Cardigan Blues

Taunting Nature #1

2011-10-08T10:27:00.000-07:00

Hey dolphins, for how much fun your lives may seem, you'll never know the feeling of putting on a jacket

You're in the big leagues now #1

2011-05-28T04:55:00.000-07:00

Hera: Sent a gad-fly to torment Io. That bitch knows why.

Dear Darwin

2011-05-22T04:39:00.000-07:00

Dear D-dubs: Pollinating bats & bees are basically doing fellatio (source). Weird.

Guys, she's on the moon

2010-06-22T18:16:00.001-07:00

<---zoom, rotate, crop, enhance, enhance--->

For Andy

2010-05-26T20:19:00.001-07:00

List of monsters I'd like to meet (and the situations through which I'd like to meet them):
Drow,
Dullahan,
A female minotaur,
A wounded harpie,
A pair of argumentative ogres,
A shoe-shopping elf,
Any wingless dragon, or Asian dragons,
A gorgon with plenty of pip,
A dendroid with pip in his step,
A cyclops stepping up to the plate,
A pixie too shy to bathe,
Ivy, smart and wry,
Moth, giant and spry,
Hydra, letting her hair down,
Gremlin, getting his hair done,
A gargoyle with fever, perched on a cold gate,
Death, who is generally never late.

Dear Darwin

2010-05-17T22:57:00.000-07:00

Will you think any less of me if I referred to pistachios as land clams? Clam-juniors?

"A pound of Clay-jays, please."
"I'd like for you to leave my shop."

Dear Darwin

2010-05-04T15:22:00.001-07:00

Have you seen Starship Troopers yet? You'd like it.

My Three-Part Beef...

2010-04-18T01:32:00.000-07:00

...with GQ.com:

1) There's a pretty good reason I don't like looking at resumes-- the words feel slutty. It's the same sort of tarted-up, your-attention-goes-here ocular-fucking at GQ.com. I think the sluttiness comes from choking the sentences with verbs. Too many verbs and the reader never has a chance to engage or feel at ease with the message-- there's no room for insight to develop and it all feels cheap & vacuous. But, maybe that's what GQ is going for.

2) On GQ's "10 tips for more stylish living", or something, a good 13 slides (they do it up slide-show) is devoted to mastering the oyster (slides 88 through 101). Neat, I guess, if you're a fag (seriously, when am I going to need 13 slides on shucking oysters? [therein ends GQ's guidance on the oyster {slide 101 covers the perfect shucking knife: german-made, more handle than blade}]).

3) I get the sense that one's sense of style is something intensely personal. But when GQ starts slinging around the "commandments of style", or when they have like a thing about the most stylish celebrity babies, it makes you sort of wonder if GQ even understands that agency and personality are prerequisites to having a sense of style. For a rag that's been around since 1957, you'd think that GQ would give at least that much credit to its readership.

What is the point of the boogeyman?

2010-03-01T08:39:00.000-08:00

Don't believe in gods, but I'm fearful of them. Don't believe in boogeymen, but I check my bed most nights. Actually, as a compromise, I fill that underside with books and old scribblings, but I'd love to know boogeyman kryptonite.

My Three-Part Beef...

2010-02-27T13:19:00.000-08:00

...with life in Hyde Park, Chicago:

1) Took a shower today and realized for the first time that my shower curtains are spotted just like burnt hash browns or potato rounds. The last thing of mine that could've been clean was not.

2) My walls take on a brilliant sheen of peach, or uterus, with the right light.

3) "That's not an Australian accent-- you just said a different word in place of the word you ought've said."

Dear Darwin

2010-02-25T00:19:00.000-08:00

The natural enemy of cars with canvas roofs: bats.

Magic me up some snake-oil

2010-02-23T23:48:00.000-08:00

The most populous things on my table appear to be pills that supplement good sleep, good immuno response, dynamo reflexes, to-the-punch metabolism, and they're all zinc, somehow.