November 18, 2015

Salted Caramel Macaroons. To Go Containers.

Inside a sweeping cursive.  That is where I am. That is where I will go, boozy and numb.  The dark and expansive red, trying to make itself mean something.  I ride its loop.  I am a fucking surfer.  My hang ten. My cutback. My big dick scraping that board, chafing. Poor dick tip all red and sore.  Put your tongue to it. Little lappings. “Poor baby. Make it all better.” Use those words.  Mean them. Lap some more.

I cup my hand around you.  A baby bird.  I graze your cheeks with my thumb.  “Why do you love me, baby bird? Why do you love me—a carcass?”

It’s in a blanket fort, except circus tent sized, except smaller, except more cave-like, except not dank, except soft, except light filtering through, except hidden, except lukewarm but trying to reach 75 degrees, except more quite except for small talk except for breathing, except for the sound hands on skin make, except in the forest, except no animals, except no wind, except its own growing entity, except nervous but not confident, except in a way it wants to, except out of time and space, except above all cars, goats and buildings, except not what you are thinking and closer to what you are not thinking.  Inside, it’s a building (v).

When they know everything and they do a presentation with Power Point with dry erase board with Excel spreadsheets, with pie charts. Big sentences, % signs, * and laser pointers.  Your eyes locked open Clockwork Orange style.  They are wearing a Gucci pantsuit.  They have a Masters degree. A PHD.  You are in sweatpants, eating a booger, slapping the right side of your face with your right hand thinking, “It all makes sense. How come I can’t ever change out of these sweatpants? Stop eating boogers? Stop hurting my face?” 

The class goes on and on and on and I stay there, trying to shed my skin.

Beyond it, a meadow.

October 24, 2015

MOVIE REVIEW: Crimson Peak

Crimson Peak is a movie I wanted to watch last night and so I did.  It started at 5:25 so I had to sneak out of work ten minutes early so I could speed to the theater and get there in enough time to park and then get to my seat. 

I barely made it.

I really should’ve anticipated LA traffic on a Friday and left 15 minutes early instead of just 10 minutes early.  I almost got into four car accidents rushing to be on time to see this movie.  It was pretty scary.  But I made it there safely!


Crimson Peak is a movie about a giant English mansion that is set on a high peak.  The peak is crimson.  Hence, Crimson Peak.  Clever!

The peak is only crimson when it snows.  Turns out the peak is made of solid blood and when the blood gets cold it turns red and starts seeping out into the snow so the snow looks all bloody.  It is ‘snow-activated blood earth’, basically.  You don’t find this out until halfway through the movie so I’m saving you time right now.

The mansion’s name in this movie is Adderall, which I thought was a weird choice.  We follow Adderall’s journey from England to America and back again.  In America the mansion gets married to a white woman who wants to be a writer.  The mansion promises her many rooms to write in back in England at the top of Crimson Peak so she goes because the mansion also promises her a typewriter in every room and no writer can resist THAT!

When Adderall and the white girl return to England and Crimson Peak, that’s when we find out it has a grumpy sister mansion named Goldthwait.  The sister mansion keeps coming by to visit and to make tea for everyone which seems to annoy Adderall who just wants to be alone with his new white wife.  And it annoys the new white wife because she wants to write in all the rooms of the mansion but she’s being forced to drink tea every minute.  You can tell the sister mansion is jealous for some reason. She also starts playing the piano every minute that she’s not making tea.

The movie is a relationship struggle between the two sibling mansions and the white wife and endless tea making.  The white wife frequently wakes up to find herself lying on top of Crimson Peak, alone. Just like, on the ground.  This is because her husband mansion has unexpectedly gone to visit Goldthwait on her own peak, leaving her alone and without shelter.  It was not what she thought she signed up for. And how is she supposed to write when he’s off visiting his sister? She’s just on the ground!

It hits a level of intolerance for her when winter comes and she wakes up alone in bloody snow because of the cold-activated blood earth and it freaks her out.  She goes running through the blood-snow to Goldwaith’s peak, in search of her husband (because she knows he’s always disappearing to there) and LO AND BEHOLD she finds the two sibling mansions mid-coitus!!!! 

She’s all like, WHAT THE FUCK?!  And runs back to Crimson Peak where she takes a knife and adds her own blood to the snow blood.  Adderall runs back to try to explain (ummm…..) and finds his white wife dead against the red of the snow.  The movie ends in an aerial shot that zooms out as we see Adderall sobbing over the body of his white wife, lying in an endless field of bloodsnow. 

