Wednesday, March 23, 2016


the big guy, Trinidad, we made a short film with him. cuz he looked like a gangster. and he was out of his head but a softie. and i looked him up awhile back and he had died of a heart attack, on valentine's day. i don't know what made me think of him

Monday, March 21, 2016

the after party

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

times square times square times square

I wish I was better with faces, so I could remember yours

Saturday, March 12, 2016

pao de queijo

when people smoke cigs here it makes more sense than i'm used to. it's not that the buildings and density block out the eyes of the sky on them so much as they already insulate the lives in death.

i said there are no periods in the sentences of life only commas, so,

but this is neither. this is my cheekbones in a storefront window reflected back at me. this is my cheekbones on display in a skeleton exhibit. these are my organs donated to science. an aquarium of knowledge swimming in fluid. a sandwich with butter, cucumber, cheese, salt and pepper. a young woman who says her mom was in africa in the '80's backpacking and making sure her moments were interesting even if they didn't add up. how much more beautiful then, to not do it for the math, but the moments and

he came he saw he loved life dearly dearly

Thursday, March 10, 2016

little skips

two women with pink hair
one cut short
one up in a bun
go walk dude
go walk

hey i haven't seen u around

Once in awhile it works out for the good guy. That's what he thought w/ a smirk on his face getting onto the airplane. They gave him a better seat for being patient about having to late check his carry on luggage. They gave him a better seat for being less meddlesome than the woman who was trying to steal a seat in first class. He became their confidante, in a way, waiting for his seat.

I met a girl outside a bagel truck in Silver Lake. She never texted back. I met a girl at the airport in Dallas-Fort Worth. She offered me a bite of her food. I once told someone I got fucked up to dim the staggering brightness of my pain. And I've been sober for a couple months. That was before this one little painkiller, I'd been sober for two months.

But I get it, the little slip between the pain. Where humor & death is found. Cuz pain, the truth is that pain anesthetizes us to death. Pain is an immunity to death even though it physically draws us nearer. It is still different than the drunk sadness of this never happening again.

She was eating Asian food. Tofu, rice, broccoli, drenched in what was surely a thick sweet gooey sauce. I'd had a turkey burger and that one little pill cuz I was bored and my face hurt, like I had a bunch of pressure in my cheekbones & my nose & it is anxiety like a brick. And I'd just been bravely been dealing w/ it.

I thought we were in the air but we hadn't even taken off. She said in high school she wrote a play about two pencils falling in love. She looks like my ex-girlfriend did.