Thursday, December 31, 2009

Upside Down, All Around, and of Course a New Year

That's it. Later Polarads 2009. What's up Polarads 2010?
They'll be up tomorrow on the site.

Stay classy San Diego.

Just a Glass of Wine

I'm not entirely sure what will come of this. If she sleeps over she might spend the night crying in my arms; we might play Scrabble or just fuck instead. It's sort of 50/25/5/10/5 chance with an additional five percent chance of us just screaming at one another.

I've been wrong before about these things. There was one time I was sure I was going to sleep with this girl so I brought a condom safely concealed in my wallet. I was eight and it stayed there for ten years.

But then again what do I know?

Wednesday, December 30, 2009


I'm not exactly sure how they met but it involved a leather bomber jacket and a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

His grandfather handed it down to him (the jacket, not the girl.) It was it's inaugural night out. She happened to be interested (the jacket).

They chitchatted, they took each other's photo and then it came time to say their goodbyes.

As it turns out he was never really good(the jacket) at saying goodbye so he kissed her on the cheek or was it the collar of her shirt? Who knows these days? Cheek, nape? They're both the same right?


Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The Weeds

The motivation to do something profound had somehow escaped his body. It didn't leave a Dear John or waver at the door-- it just left. He got over it somehow. He bought a bottle of soda and a few bags of Dipsy Doodles. Things were fine. He was complacent in his bed, drowning in forgotten movies from his attic.

Before all this he had a few ideas about the world. He had read Fitzgerald and felt like he had knew just how the things actually worked. Motivation comes and goes he thought. It's not a huge loss. He figured there's always Dipsy Doodles, macaroons and soda to keep him busy.

He went along like this for a while. No one seemed to mind or care until he ran into it again at the grocery store. It had been eyeing some frozen peas to make for a rather ornate dinner party. He had a basket full of Baskin Robbins and cold medicine. They didn't say anything at first, until he decided to speak up. hands are sort of full, could you grab some mint chocolate chip?


He had tried every possible way to make it up to her. Foliculitus is not a serious skin disease, but it just so happened to appear in an incovenient area. He thought it was herpes, he panicked. He skirted the issue of sex on more than one occassion and even went as far as making an excuse to not visit on Valentines Day.

An entire year had passed and they said maybe a handful of words to one another over the phone, but on one blissful summer he brought his camera and a stiff erection to a bonfire party for one of her colleagues. They tiptoed past a few unsuspecting friends and tried to fingerbang their way to happiness. She reluctantly said no, so he instead shot photos of her coworkers. They never spoke again until he found a new girl and some ointment for his rash.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Get YerYaYa's Out

You'd be amazed to see how far a pair of wool socks can get you. I mean I've got all kinds of socks, but wool socks are by far the most exceptional.

I can say this in full confidence because I wear only wool socks. You know the thick kind with the elastic around the ankles to ensure that they won't slip underneath the ball of your foot.
Those are the best. They last forever. The downside is that you're guaranteed to find an infinitesimal amount of dirt and lint latching on for dear life like those skates or whatever their called underneath the bellies of nurse sharks.

As a general rule of thumb: I tend to tiptoe around suspicious carpets and area rugs. And never by any means will you find me walking around my apartment with them on. I might step on cat vomit or spilled beer or something.

I take every precautionary step possible to ensure I get the most out of my wool socks. Lint's not my friend, neither is kitty's breakfast, and when something unfortunate does happen I just wear them over a new pair after I've hand washed them in the sink.

A man's got to have principles right?

Friday, December 25, 2009

Yeah...Merry Christmas.

I do hope you're all rather sauced at this point--I'm sure he was.

Feliz Navidades.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Guest Blog-Steve Dolnack


A FINE PIECE OF AMBIENT MUSIC: Perfect for the cold and dreary winter months, ambient music provides the listener a wonderfully relaxing and meditative experience. Much of it eschews melody, rhythm, and other cluttered pop sensibiliites, and instead focuses on rich textures, repetitions, and subtly-changing patterns. Good ambient music a journey, an experience to get lost in. Of particular note are Global Communication's "8:07", Woob's "Wuub", Spectrum'sand Seefeel's "Spangle".