I wanted to be scared when I watched this movie but I was not.  Going into this, I didn’t know that the scariest part about this movie would be my drive to go see this movie.  Plus, the mansions were horrible actors and the white wife barely had any dialogue.  I don’t know what Guillermo del Toro was thinking.  Anyway.  ZERO stars!

October 11, 2015

Movie Review: The Martian


I watched “The Martian” last night.  I watched it at a theater I’ve gone to for 20 decades and for the first time they were checking people’s bags for firearms. MERICUH!  Good job everyone!  Go to church wearing your “Sandy Hook Was Just a Speed Bump” t-shirt and high-five your God cuz ‘that no good Muslim Obama ain’t gonna take your guns away.’  On Monday you can watch the live feed of the next school shooting while eating popcorn and washing it down with holy water.  Winning is great, right?

The Martian is chock full of Matt Damon.  If you are a big MD fan, this movie is for you! If you have any Matt Damon issues, you should probably not go see this movie.  I don’t have a lot of MD issues, so I was fine.  Except the lady sitting in front of me was coated in an old lady perfume casing and the smell wouldn’t dissipate. I had some issues there.

Spoiler Alert. (Saying it again in case you missed it)

The movie starts on Mars.  Mars looks like an endless desert. It looks like Mad Max Fury Road was filmed there. Maybe they used the same set.  Matt Damon sits alone at a white, lighted vanity mirror.  The kind they use in Showgirls.  He’s brushing his long blonde hair which is actually a wig. He looks ‘lost in thought’.  He’s doing that kind of hair brushing where they ‘pet’ their hair after each stroke like the hair is a cherished pet. Probably a small dog.  It’s about ten minutes of this hair brushing.  The camera goes in and out. Every angle.  Close up, far away, side, other side.  There is an overhead shot and one from underneath the chair he’s sitting in.  (sidebar-I watched this in 3D so all of this was pretty cool. It was like Matt Damon was brushing his hair RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!)  Eventually, Matt Damon starts humming a song. Slow at first but then as it gets faster you realize it’s the theme from Happy Days and when they pan in again you see Matt Damon is crying. 

Screen cuts to black and the words, ‘THE MARTIAN’ fill the screen.

Flashback to the crew that left him.  What happened was, they got in a big fight over who was going to bone who.  It had been an ongoing thing.  The Hispanic character dude was sick of being ‘a bottom’ for the female captain’s strap on.  But because she was the captain, what she says goes, so he had to get pegged more than he wanted to. Matt Damon’s character was fine with it though, but I think the captain was more turned on by the guy not liking it so much. Like, she was power trippy, ya know?  Anyway, the other female and male crew members were fed up too. All of them, living on this desert planet for so long, boning the same people.  Digging up rocks. Marking the spot with tiny numbered flags. Putting the rocks into scientific vials.  Writing labels on the vials. Putting them into storage boxes. This was not really what they thought they’d signed up for so they decided to get the fuck out of Mars.

Too bad Matt Damon drew the short straw and had to stay.  See…the plan was that before the crew left, they’d make life-like replicas of themselves so NASA would think they were all still on Mars because their mission wasn’t supposed to be over for another 240 sols (which is how you say ‘days’ on Mars).  So, the short straw person would basically have to be a ‘space puppeteer’ for 240 sols and Matt Damon was that person.

Too bad that Matt Damon wasn’t the smartest and didn’t realize that once the crew left he would have no way to go home. So basically he was stuck on Mars with 6 lifesize/lifelike replicas of his crewmates.

So, the main part of the film was Matt Damon and his replica crewmates going through their day to day living, except Matt Damon had to move them around every minute and talk for them every minute so it was basically a lot of Matt Damon running around behind each replica and talking for people in voices that closely sounded like the original crewmates. 

At first he made them all do their normal routines.  He didn’t want NASA to get suspicious.  They dug rocks. They boned (simulated boning because the replicas didn’t have penises or cunts or tits). They rehydrated meal packs and played Nintendo DS and Tetris and Caterpillar and Defender and Joust and Asteroids and Crazy Climber and Galaga and listened to Huey Lewis mix tapes which was basically just a lot of Huey Lewis songs mixed up. 

Eventually Matt Damon started to go crazy as you can understand.  He grew a beard and decided to grow potatoes on Mars in his own feces.  So, a lot of the last part of the movie was Matt Damon waiting for his shit-potatoes to grow.  He kept brushing his blonde hair in the vanity mirror still.  He applied makeup left behind by his female crewmates and would talk in a ‘feminine voice’ a lot and call himself a pretty pretty princess a lot.

