘Aughts.
(Am I doing this right?)
Instead, I guess I am a pathetic sort of everyman. I don’t champion causes, nor am I pedantic enough to want to rip apart logical fallacies that I see on a free blogging site. So what is there to even talk about? What is there to say here in this endless public forum? Why post here, especially if you cannot be defined by your interests? Simply because you do not have any salient interest. Interest definition, which is something that social media has increasingly pushed into our consciousness, to me, and again I’m no authority, seems extremely contrived. Sure, there are social injustices. Sure, I’m glad that an info graphic or a reblogged quote opened my sheltered eyes to its existence; but I mean, if you aren’t out there actually doing the grassroots work for these causes, you’re just an interest mill. A didactic interest mill that is extremely condescending about the lack of public awareness of said really important interest.
I don’t know, I don’t mean to be preachy, as I said, critical thinking isn’t really my strong suit, and this is just sort of flowing extemporaneously.
I do know something I care about though. Being human. Being able to perceive and emote and make value judgments. Some of which, are horribly, horribly wrong, especially considering how sheltered my brain currently is. But I’m here because I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to be sheltered, or classist, or horribly, horribly wrong. So whatever comes out after this, I guess, is peachy.
11:35AM //
Are there any nice guy journalists left?
