December 2010
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I took the 1 train (all by myself!) and now I’m at the museum of natural history (I think). !!
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my social ineptitude has reached a critical level
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My Creative Process ©
I’m going to write a stream of consciousness short story. Just start writing, no plan, just do it and it will work itself out. I am not a reasonable man. In 1993 I walked out of the front door of my house, jacket in my arms (it was quick, I couldn’t be seen or heard, I put it there and walked out fast and quiet as I could), my wife and child enjoying their dinner oblivious, I got in my car...
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Captain James T. Kirk was empty. Not the figurative and numb Bret Ellis kind of...
– drunk at 2:30 and writing the best fanfic of my life
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There were moments bristling with deadness, when she looked out at her life and...
– Lorrie Moore, “Willing” (via synecdoche)
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i don’t have any vodka or orange juice so i made a screwdriver with beer and apple juice
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'Being "Happy"' Is Overrated! And Other Such...
There’s a sweeping relief.1 Relief. Just like a whoosh and a deep breath and a smile and brushing it all off and there, moved on, great and good. The kind of relief that’s unprecedented in adult life. Really, the kind that happens in movies and imagination and darkness-fuelled writing. It’s nice, you know, but not to brag. The distinction between nice and not nice is thin. (The...
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i always confuse brian eno and tv on the radio
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My unhealthy, friend-repelling "I like Doctor Who... →
I’m watching/rewatching every episode of Doctor Who FROM THE BEGINNING OF TIME and blogging about it/them/how I’m going to be alone forever. Please read.
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reflections (ugh) on my first formal writing class
I wrote this paper for the class. It’s funny and full of self-doubt.
For a long time, I’ve been bad at being a writer; at least, I’m bad at fulfilling the role of “Writer”. I don’t mean that I’m bad at sitting alone in a room illuminated only by the glow of my computer, drinking scotch whiskey and listening to Bob Dylan until my ears bleed, or spending thousands of dollars a year at...
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i’ve trashed my memoirs, wiped it from my hard drive at least as well as i know how and i am vowing to never write long-form nonfiction about my life ever again or, so help me julian assange, i will ruin my chances of ever being published by sending electronic copies of my high school diaries to every respectable publishing company on the planet with a cover letter reading solely “IS...
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