Yesterday I got a rare gift. I was in the Lower Garden District (probably the most inconveniently far-away neighborhood from house in New Orleans proper), when my bike got a flat tire.Read More
Lonely Sinornithosaurus Wants To Make You Soar: I'm usually not good at describing myself but here it goes. I'm a big guy; charming; a gentleman; covered in feathers from head to toe. I'm not avian, but I can pass for avian if that's your thing. I'm not too classy (Read: PRETENTIOUS) for a little role-playing! I'd prefer that you were single, a little demure, and also feathered. It's not a deal-breaker if you're not, but I tend to do better with other feathered species. It's not that I'm a bigot or anything, I just find it hard to get excited about girls who don't have feathers. Anyway, if something I wrote here piqued your interest, there's more where that came from! Just make sure that when you reply to this ad you put in the subject line "I'M FEATHERED." That way I'll know you're a real (feathered!) girl who read my ad and not a robot, or SPAM.Read More
- Flappy Noodle: Tap on your device to make the noodle flap. Flap to try to avoid obstacles like "being eaten" or "being eaten by a bird" or "being eaten by a dog." Ultimately, flapping is futile, because you are a noodle. Noodles are powerless to do anything. Gamers have lauded Flappy Noodle as "harder than Flappy Bird." Nietzsche scholars have lauded it as "relevant."
I don't make plans on Thursday nights. My two roommates and I have Family Dinner on Thursdays, and it's sacred. It's the most important plan I keep, and I accept hands-down that the dinner will take the entire night.Read More
Sometimes I look at substitute teachers and think, "Hey. Most substitute teachers seem pretty sad and fat." Yesterday, while substitute teaching, I realized that there is a reason for that. The reason is that substitute teachers deserve to be sad and fat. What I mean to say is that they've earned it. It's a very depressing, fattening job. I want to buy all the world's substitute teachers vats of ice cream and jars of fudge -- the saddest food combination out there -- just to say, "I get it."Read More
I woke up this morning at 3 a.m. to the kind of rain that begs you to submit to it. It sounded like the sky had found millions of tons of dry rice and was emptying the grains mercilessly onto the sidewalks.Read More
I recently decided to be honest with myself about the kinds of people I like to be around and act accordingly.
In middle school, here was my policy: if a person was willing to spend time with me, then I liked to be around that person. There were no exceptions to this. The person did not even have to be nice. As long as the person would put up with me for more than 15 minutes, the person was my favorite person.Read More
I've been playing with gouache lately. I wanted to try a comic with just two colors, but I think this is a failure. Oh well. Keep trying!
I had meant to spend yesterday afternoon working in sulky solitude on all the projects I have to do but have no interest in doing. Obviously I failed at that because I have virtually no self-regulation. Instead, I ran into my friend Ned at the coffee shop (where the work was supposed to be done), and he said, "Do you want to go to this exhibit at the Contemporary Art Center called 30 Americans right now?"Read More
On Friday (Valentine's Day), I was asked to substitute assistant teach in a kindergarten classroom at the charter school that had employed me for five years. I spend a lot of time at this school anyway, since it is one of the closest approximations to a home I have ever really known.Read More
Yesterday I got a letter in the mail from a pen pal in Portland. It was written by a girl I thought I was going to hate -- she was dating one of my best friends from high school, and I'm really picky about the people my friends date. I want them all to be dating humanitarian celebrities, since whomever they marry is going to end up one of my new best friends, too. It's all very selfish. Anyway, the girl turned out to be incredible -- like, if you read her character in a comic book you'd say, "Man, I love everything Dan Clowes does, but frankly, this girl is too good to be believed."Read More
When I was six years old, I had insomnia, and it was cute. I was little, and I had adorable fears the way children do: lizard monsters, cave monsters, bed monsters, closet monsters, invisible monsters. Just your basic monster stuff.Read More
My favorite magazine, hands down, is Seventeen. I think I subscribed to it for the first time at the age of 22 because I saw an ad that promised free lip gloss with a $10 subscription. I'm a sucker for free gifts -- I have so many New Yorker Dog Books that I could outfit every upscale vet practice waiting room in the city of New Orleans. Anyway, Seventeen is my favorite because (1) It's pretty offensive, and nothing gets me off more than feeling self-righteously better than everyone else by calling out other peoples' (or magazines') insolence; and (2) GREAT MAKE-UP TIPS.Read More
I want to write about literally anything else. I am racking my brain for a subject. Let's see let's see let's see. This weekend I went to a letterpress opening, and I watched two really girly comedy movies, and the weather wasn't so bad, and I coached improv; I'm trying to find a good angle for those things, but all I can think about is how I had a very public, very ugly panic attack last night. I still feel it in parts of my body. I should probably still be sleeping it off, but my cat is like an Insane Clown Posse concert at four in the morning (very loud, lots of black and white).Read More
Amelia Bird might dislike me. Or, at least, she might not trust me very much, because when I walked into the letterpress print shop she is helping to open in New Orleans on Saturday, I lost my shit completely and acted exactly and precisely like a four-year-old who just found out that toys were a thing. That kind of behavior is charming for about three minutes, but I bounced around the studio space -- aptly called Baskerville -- for more like forty-five, rubbing the gorgeous letterpresses and fingering the heavy-grain paper. When a person is effusive like that for that extent of time, one should probably assume they either want something from you, or are on cocaine. Neither were true for me last night, and you have to believe me: I was just really, really excited to be in that space.Read More