Horny, Lonely, Pathetic

Me: In Relationships

There is food in my bed a lot. People are all trying to take my money. Nobody wants relationships to last the way I want them to.

This is like that game two truths and a lie, except all of them are true. Instead it’s two bad things and a good thing. I like having food easily accessible.

I love being in a fully formed relationship that feels like you two can finish each other’s sandwiches (I should eat breakfast). I also hate when that lasts more than a day. It gets boring, routine, monotonous – much like a list of synonyms. The interesting part of relationships to me, and really anything to me, is that they are constantly transforming. They must constantly move forward otherwise they die. I can go through a relationship quickly. I need not three months to hit all the main points. I treat a relationship like a pithy writer treats an essay – make sure you get everything in, and put nothing else in.

My point is that I love relationships. I love all parts of relationships, and that’s why I don’t get into any of them. They’re all structured wrong. We should have fully formed marriages and divorces that last a week, or maybe a day. That’d be awesome.

Also a transgend’s girlfriend put a knife to my friend’s throat when we tried to stop her from beating the shit out of homelessman.

That’s another truth. Not sure if it’s a good or bad. They’ve obviously been in a relationship too long.

Gender, Media

Hip Hop’s New Accidental Feminism

In Dane Cook’s first Comedy Central special (something I can quote from memory because I spent ages 12-18 watching 12-18 hours of comedy central) he has a joke about how men and women are different because men go to the clubs to find women to go home with and women go to clubs to just dance. “Let’s just dance! Just put our purses in a circle and dance!”

It’s a pretty boring joke from a boring comedian that seems cliched and shows a lack of understanding of the ability for people to defy their gender norms. It’s pretty age old and annoying to assume that all men are hunters and women are the hunted. We have to strive toward and for, while women need simply to show off their goods by dancing. They don’t want it. We want it and we must take it.

Recently we have some songs that accidentally mark the artists responsible as feminists.

Taio Cruz’s song Dynamite makes absolutely no mention of girls but talks exclusively about how great it is to go dancing with your boys.

“I came to dance-dance-dance-dance,
I hit the floor cause that’s my plans plans plans plans,
I’m wearing all my favorite brands brands brands brands,
Give me some space for both my hands hands hands hands.
Yeah, Yeah.”

He talks of dancing, dancing, wearing cute clothes, and dancing. This sounds like the female in the Dane Cook joke. There’s the Bechdel test – “(1) it has to have at least two women in it, who (2) who talk to each other, about (3) something besides a man” to determine if a movie is feminist (I also hate this test because it tends to imply that this is the only way a movie can be feminist, while talking about sex with a man about men can be feminist). In any case, it begs the question: Is a rap song feminist if it has a man talking about doing something in an environment that has women, but refuses to objectify women, or even bring them up? Well this passes the test.

I say accidental because watch the video. This is boring reminiscent of every late ’90s early ’00s rap video where women’s upper thighs and bare backs are constantly zoomed in on for no reason besides more jerk off fodder.

Also Usher has this lyric as the chorus of his new song: “Dance, Dance, Dance like it’s the last, last, last night of your life.”

On another but related note, Lil Wayne gives a woman agency. Despite the fact that we’ve given women sexual (and only sexual) agency in rap songs for a while, this is different. She not only can get what she wants with her pussy, but refuse what she wants with her pussy.

What does this say? It says we’re winning. The journey is obviously not over, but when people are accidentally doing things that are feminist, that means it is becoming a part of mainstream culture. When sexism isn’t cliche, but rather feminism is, then we’ve succeeded. I think the new passion fruit, sparkling, vodka wine that DJ Kahled is forcing into all of his videos is proof that gender roles are being busted up.

In my research for this article I’ve also discovered that Ne-yo is a drunk superhero who makes enemies with one eyed ninjas in white suits, and that is also pretty cool.

Media, Socialism


I’m getting tired of watching the right wing pundits try to get argued with. It’s difficult. It’s difficult because they say so many stupid things that it becomes hard to focus. Your mind races with so many ways of debunking each of their statements that you end up saying nothing worthwhile. Snoop Dog knows how you argue with them:

You don’t. You play them off as so idiotic that you need not even respond to them. They are motherfuckng pricks. Let’s just start treating them like they told us that they were abducted by aliens. Or like they are children explaining how a goat came barging in the door and stole the last cookies and then placed crumbs gently around their mouths which is why it looks like they ate cookies but they didn’t.

Attention Whoring, comedy, I Don't Know What the Fuck This Is, Selfish

Me: In Others

I can’t believe my roommate is taking this couch. I mean, she bought it, but I sit on it most. Doesn’t that mean something?

