what are you doing tonight?
-i dunno. playing with myself?
you can't say that to me. you're supposed to say you're gonna fuck a girl.
-oh yeah, totally, i'm gonna fuck like three girls.
all right, have fun playing with yrself.
haiku called
i was scared:
a telephone call
from istanbul is all i
need to be happy
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- Daniel Portland
- East Bay, Boyfriend
- ADULT BABY + DEADPAN SENSUALIST + DISAPPOINTED LOVER + DISKO DICK + DISSTHENTIC ACADEMIC + ENFANT TERRIBLE + ENGINEER OF BRICOLAGE + HOMOTEXTUAL ARTIST + ITINERANT BEGGAR-POET + MOMENT MAKER + MYSTERY PRIEST + PRISONER OF LOVE + RELUCTANT GENTLEMAN + SCHIZOID + SHY HUNTER + SLY FOX + STALWART LOVER
"Oh, Renoir"—it sounds like "au revoir." It sounds like the exclamation of a sculpture connoisseur! Together, it sounds like a farewell to bloated artistic declarations.
"A Journal"—A locked and flowery journal written in by a twelve-year-old girl. A scholarly journal. ((As s)cholar.) The combination of which—twelve-year-old girl scholar—seems apt enough, if not particularly apt, of describing the mental trappings of so many of our college-educated twenty-something peers. An eagerness in the wrong direction. Knowledge funneled through inexperience. Curiosity will kill our cool cats. Really, this is a sketchbook.
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