I write. I procrastinate sometimes. Sometimes.
Artwork by Duffboy
They belong to no one but you, aspirations. Bastard, ackward feelings. Predictable even. A Rogue tattoo, a metaphor. 90’s pop culture and shattered dreams.
First post of the year! Now, to my defense: I’m quite detail oriented, and I could be posting from my phone much more often but… I haven’t set a gallery of featured images to accompany the posts (will work on that, I promise), and that specific lack of visual content has prevented me from being a more prolific blogger. Shame on me, I know.
Now, super quick 2016 creativity update: I did give up on my GIF challenge, but on the other hand I started writing haikus. So, that evens out my commitment towards trying something new. Circling back to today: I switched one of my work off days so it has been quite the relaxing Friday for me. I cut my own hair, since I finally purchased a Remington device, I’m just waiting for the oh so necessary shower to get rid of the tiny excess hair. This week also marked a wonderful addition to my tattoo collection, something both vintage and heartfelt (for me at least):
I just finished listening to an episode of The Truth Barrel, an enlightening podcast hosted by Gabrielle Reese and Neil Strauss, while my cat rests on my lap.
Politics? Fucking Trump, people… insulted his way into the presidency. I trust that he’ll do a wonderful job… at getting impeached in record time. Fingers crossed!
This blog post´s title is a quote from Chelsea Manning in the documentary We Steal Secrets.
That’s all for now.
As I write this I should probably be asleep, but I’m not of course. This has been quite the year for me and all of us (I know). Let’s just not get into the death toll (not just surrounding popular culture) of 2016, it seems as though we are living in deadlier times. I’m reading a beautiful novel right now: Love is the higher law, and its themes are ever more present in what I’m feeling. The intersection of loss, fear, faith and strength.
I just finished watching the next to last episode of Girls, season 3. Hanna is the least sympathetic character that I’ve watched on screen, perhaps ever. I’ll take it as a master calss into how not to write in terms of filmmaking or tv. This year allowed me to get closer to achieving my own cinematic dreams, btw.
I’m starting to get hungry and sleepy. Catch you later.
I recently had the opportunity to spend time with the current president of Oulipo and several other notable French citizens. For several moments, I felt quite like a foreigner. Nevertheless, I was able to talk about one of my closest literary passions: six-word memoirs. Now, as I’m trying to be ever so productive, I’ll just think of some examples that I could come up with right now:
Where are you Windows Media Player?
Friday. Thinking about an office shower.
When will Maron interview Alison Rosen?