The coffee table/bench is also on it’s way out. Another thing that I use most. Another thing I feel like I have the most emotional connection to.

I sit on my couch with my feet up on the bench reading blogs and shit. I’m gonna make fun of other peoples blogs now.

Ok, Lara: Love is sooooooo hard. Companionship is soooooooo fun. Gross. I hate companionship. It’s just a synonym for obligation mixed with someone else’s desires that contradict yours. And I don’t care that you just saw Maggie Gillie. I’m not jealous because at least I’m not immature enough to strive for love. Fuck, it’s not immaturity, it’s that you are a moron who places importance on things that aren’t important. I’m not talking about your misplaced love of weird gyrating sounds that are annoying to listen to, I’m talking about your misplaced love of boys who are willing to talk to you.

Yeah Ben: you fail at rap because you are white. There’s an original stance to take. Oh wait, no, you like the same rap that black people like. Oh, you are more cultured and understanding than other white boys who pretend to like rap because you don’t need to analyze it for its content, message, and intellectuality. But you could. You totally could because you aren’t stupid, you just choose not to because you aren’t pretentious. Yeah, you aren’t pretentious. Sure.

Whoa Dan: To forgive is to shut people up, and yet it is not divine? What is wrong with you? Shutting people up is divine. You should shut up. That would be divine. Especially about how big your weiner is. Look, it was cute and all when you started using weiner as your term for dick-shlong, but now it’s just a catchphrase. As is “House It.” As is literally everything you write. Let me try to write a blog entry for you: Hey I got high off of lots of blunts and laughed at poop. I have a girlfriend, weird, right? Girls should do more so that I can stick my big weiner in them. In their mouths, let’s be clear because I’m still a little frightened of vaginas. House it. Editors Note: I don’t really have anything worthwhile to say, but I feel another need to reference both my shit and my penis so I just thought of a new phrase: WeinerDoodie. It means when you fuck a pile of shit with your limp penis. It’s funny because it involves the same things I’ve made jokes about for the past 6 years and it says them using words that 8 year olds use. Do you get it yet? Do I need to make another editor’s note despite the fact that calling myself an editor of my own blog is both narcissistic and inaccurate.

Cool Grace: You have an opinion on facebook places??!!?!? WHAT?!!? OMG stop the presses, stop my dick, it needs to leave mid penetration to read this fucking fascinating article on how invasion of privacy is blah blah blah. I didn’t even finish reading this because I’m sure I understand the conclusion: I don’t want people to know what I’m doing, that’s why I publish it constantly on the internet via this blog.

Oooooh Paul: Look at me, I can draw and be earnest in my childish endeavors into coloring. Everybody is gonna think this is cool an hip. It’s not it’s just that Paul is a fucking child who can’t grow up because he doesn’t have to because his parents buy him all the root beer he needs. Could you not resist coloring in your own drawing Paul? Why don’t you not resist working on the project we’re working on together instead of playing in coloring books like a fucking four year old?

Wowza Scott: I’m Scott, I don’t have anything interesting to say. I just spend all my time focusing on what others say and repeating them. I actually genuinely respect your laziness, but I hate your non-fear of death. That’s stupid. Death is scary. Don’t be dumb.

Sarah??: “Nice guy from Turkmenistan.” Really? That’s your description? Really? … We all know turkmenisties are fuckwads.

mmm Syreeta: Look at how cultured I am! Look at how much i don’t think about being in America! Look at my boring apartment with nothing in it but my loneliness!

Duh Sara: Tristan is a dude’s name. Also, great job copyrighting your little tidbits. Everybody is trying to steal them.

Yeah Brad: Y’know who’s the jerk? You. You’re the jerk. And you know who you got your genetic material from? Not your pretty aunt, but your ugly mother. That’s why you are such a jerk, because you are bitter that everybody thinks you are soooo ugly. Well, too bad, this is the real world and some people are ugly and some people are beautiful. You are ugly, deal with it. And, whoopdifuckingdoo, you got to talk about your childhood again and all the great shows you are doing with great lineups. Try something new, like not putting weird pictures in your posts that only serve to confuse me as to what message you are presenting and take up a lot of space so that you don’t have to write that much.

Wahoo Girl who commented on my blog and now I’ve started reading hers because I’m lonely and I tend to really enjoy it for the most part: You got on stage and liked it. Wow! Revelation alert!!! You enjoy talking about yourself enough to start a blog about it and now you are realizing that you like talking about yourself too?! Holy shit! Wait, before we move on, let’s talk about how embarrassing it was for you to have a 4.0 in middle school. Nobody had a 4.0 in middle school. And it doesn’t matter if your mom mentioned it. You did. Right now. You are bragging. Stupidly. Like someone who got a 2.0 in middle school. I would have given you strait Cs in 4th grade.

