Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I Am Very Angry

There's this thing I wanted you to do--
You didn't do it!
Or you didn't do it correctly!
Now I'm very angry with you,
So angry I'm forced to tell you about it:

My emotional state should be approximately happy.
I should be content, satisfied, passive, sated.
Instead, I feel this void in my life
Where the happiness would be,
The happiness which would have resulted
From the thing you should have done
When I asked you to do it,


If I use greater lung capacity,
Higher volume, and sharper enunciation,
Will you be persuaded not to make the same mistake again,
Or correct the mistake you've already made?

This is very taxing for me emotionally--
Scolding you like this--
So I hope something's getting through,
and I'm not dumping my inventory of passion
Into an unfeeling, uncaring, unsympathetic furnace.

I want you to squirm but not to cry.
Crying makes me feel like a cruel person,
So you need to shut up and absorb this berating
With a sufficiently anxious frown.

When I was a small child,
I often found myself monologuing in empty rooms.
I need you to be here to listen to this
Or I will look like a crazy person yelling at the wall.

My skull is filled with razor blades.
Did I say that out loud?
I want to eat your dumb eyeballs.
You're being so stupid right now.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Internet Sage

He has seen every youtube video.
He has read every Tweet.
He's memorized everyone's newsfeed.
He has viewed every tumblr,
Every image macro, every animated gif.
He has absorbed every article
On every blog, webzine, and news site.
He knows the names of everyone on Facebook--
Their interests, favorite bands and movies.
He remembers every comment you've ever posted.
He's seen all the LOLcats,
And he's seen every clip of pornography,
Gruesome beheadings, and celebrities smoking crack.
He's explored the internet's deepest recesses,
Its darkest corners, its hidden crannies.
He finally understands it all.
A wave of clarity washes over him.
An ethereal light shines down.
His body vibrates with the electric rhythm of the universe
As well as cumulative red bull consumption.
And a great cosmic truth blooms in his mind:
He needs to get a fucking job.
There is no blogger app for the iPad. This is disappointing.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I wrote this article. I'm filling the internet with garbage I think. You're welcome?

What My Final Act in Life Will Probably Be

Jayson Musson is one of my favorite artists/writers/satirists I can think of.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Monday, August 15, 2011

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Read some Justin Chin poems between increasingly frantic bouts of writer's block/creative bankruptcy.

"Lick the dry shit out of my sweaty buttcheeks.
I've had my hepatitis shots so it's okay
Lick my butt
cos I'm an angry ethnic fag
& I'm in so much pain
So lick my butt."

Monday, August 8, 2011

Here's an article I wrote for thought catalog about bathrobes.
Miracle Socks

I always knew socks were a miracle.
It's why I rejected flip flops and slippers.
Their soft fabric surface caresses my foot,
Shields it from the abrasive interior of the shoe,
Keeps it warm in chilly weather,
And soaks up the toe sweat during summer.

I have an unspoken heirarchy of sock brands,
Socks I refuse to wear--too loose or short.
Those socks that barely stick out of the shoe,
I do not like those socks.
Those socks with the yellow band down the edge,
I do not like those socks either.

But then there are the sacred pairs
With perfect length, tightness, and fit.
These are my secret treasures,
And I wear them until the bottoms turn brown
because I don't like doing laundry really.
I toss them next to my bed in a smelly pile.

I always knew socks were a miracle,
but it never occurred to me to invent miracle socks.
Look how sexy that old man's legs become!
That doctor prescribes socks to his patients!
That lady hates her gross leg veins!
They energize you somehow.
And there's a CG illustration of leg anatomy.
Not only that, but you get two free tubes of foot goo.

Everyone's in so much pain,
Or they don't have enough energy,
Or they're scared of how their legs look.
When will health insurance cover these socks?
Don't they understand they're a miracle?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

I am becoming increasingly obsessed with poet, playwright, and actor Edgar Oliver.

I just can't believe he's a real person.
Scott Pilgrim Versus the World

Ramona’s aloof bitchy expression,
Her icy condescending comments,
Her casual infidelity,
No, that is a bunch of bullshit.
Everyone seems confused at the end
As to why in God’s name Scott
Would still be interested in that bitch.
She’s not smart, interesting, or endearing
Not in any way, shape, or form.
Like so many snobby hipster bitches,
She only has her thin veneer of affectation.
Knives says, “Go after her,”
And even Scott seems baffled.
“Did you see the rest of the movie, Knives?”

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Lost World: Jurassic Park


Jeff Goldblum watches in bemused horror
As his daughter suddenly performs a gymnastics routine
In the old dilapidated warehouse.

A velociraptor is poised to eat his face,
Claws outstretched, mouth gaping,
But it too has stopped to watch her perform.

She flips and twirls on the metal bar,
Expertly swinging in a blur of rapid spinning.
‘Why is this happening?’ wonders Jeff Goldblum.
‘Can I eat it?’ wonders the velociraptor.
“Is dad impressed with my gymnastics skills?” wonders the daughter.

For what seems like forever
They watch her perform,
Jeff Goldblum and the raptor,
Lost in bewilderment,
Utterly dumbfounded,


Vince Vaughan holds a giant tranquilizer gun,
And explains how the neurotoxin acts so fast
You’ll be out before you feel the prick of the dart.

Vince Vaughan spews saliva into Julianne Moore’s hand.
 She wipes it on his chest and says, “Your gum!”
Then he spits his gum in her hand.

Vince Vaughan says “You gotta love it.”
And Jeff Goldblum says, “I’ll love it when it works.”
And Vince Vaughan says, “It’ll work when you love it.”

Vince Vaughan looks up at the T-Rex
As Volkswagen size jaws tear apart his friend,
And blood sprays across his face,
And lightning forks through the sky
And chunks of his friend rain down like confetti,
And everyone’s screaming screaming screaming.
And under his breath, he whispers, “You’re money, baby.”