How Busy Are You?
When people ask me how I’m doing, they don’t want to hear me ramble about an article I’m writing or a book I’m editing. They are asking how I am doing. And often, I don’t know. When I’m not working, I don’t feel entirely whole.
You Are A Short Story, He Was A Novel
You are more like: writing in the lines, in the margins, in the sides of notebooks. Swirls doodled in class. Jotted lines on napkins. You are spilling out of me, bursting.
I Think I Can Heal Myself Like Wolverine
Whenever I get injured or sick, my go-to method is the ol’ “do nothing.” Yep. I do nothing. I continue on with my life, dragging my half-working body around like I’m the guy from Monty Python and The Holy Grail. “It’s just a flesh wound!” I shout as my arm falls off.
Excerpts From My Weird, Lonely Travel Diary
Paris: Where you’ll never be as well-dressed as that random chain-smoking twelve year old.
Tumblr Is For Lovers
It’s a lovely little creative outlet for people who want to not only, let’s say, watch a TV show, but to engage and create and comment on and be inspired by that show. On my corner of the Internet, Tumblr is a place where fans can be fans — together.
You Are My Muse
You’re the Diane Keaton and Mia Farrow to my Woody Allen. The Patty Boyd to my Eric Clapton and George Harrison. The half-Japanese cello enthusiast to my Weezer.
The Different Internet K-Holes There Are
In a flash, it’s six hours later and I know the words to all of One Direction’s songs and I hate Finchel and I think bowties are cool and I want Sherlock to shag the bejesus out of John Watson. I look out my window at the people having fun on the city streets and I pity them.
Insane Things I’ve Said To Romantic Partners
What I actually said seems like something a fetishist would ask of a specialty hooker.
Let’s Run Away
I am looking at you. Your furrowed eyebrows, your intent on your task, your dedication to working and to a lightened screen when the sun shines in from the outside through a window advertising chai lattes and I have one ringing, piercing thought: Let’s run away.
Do You Believe In Bigfoot?
If Bigfoot is real, then what else is out there in the world — beyond the accepted walls of your city’s Museum of Science? What else are we wrong about? It would cause a re-examination of just about everything. It’d be fantastic.