SPOILER ALERT AGAIN. The ending was basically, okay, Matt Damon goes more and more insane. NASA starts not believing the replica captain when she goes on camera because her mouth never moves when she talks and they’re very suspicious and are threatening to send a ‘rover mission’ there to investigate, even though the rover would take four years to get there…they’re still making the threat and Matt Damon is scared now.

Matt Damon ends up believing the threat and one day dresses up in his prettiest prettiest princess outfit, brushes his hair and applies makeup and sets up a little table in front of a huge barrel full of the shit-potatoes he’s successfully harvested.  This is a triumphant moment because most of the movie was his ‘shit-potato growing struggles’. It was like a montage and stuff.  So, I sort of got teary eyed at this point.  You could see both sadness and pride in Matt Damon’s eyes. 

He sits down with a knife and fork, and…while humming the theme from Happy Days….he begins eating the shit-potatoes.  One after the other after the other.  He eats and hums and eats and hums and eats and eats until he dies. They show his stomach sort of explode from under his princess dress and he falls to the floor into a pile of half-digested shit potatoes that exploded from his own body. 

Screen cuts to black then opens on his old crewmates laughing and slapping their knees. They’re watching Matt Damon on a hidden video camera feed and it’s so funny because they never left Mars at all! They just went around a big mountain on Mars and were living around the corner at an old abandoned space station Matt Damon didn’t know anything about. Turns out they all thought he was an idiot and wanted to play a big trick on him.  The end.

So, as you can see, the twist ending really brings it home.  I really enjoyed this movie.  It wasn’t what I was expecting but despite missing my expectations I really enjoyed this refreshing take on a space film.  Matt Damon should win an Oscar. Especially if they create a new category for “Dramatic Hair Brushing.”  Ridley Scott really outdid herself on this one. Talk about ‘stepping outside the box!” 

Five stars.

July 12, 2015

When A Heart Comes To Save You

When a heart comes to save you, splay yourself as if dead.  Relax your body like the edges of a wound.  Look into its eyes.  See what saving looks like.

Look until you are sure you will never forget.

Then look some more.

When the heart lowers its rope, don’t be nervous.  It’s not a noose. The noose is already around your neck, long familiar, like a middle-school tattoo.  This is a saving rope. It’s here to take its place.

Put the rope round you, like the heart asks.  Coil its length around yourself, all the parts worth saving, which—as the heart says—is every bit of you.  Even the ugly.  Even the gross.  Wrap it round you until it’s become your skin.  Until breaths come barely and difficult.

When the heart begins its lift, trust.  You will fight at first, and this is expected.  The heart knows this and holds strong against your squirm.  Even as days pass. Even as months.  The heart lets you beat your head against the stones because it knows this is what you need to do before the saving can come.  The heart knows you will tire.


It knows you will remember what saving looks like.


It knows that when you remember, your body will go limp with trust, become weightless.  Only then will it pull you up.  Raise you from the darkness, into its waiting arms, blood-spent and ridiculous.

Go into those arms. Give the heart its reward.  Take some for yourself.  It was hard for you too.

After you are done, step from the uncoiled rope, turn, and look down.  Note the depths it pulled you from.  Remember that distance as you remember the saving.  

Remember it all.


never forget.

June 27, 2015

Two NEW things you can read:

The Show I Want To Watch (DFW)

The Street of Despicable Behavior  (Fanzine)

that is all

June 11, 2015

Wigleaf Top 50

Really thrilled to see my story, "Today I Am A Summer Field" on the Wigleaf Top 50 and my untitled story from Dogzplot on the Longlist.

"I still got it!"


im stupid.

May 10, 2015

And, We're Back!

I haven’t written here for a while. 

Hi Blog.

Blogs are “passé” now, right?  (looks up “passé” on dictionary dot com. Reads. Feels satisfied)  People have Tumblrs and Instagrams and Snapchats, not blogs.  Well, I’ve had this blog since 2002 when I was young and pretty and troubled and sad and I am still having this blog now that I’m old and not so pretty and troubled and sad. 

This blog is one of my closest friends.

This blog made me a writer.

I love this blog.

Thank you blog.  You may be passé but you’ll always be my bloggiest blog to have ever blogged. 

Today and every day for the last year I’ve had lots of things on my mind.  So many things it’s a wonder I have enough mind for them to all be on.  I imagine my mind a child’s crayoned island. One green half-dome with a lone palm tree and scalloped, pointed blue waves curve-spiking out to either end of the paper.  On top of that island, catacombs of things, piled and clustered, rising up and beyond the lip of the paper, Tower of Babel style, toward the heavens.  That poor island!  Hang in there island! (mind)

Today I won’t talk to you about those many things.  Instead I want to talk to you about birds.