"BURNING THE GROUND": By and far my favorite music blog, DJ Paul T's Burning The Ground is an enormous collection of 1980s and 1990s maxi-singles. With a particular emphasis on dance and pop music, Burning The Ground is a treasure trove of remixes, extended versions, vocal dubs, bonus beats, and various other permutations of hundreds and hundreds of otherwise-forgotten singles. All of the releases are ripped from compact disc or vinyl by Mr. Paul T. himself, and each one is meticulously documented with a small biographical write-up, credits, source information, and an in-depth tracklisting.

DISTORTED OR OVERDRIVEN KEYBOARDS: A classic but tragically rare technique, distorted organs and synthesizers provide the crunch of a distorted guitar with the distinct attack and decay patterns of a keyboard-based instrument, and sound abslutely stunning. Bands like Suicide and The Screamers used these to great extent, approaching punk music with synthesizers in place of guitars (See Suicide's "Ghost Rider" or The Screamers' "Eva Braun"). Perhaps the most widely-heard (albeit oft-mistaken) example is the last 45 seconds or so of Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime", with an overdriven organ performing the melody atop a series of distorted guitar chords. The instrument's finest moment, however, is without a doubt The Velvet Underground's epic 17-minute "Sister Ray". Much of the song consists of bassist John Cale playing an organ through distorted guitar amplifier, and the result is enormous and overpowering.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

It Girl

"Oh yeah?" What's up?"

"Oh no I'm straight. So what'dyou get down to last night?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Ok. I'm down."

"Do you want to meet up in like ten minutes?"

"Wait--Wait. Meet here in like ten minutes."


"Shut up"

..."I'm terribly attracted to you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, I guess we'll know in about ten minutes."


"See you in a bit."

"Wait--can I kiss you?"

"One more?"

"Ok, again?"

"Alright see you in...eight minutes."

......"Oh hey guy."

"Yeah I know they're rad."

"Oh, I bet you did that's..awesome."

"Ok, adios"

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Guest Blog-Alan Cano

I'm not sure if I should be typing something up relevant to the picture. Honestly, I was going to talk about wearing denim on denim or different shades of brown in an outfit, but I guess I'll make it some what about the photo.
I feel like some of the best couples in the world resemble each other. Take a look around you. All of your friends, strangers, and celebrities. Don't they compliment each other well? And by compliment and well I mean, don't they sort of look alike? Maybe if not look alike, they come from the same social status? Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, two of Hollywood's biggest A-List celebrities, may not look alike, but they just work together, and for so long because they have the same celebrity power. I mean this can work out for any celebrity, just so as long as they are both on the same list. Take for instance Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick. They've been married for some time now, but when you see them together, a part of it just doesn't make sense. SJP is Sex in the City, that's A-List baby, and Matthew B, well he's like C-List, B-list even. BUt it jut doesn't seem right.
Now look at the people around you. Your friends first. Think about the ones that have been dating the longest. I mean sometimes people date for a long time that it has become convenient, but when they get to a certain point in the relationship, and I mean in length, don't they start to look alike? Maybe even have the same tendencies. It's pretty eerie. I have a few friends in relationships that have lasted for years, and they all kind of looked alike. Granted the ones I know in the LTR are Asian, and Asians all look a like, it is still kinda creepy. But it's beautiful at the same time.
I mean this might not work out for interracial couples, but that goes back to the social status thing. Shit on me if you want, but hey man, I just think it's kind of interesting. Which brings me to my point. I don't think I'll find love. I might not even find my soul mate. I just can't seem to find a girl that compliments me well enough that we start resembling each other. I know my point makes no sense at all, but I've been in three relationships, two lasting a year and one a few months, but the ones that lasted a year, I felt like I never got on that level of like resemblance you know? I mean, whatever. Fuck it. Just enjoy my rambling.
For more, visit Alan's blog:

Monday, December 21, 2009

Deep Search (Jacqueline)

In the course of our relationship she had kissed more girls than I had. ( I counted three, but who's keeping score?) This one was supposed to rile me up, but it had an adverse effect. I guess this is what happens when you meet someone at a bar.