Here we go, Me: You are too jealous of everyone else’s success to comment on the fact that you have a depressing life that mostly revolves around your judgement of others in similar boats to you. Maybe if you laced those boats together you could make a big cruise ship, but you’d rather take a dump in everybody else’s boat because you are so full of shit. Also, trim your beard it looks gross.

Attention Whoring, Pathetic

Me: In Clothes

People refuse to allow me to not care about my looks. People refuse to accept that I just don’t give a shit about how I’m dressed and how desirable that makes sex with me seem. I’m not just talking about people who first meet me, but close friends who don’t understand my style of dress.

They come up to me and say: “Y’know that look you go for? well…” No. I don’t. I’m not going for a look. I just don’t care what I look like most of the time. That is not to say that I don’t dress up. I like playing dress up sometimes, but on a day to day basis my clothes are whatever dirty clothes I grab off my pile near my bed and those clothes are not typically bought with any forethought. Typically not even bought.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t care how you dress – it’s fine to have aesthetic that you aim for – it’s just not something I do. I’m not trying to be hip by looking like I don’t care, I”m not trying to be quirky, or pull off some statement. I’m just attempting to be comfortable – and comfortable sometimes means picking uncomfortable colthes that are sitting close to my bed and are therefore easy to grab.

I love attention, but I got over my need to grab attention with my body fabrics by freshman year of college. I can do it with my loud penis jokes, my untimely belching, and my loud penis jokes.

I get told that I look good sometime, always with surprise as though I tried something different today and they like it. “Try it again” No thank you. I will not try at all. Trying is boring.

Attention Whoring, Lonely, Nostalgia

Me: In Writings About Textings

I found this in my notebook:

For the second day in a row I’ve seen someone cry on the subway. The first was a woman coming home from a shortened night of partying, probably because someone broke her heart and she was looking down so that she wouldn’t have to wipe her eyes and draw attention to her sadness. Below her face was a puddle that kept being added to by the salty rain that poured out of her face. Today there was a man wearing a black hat to cover a large gash in his head. The gash had healed, but no hair had grown back yet. He was texting someone on his Iphone. The text he was replying to said: “text me when you’re on the train so that I know your [misspellings left in] safe” He slowly and arduously punched in “I am on” and sent his response before our train went underground and he could not add endums [misuse of words purposeful] of anger or sadness. I know the contents of these texts because I was peering over his shoulder because I’m creepy and don’t respect privacy.

I also found this in my notebook:

I tutor via craigslist sometimes.

There are all kinds of horror stories of murderers on c-list luring in young nubile tutors for their silence of the lambs style fetishes. In case it happens, I practice sending text messages with my hands behind my back. They always are texts directing people to look at my computer where I leave a google map up of my location. So go to my computer if you get a text that says: “Hekd hostage address on xo.p”

I also found these three sentences written without any context:

I grew a beard because I wanted old men to stop trying to have sex with me.

I like following conventionally attractive girls because I like watching the guys who look at them.

I feel very comfortable around attractive lesbians.

Attention Whoring, Nostalgia

Back With Thoughts From Before

After a trip that away that was sortof perfect in it’s own depressing way, I am back. I had a decent time, and re-realized why I liked all my friends, while simultaneously realizing that it wasn’t a place I could be right now. Recognizing that the past was great for the past and the present is great for the present. Also coming to terms with the fact that the hat trick will not come true and the future will not be great in any way.

I come back to NYC where I ride buses and subways and therefore write on receipts and scraps of paper I have around. Here’s some receipt writing that I found in Minnesota when someone called me out on my busting-out-of its-seems velcro-wallet (despite my complete lack of wealth) and I cleaned house.

UnFiction UnSentences:

Three fat asians, one with gucci knock off sunglasses, and a dirty undersized t-shirt with sweat stains, one with an FDNY bball cap and an ipod, and one with three huge dunes of fat – the first below his elastic of his pants, the second just above that, and the last his breasts. All where arguing about who found the free subway pass.

The smiling man with a ponytail and beard sipping his dunkin donuts mocha frappaccino who knows I’m writing about him as I keep looking up for details.

The kid who is dressed to look like he is coming from the office who keeps attempting to not fall asleep even though two people to his left and right are in dreamland by falling slightly forward dropping his iphone and jerking back up suddenly only to pick up his mini-Macintosh and do the process again.

When I demand attention I don’t want people to think “Man, my life sucks compared to him” not people to think “at least I’m not him.” PDA is bragging.