Monthly Archives: January 2012

eating it

For someone who is trying to get back into writing regularly, it really sucks when Continue reading eating it


the place to be on a friday night

(based on a true story)

Small town, Friday night. When I say small town, I mean it.

Everyone is gathered at the local pub/grill/club (?)/gathering place, for Karaoke Night. When I say everyone, I mean it. Continue reading the place to be on a friday night

this cake…oh, my god…

Okay, I like cake. I don’t like it as much as pie, or pah, as those in the know call it. Pah is like a delicious sammich, open-faced (or not!), cut into triangles, like all good sammiches are. Pah > cake. This is fact.

But my mom is really good at things, like blaming Spock for stealing her technology that doesn’t exist yet, and knitting scarves. She is also good at making cake. That woman can bake. Bake cake. And pah! Delicious pah! But also cake. Continue reading this cake…oh, my god…

i consumed a lot of movies last year

It’s true. Everyone likes movies (for the most part), but there’s a big difference between being a movie fan and being a film buff. It boils down to semantics, ultimately, but really, there are people who just watch a lot of films and then there are people who absorb film. Who revel in the language of the form. Who make the films they consume a part of their lives somehow.

And other hifalutin’ concepts. Continue reading i consumed a lot of movies last year

imagine nothing ever changing

Recently, there was a big kerfuffle over Cee Lo Green, whom I love, changing some key lyrics to a really popular song by John Lennon, whom I don’t love but don’t necessarily hate either. I won’t hash over the gory details, because it’s kind of common knowledge by now, but it made a lot of people really, really upset. I mean really upset. Like this morsel of butthurt: Continue reading imagine nothing ever changing

[guilty] pleasures

I’m done with this phrase forever. People who feel like they have to justify their taste in music or cinema by using this phrase: knock it off. I have questionable taste in everything. I’m owning it. I don’t care if everyone knows that I love the greatest hits over the b-sides or that I don’t always go see every subtitled art film out there. In fact, I say: less artsy, more fartsy. Continue reading [guilty] pleasures