I have a corner office at work.  This isn’t a brag.  I share the office with two other people.  My office has a spectacular view of Los Angeles.  I can see for miles.  It’s a birds-eye view.  When storms have come I can see lightning stretch from sky to treetop.  I can see all the planes and blimps and helicopters. It’s an amazing desk to sit at and I’m so lucky.

Now that we have established that I sit at a desk that looks out of a window at an amazing view, I will further explain that there is a patio outside of my window.  When you sit on the patio, you also have this amazing view.  I can watch people having lunch outside every day.  Chew. Chew. Chew.

There is a metal “overhang” outside of my window and for the past month a pair of Finches have set up a little nest in the little “nook” where some beams meet.  The nest eventually grew eggs which grew into baby Finches.  The parents fly in and out all day long.  In the quiet morning before my office mates arrive I would hear their “peep peep peeps” and it was lovely. 

It was right outside my window.  All day. Three feet from my eyes.

My office mates and I would remark on the nest and the babies and the parents from time to time, especially last week when the babies were now louder and sticking their little heads out from out of the nest.  Cute cute baby birds! Nature!

But, on Wednesday.

Wednesday we were in our office and it was morning and a crow came.

There are a pair of crows that frequent our patio.  They fly down and sit on the railings.  They are huge and scary.  One of them walks on the railing to a place where he can see his reflection in the window and then repeatedly attacks his reflection, bashing himself against the window over and over again. It makes a huge racket and everyone always stops to watch because OMG A CROW IS BASHING HIMSELF REPEATEDLY AGAINST THE WINDOW OF OUR OFFICES!

The crow came.  And, as we often do, we remarked about it.  He is magnificent in his scariness.  He is sort of like Beyonce in that, you HAVE to look at him.  His presence commands it.  He is tremendous.

As we were watching, he flies down below the nest.  He is on the ground right outside my window.  I stand up.

We all stand up.

We all get a dreadful feeling right then.  We say later we didn’t know what was going to happen but we all knew what was going to happen.  We will say later we didn’t know crows eat small birds, but we all knew somewhere, deep down, that they eat small birds.

AS WE WATCH he flies up to the rafters and pecks through the metal into the nest.  He gets one of the baby birds in his beak and takes him down to the patio floor.  The other baby bird falls out of the nest. In fright? Suicide?  I don’t know, but he falls.

We scream.  We are horrified. It happened so fast.

The crow pecks at the little brown-gray ball of fluff as we are horrified.  Then it hops over to the fallen baby bird and picks it up in his beak, hops back to the ‘pecked’ baby bird, picks it up in his beak and flies off with both of them in his glossy, black beak.

It was horrible.

It was funny too because “nature”.  Nature is rough and messed up and not gentle.  Like Honeybadger, Nature don’t give a fuck.  We just witnessed the no fucks right outside our office window.  Three feet away.

But it bothered us all day.  We couldn’t stop talking about it. 

Then the parents came back. 

We Googled “Do birds grieve?”

We Googled “What do crows eat?”

We learned a lot about birds that day.

Do I tell you that the crow came back an hour later and HE SWOOPED IN AND ATE AN ADULT FINCH WHILE I WAS WATCHING?!?!?!  OMG it happened and he did.  Swooped in, got him in his beak and flew off!!  It was insane! 

We screamed some more.

We called it “Birder” (rhymes with “murder”)

We’d never seen such things. Let alone within hours on the same day.

It was upsetting.  But cool as fuck. I’m not gonna lie.  It was nuts.

It bothered us all week.  All week I was nervous for the little Finches.  “It’s not safe here!” I would say to the glass whenever the little guys came around.  But they can’t hear me and they don’t know my language so it was for naught.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this or why I chose this to blog about after all of these weeks. I guess it really bothered me.  If I’m still carrying it and taking this Sunday morning to write it down, it must be still bothering me.  Or, maybe it was the feeling of being privy to something special.  Of nature at its purest or something.  Like that moment in Stand By Me when Gordie LaChance is sitting alone on the railroad tracks in the still of morning and the deer comes out of the brush and they look at each other for a quiet moment and then it runs away and Gordie decides not to tell the other boys because he felt it was just a special moment between him and that deer and telling them would ruin it or something.

I love that scene.  How sometimes tremendous, important, special things happen to us AND YOU WANT TO TELL EVERYONE BECAUSE OMG DID YOU SEE DO YOU KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?!!? But then, you don’t.  And somehow, keeping that amazing thing sacred makes it even more so.  And carrying THAT around is and always will be forever yours.  Unspoiled and secret.  And maybe that is more important that telling. 

I dunno.  But, watch out for crows, man…