Friday, December 18, 2009



He stood at an astounding six foot nine. It was quite a sight to see him in most basements; he would have to position his neck in such a way that it made most people uncomfortable.
His eyes were wild, as was his dress. He loved flair; braces, pins, stickers, suspenders--you name it he wore it and owned it.
Shopping was by far his most favorite. Men's Big and Tall had been too "square". Bob's was a ripoff--we went bargain diving; in dumpsters, in trashcans, in other people's closets.
D.G.C's (or Dead Guy Clothes) were a staple in his wardrobe.
Gossamer was a good man. A man's man, but he also loved to cry. Oh how he would weep! Oh how I miss him dearly.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Spectangular Wizardry & the Bold Medici

I believe his name consisted of two parts: One was his title, perhaps the "Bold" or the "Brave". I forget. The second was most certainly his real name. Medici is my best guess because I remember it ended in a vowel. Also I hope you will all agree that blur adds an entirely different dimension to his condition--I am under the assumption that he has a form mental retardation or in other words is 'slow', however to his credit he does know how to lead(rather effectively might I add) an anti-war march.
-March 2008

Friday, December 4, 2009

Monday, September 14, 2009

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

So Let Me Tell You About My Boat

Travel Log-September Ninth, In the Year of our lord, Two Thousand & Nine

The minute I opened my mouth about soy milk, she said something to the effect of, "Would you just shut the fuck up already."

She sent me packing and I ended up on a train with this lady:
(Whatever you do don't ask her about weekly passes, she'll swallow you whole.)

Then I ended up in this bathroom in Trenton with signs that looked like this:

Now I'm installing peepholes in the men's room at Kohl's.

Thursday, September 3, 2009


Bring your bike to... (or just bring a friend)

New Brunswick Bike Library's
Bike-In Movie

Saturday September 5, 7pm
- Free -

Come to the bike library see what we're about. Check out the bikes. Learn to fix / build a bike.
Watch movies under the stars. Eat popcorn! - anything else byo

Short Films...
- Monty Python: Bicycle Repairman!
- New Brunswick Bike Library
- The Iowa City Bike Library

- Beijing Bicycle

Where we are...
Backyard of 154 & 148 Commercial Ave (corner of Seaman & Commercial) in New Brunswick. Lost?? Call 732-986-1126

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

New Idea for Film, Here's the Pitch:

That's it!

What to Do at Twenty Three/ Do I smell a new Career?

What to Do at Twenty Three While Living at Home.
I have no idea what to do with myself. There's only so much media and pornography one can take
in at one sitting.
(I'd say about five to ten minutes given my track record.)

Do I smell a new career?
I've decided to stop calling myself an artist, a skateboarder, and an entrepreneur, as well as all of the other things I refer to myself as, that way I can make some space for my newest title:
Re-Furbished Vaccuum Repairsmen Specialist.

It's been a passion of mine for some years now and I figured now's my time to shine.
Point being:
-No one has any cash on hand for a shady latina maid with
sticky fingers.
-Some vaccuums have lifetime warranties.
-Due to recent advances in technology, top of the line
vaccuums can also get into hard to reach areas that other
cleaning supplies can't.
-I live above a vaccuum repair shop( No transportation to work required).
- I only have a G.E.D and 1/2 of an associates from a community college.
- I can wear practically whatever I want to work.
- If David Oreck's been in business for one hundred years, why can't I get wet too?

As far as I can see, it's a win, win situation.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

At The Car Wash

I've been a bit ill at ease as of late. It seems that after six years of university I haven't decided what to do with myself. My quick fix for this is to wander about as if I were a vagrant. I either use my bicycle or my skateboard, but today I was lucky enough to have borrowed my (step)father's car.

I was so excited to cruise around in his gas guzzling piece of shit. (10 mpg, can you believe that?) I didn't have to peddle around, I didn't have to skoot about; all I had to do was fork over enough cash to fill up half a tank and I was set.

Twenty doll hairs later, I was in dick to dick traffic and not even less than a mile away from my apartment. I didn't feel elated or relieved, instead it seemed as though all of the misery and all of the grief which makes up just a 1/16 of my day, came to helm of the wheel.

So, I'm in traffic, I'm wildly emotional, and I'm in this sort daze, while everyone around me is in this sort of rush to get somewhere. My first instinct was to take my step father's car to my aunt's house, but she lived an hour away so there was no way I was going to make there at a reasonable time, so I decided to take it for a car wash.

