January 2012
1 post
November 2011
3 posts
April 2011
1 post
death and taxes
Fuck TurboTax. Fuck America. I don’t even want the money. Leave me alone.
June 2010
1 post
WKRG.com Live Oil Spill Cam - live streaming video... →
I’ve seen it many times already, as have most people. But I keep opening it and watching it, for hours. Mesmerized. Disgusted. Angry. It’s important to soak these images in, to let them become part of the communal consciousness, and to stir a lethargic public. This disaster is an impetus for drastic change, and the more time you spend watching the earth bleed, the harder you...
May 2010
1 post
5 Hours.
I always get creative exactly 1 hour before I go to work. I was going to work on the zine, but I was out of glue sticks. I wanted to paint something, but I couldn’t find any canvas, and someone stole all my black paint. I wanted to draw, but I didn’t know what I should draw. I wanted to graffiti over a big painting we have in my house, but I didn’t want to fog out my...
April 2010
1 post
March 2010
4 posts
It's never as clean and simple as I wished
…or understood everything to be as a child. Obviously so, and often necessary, but I was thinking about what really impacted me as I learned of life, art, sex, money. We are not television, not in appearance, health, manners, abilities, etc. There are no black outlines, there are no true solid colors. There is no constant; It all changes, abruptly, often drastically. Life is...
December 2009
3 posts
Family Tree Research Vol. 1
So the last time I saw my parents, they flew into Chicago to visit me. As they were leaving, my Mom left for Sydney at a much earlier time than my Dad’s flight back to Florida, and rather than leaving and coming back, we decided to stay and get drunk in the airport terminal waiting for his flight. We talked for hours, covering a variety of topics, as son and father often do over $8...
Dear now complete stranger of my past,
I don’t know if you know this, or know me any more, but we were once in love, in grade school, whether you knew it or not. Your friends too; Jasmine, Kelly, Colleen, Whitney, Jackie, Alison. We all were. We were free and happy, bright-eyed and wide awake, in a puddle that felt like the ocean. Perhaps you didn’t even know each other well. I was a child, and you were women; grown,...
November 2009
1 post
I catch myself...
…looking at old pictures once in a while. Particularly, pictures of myself. Why is it interesting to see pictures of your own body and face? I feel so stupid, but I’m curious as to why I’m so curious about printed versions of my real memories (or lack thereof), standing next to friends, old lovers, landmarks, or nothing in particular There is only one answer I’ve been...
October 2009
7 posts
I find myself judging,
…being judged, or assuming judgment on an hourly basis. I hope I am not alone in this, but I cannot see how, if not in awareness but constant consciousness of it. The other day I was sitting outside of the MCA having a smoke and thinking about how bad I am at art, when I realized people were looking at me like I was lost. I imagined what was being said about my appearance, what I wore,...
There are certain obsessions
…that fill us, take us over, and we become them. We are all possessed to some degree; a hobby, a song, a film, a friend, a lover. We are capable to love (or hate) so deeply that we can become products of our loves and hatreds, or become living symbiotic embodiments of our passions. Maybe thats what defines this life? Not it’s purpose, I wouldn’t bother searching for that, but...
I have bugs crawling all over me.
They’ve invaded the sanctity of my home. They hide in the seams of my jacket and the insoles of my shoes, and turn every simple breeze into a wave of goosebumps down my back, but I can’t brush them off. I cannot become clean. I am an unwilling host, irked beyond all concept of comfort until every part of me feels the sterilizing caress of flame to burn off my impurities, and singe...
September 2009
11 posts
I'm so tired.
I work too much to be as creative and prolific as I wish I could be. Too much to be happy. That natural order is upside down. I am taught to believe that I cannot exist without society, not without license nor passport nor the national census. I am taught I need a job, I need to produce, I need to consume. Despite these teachings, right now I am an indoor cat, held captive for my own health...
I wanted to expound
…on an ethical dilemma of mine. So, I wait tables at a nice restaurant here in Chicago. It’s great money, lots of good people there, but shitty hours. The real problem is, I’m vegan. Waiting tables. At a rib joint. Let me explain the ridiculousness of this. Not only am I a real indicator of how fucked up this economy is that I have to hawk one of the only things on this...
Once I was eating some fried rice...
…down at my favorite chinese joint in Orlando with some old friends. My friend Kelly got some kind of soup I’ve never had before that looked like it was made from eyeballs and dogshit. Apparently it tasted as bad as it looked, and she kept trying to make it tolerable by adding every spice and condiment that was within reach. Soy sauce, chili sauce, that spicy vinegar shit, salt, and...
Sometimes, I have
…a really un-backable and illegitimate hatred of foreign languages. I love travel, I love learning new languages and ways to communicate, and I love being isolated and out of my element. But, what’s wrong with me when I secretly think someone, or almost everyone who is talking in a different language has something bad to say about me? As if everyone keeps the same joke rolling...
Flying over cities on a clear night,
…street lights cluster together to look like vast, distant galaxies; a mirror of the cosmos above them, almost mockingly. Just as in the clear night, no space below is spared of even the faintest twinkle. I feel like I can see the curvature of the earth. I chuckle quietly to myself, catching my imagination now wondering looking down just as curiously as i usually wonder looking up. Where...
August 2009
9 posts
Proser goes to Tokyo
Proser: Sumimasen, Tokyo ni iki tai no desuga. Densha wa doko desu ka?
Information Booth Lady: It's over there, just follow the signs. They're in English.
Proser: Shit. Oh, uh, thanks. (Shit.)
I've never been in a good, solid bar fight.
…I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of quick little scraps, but never an all-out slugfest or wrestling match with bottles and chairs flying everywhere. I’ve come to terms with this, and the fact that were I to get in an extended altercation, I’d probably lose. But, I do enjoy watching a good fight, and live vicariously through whomever is winning (losing?). I enjoy it so...
I found a wallet
…in the street, on some cold december evening on my way to get a pack of smokes at the pharmacy. I tried to turn it in to a cop who was trying to warm up in his car in the parking lot. I knocked on the window, and he brushed me off and told me to go talk to his partner inside. Fucking Chicago. I went inside and spoke to the on-duty officer. It was a small, dark brown, trifold leather...
I love to watch people running down the street,
…especially so if they’re not exercising, but in a hurry to get somewhere; sans-spandex, ipod, and proper footwear. It’s always such a fascinating and ridiculous spectacle — flapping their arms, bags flying everywhere, the thick, loud stomps of dress shoes on pavement, the pungent smell of cologne and deodorant mixing with the stressed smell of missing an important...
drinkdream/createcomplete
I always save the best jelly beans for last. I just suffer through the black licorice and others until I can eat the purple grape ones. I enjoy it because it makes the grapes taste even better, but the first half of my jelly bean eating experience tastes like work. I realize I do this for a lot of things in food; eating all the cereal bits before I eat the marshmallows, saving the most whole...
“pros⋅er [proh-zer]
–noun
1. a person who talks or writes in prose.
2. a...”
– http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/proser