argued peacock or turkey after 8-person meeting after mca boston after morning potatoes after evening pizza after ica boston en route to shroomami
he liked yellow, huh?
taste daily rooibos chai, peppermint, hibiscus, just one of three, nothing crazy. exiting train station, some get in cars, some wander into the distance
read me talk pretty one day by david sedaris
if i wanted to spend the rest of my life as david thedarith, then so be it
"on the final day of the year we take down the pine tree in our living room and eat marine life"
i started in on an a cappella version of the latest oscar mayer commercial, hoping he might join in once the spirit moved him
my beret as tight as an acorn's cap
their artworks were known as "pieces," a phrase i enthusiastically embraced. "nice piece," i'd say. in my eagerness to please, i accidentally complimented chipped baseboards and sacks of laundry waiting to be taken to the cleaners
the art world was our conceptual oyster and we ate it raw
clutching the arm of the curator, shouting, "i just passed a lady in the bathroom and told her, 'honey, why flush it? carry it into the next room and they'll put it on a goddamn pedestal'"
an epic shouting match in which we exhausted all our analogies
boys who had killed their brothers over an ice-cream sandwich
the meatloaf has been poached in seawater, or there are figs in the tuna salad. if cooking is an art, i think we're in our dada phase
what i really want is a cigarette, and i'm always searching the menu in the hope that some courageous young chef has finally recognized tobacco as a vegetable
angels, she said, were god's way of saying howdy
"i'm putting it on my to-do list as we speak"
"and who are we today?" my mother used to ask, leading to amy's "who don't you want me to be?"
"it's a typewriter," i say. "you use it to write angry letters to airport authorities"
"we saved your ass in world war ii"
i find it ridiculous to assign a gender to an inanimate object incapable of disrobing and making an occasional fool of itself. why refer to lady crack pipe or good sir dishrag when these things could never live up to all that their sex implied?
if a person who constantly reads is labeled a bookworm, then i was quickly becoming what might be called a tapeworm
the card reported the amount of water used every year in hotel laundry rooms and suggested that, in having my sheets and towels changed on a daily basis, i was taking this precious water directly from the cupped hands of a dehydrated child
caution: gorilla statues may be hot
whenever the conversation turned to the subject of fairs and amusement parks, i'd wait until my companions had finished their mediocre anecdotes and then, at just the right moment, almost as an afterthought, i'd say, "i once saw a girl fall to her death from one of those rides"
french milk, which comes in a box and can sit unrefrigerated for five months, at which point it simply turns into cheese and is moved to a different section of the grocery store
"but not the whole thing. i stopped after the first few bites"
"on the final day of the year we take down the pine tree in our living room and eat marine life"
i started in on an a cappella version of the latest oscar mayer commercial, hoping he might join in once the spirit moved him
my beret as tight as an acorn's cap
their artworks were known as "pieces," a phrase i enthusiastically embraced. "nice piece," i'd say. in my eagerness to please, i accidentally complimented chipped baseboards and sacks of laundry waiting to be taken to the cleaners
the art world was our conceptual oyster and we ate it raw
clutching the arm of the curator, shouting, "i just passed a lady in the bathroom and told her, 'honey, why flush it? carry it into the next room and they'll put it on a goddamn pedestal'"
an epic shouting match in which we exhausted all our analogies
boys who had killed their brothers over an ice-cream sandwich
the meatloaf has been poached in seawater, or there are figs in the tuna salad. if cooking is an art, i think we're in our dada phase
what i really want is a cigarette, and i'm always searching the menu in the hope that some courageous young chef has finally recognized tobacco as a vegetable
angels, she said, were god's way of saying howdy
"i'm putting it on my to-do list as we speak"
"and who are we today?" my mother used to ask, leading to amy's "who don't you want me to be?"
"it's a typewriter," i say. "you use it to write angry letters to airport authorities"
"we saved your ass in world war ii"
i find it ridiculous to assign a gender to an inanimate object incapable of disrobing and making an occasional fool of itself. why refer to lady crack pipe or good sir dishrag when these things could never live up to all that their sex implied?
if a person who constantly reads is labeled a bookworm, then i was quickly becoming what might be called a tapeworm
the card reported the amount of water used every year in hotel laundry rooms and suggested that, in having my sheets and towels changed on a daily basis, i was taking this precious water directly from the cupped hands of a dehydrated child
caution: gorilla statues may be hot
whenever the conversation turned to the subject of fairs and amusement parks, i'd wait until my companions had finished their mediocre anecdotes and then, at just the right moment, almost as an afterthought, i'd say, "i once saw a girl fall to her death from one of those rides"
french milk, which comes in a box and can sit unrefrigerated for five months, at which point it simply turns into cheese and is moved to a different section of the grocery store
"but not the whole thing. i stopped after the first few bites"
4/17