BAD IDEA! This guy's car looks like he drove through Ground Zero with the goddamn windows down. There was ash everywhere. There had been a superficial layer of ash that had covered and concealed another layer of ash, which had also served as the upper mantle to an infinitesimal layer of crumbs and broken chips.
In addition to the ash there had also been newspapers dated from the beginning of the year and chocolate stains all over the seats.
I sure as hell wasn't going to clean everything, so when I pulled into the car wash I headed straight for the vacuums, but before I could even put the car in park, there was this dude who was staring at me reaaallll hard, like he's never seen another dude in busted ass Dodge Durango pull in before.

Whatever, fuck that guy. He was gone before I got into scraping around for quarters in the cupholders.
Just to vacuum that piece of shit took me over forty five minutes and it still looks like Mt. Saint Helens blew a load inside of it. Whatever, at least I got out of my house for an hour.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Long Live Jim's

Jim's Burger Haven is so run down and so old that you probably thought it closed twenty years ago. Well, you're sort of right. Nothing about this place has changed, except their supply of food, which by the way is fucking delicious. I got a four piece chicken and a bacon burger. It cost me a little less than eight dollars, but it was worth every penny. The burger was unreal. I don't think I've ever had bacon so crispy in my life, I mean my mom makes a pretty serious BLT, but this place is on another level.

For serious, this place's chicken will have you contemplating buying a bucket. Fuck KFC, fuck Ronald McDonald, LONG LIVE JIM'S BURGER HAVEN.

BTW, you can even play MS. Pacman or Centipede while the fourteen year-old behind the counter deep fries the shit out of your order.

Oh and I almost forgot. For some reason there's these weird kid pictures littered all over the walls of this place. It's creepy and I'm pretty sure they're the baby pictures of the girl who works behind the counter.

Just whatever you do, make this your one an only pitstop on the way to the beach, because if this place closes down I might pull a Ritchie Tenenbaum.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Dinosaurs in New Jersey

Without fail every last dinosaur that somehow survived the volcanoes, the meteor showers, and the ice age, would be eaten and consumed by the thriving homeless population in New Jersey. Not to say that metro areas like L.A. and Manhattan wouldn't put a dent in the remaining sum of Brontosauruses, Diloposauruses, and raptors(They wouldn't stand a chance, what with all of these bike messengers running into them, rogue taxi drivers, and irate pedestrians).

The starving, the poor, the down and out that dwell in squalor on the banks of rivers would find a way to roast them over a trash can.

The Dinos would become a rare delicacy and join other favorites like Canadian geese and grey squirrel meat on a kebab; They would become the talk of the town. These dino's, they never had a chance.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Hey check out my issue at Viceland. It's way old, but it's humorous enough to revisit.

**BTW It's the leftovers issue.

Questions That Will Appear on the Application at BlockBuster

So I had a job and got the sack. Now I've got rent to pay and I live with a six foot Brazilian who eats organic.

I could get another loan to pay for my expenses but I'd rather not because a simple 1,000 dollar loan ends up becoming a 2,000 dollar headache.

My original plan upon graduation was to get a job as a porter or deckhand, or something that would appear in a F.Scott Fitzgerald Story, but I ended up getting a video editing job for a company that makes money from other people's miseries.

It was a sort of moving company and my boss didn't understand english all that well, so when he fired me via text it read, "Don't not come to work. Will mail final check."

Aside from the feeling of being sacked, I felt a great sigh of relief: My boss was an idiot and he couldn't form a sentence for the life of him. Not a big deal, but now I've got no job and pile of bills.

(Enter: The Frustration of Having to Apply for Jobs that only require a High School Diploma or G.E.D)

First it was Stop & Shop. It was sort of demeaning. I had to sit at the entrance of the store to fill out an application that had questions like, "In the past three years how many times have you stolen something from your job?"

After a half hour of that, I submitted it and spoke to a guy named John, who said we'll be in touch.

Next it was Blockbuster.

This was by far the worst and the most difficult, because of questions like, "If your friend asks to steal something, even though you know he's not supposed to, do you do it?"

I was in a pinch, so I answered " Yes".

Friday, August 7, 2009