AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Love Story DATE: 11/04/2005 01:25:00 PM ----- BODY:
Woman: Just tell me. Man: You know the 98% of me that's ape? Woman: What did you do? Man: I'm the 2%! The ape fucked up! Woman: You cheated on me? Oh my god! I can't believe that you cheated on me! Man: Cheated? No, no, no. No, I would never cheat on you! The woman was now visibly relieved. Man: I'm in love with someone else though, and we have to break up.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Talking Points DATE: 10/26/2005 09:12:00 PM ----- BODY:
GOVERNMENT EVOLUTION DEATH THE ARTS HEALTH
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Changes DATE: 10/18/2005 09:08:00 PM ----- BODY:
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: I Attended A Conference This Weekenad DATE: 10/17/2005 11:24:00 AM ----- BODY:
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Slightly Dystopic Future DATE: 10/17/2005 10:46:00 AM ----- BODY:
"Which DVD Standard is right for me?" "Teacher's sick. We're mostly teaching ourselves now. I'm ten and take care of kindergarten. I learn from my older sister because Mom and Dad forgot how to read." "Another home run. Gosh, I guess that means steak for dinner again. I feel sorry for all the poor kids who strike out all the time."
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Talking Points DATE: 10/17/2005 10:31:00 AM ----- BODY:
ANIMAL RIGHTS RELIGION SEX POVERTY WOMEN
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Wednesday Morning Roundup DATE: 10/05/2005 12:37:00 PM ----- BODY:
If my "boo" was ever incarcerated (inventing sources for a term paper, stealing the answer key for a big test, etc) the thing I would miss most about our relationship would be photographs of us, the preeminent happy couple, beyond the confines of jailhouse walls; there is just something so dull about prison visiting rooms. Sure, you could close your teary eyes and imagine hugging your jailbird in a ski lodge or a gazebo, but you might have to keep them shut for anywhere from five to twenty years! Now there's a solution! If you have no loved ones behind bars maybe first you should get a prison pen pal first. EMOTIONAL PAIN "Then one day I read 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus' and it was like a fog lifting from inside my head."
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: A Lot Hasn't Changed In The Last Hundred Or So Years. DATE: 9/18/2005 09:57:00 PM ----- BODY:
NOTHING IS DIFFERENT If all you read is mainstream press (Or even worse, you get all of your "news" from television!) you might be of the impression that a lot has changed in the last century. While there have been minor improvements (The innovations of Louis Pasteur come to mind.) and some entertaining distractions (The industrial revolution, Where's Waldo?, et al.) during the last hundred years, for the most part life is still as dreary and arbitrarily brutal as when we lived in trees.

FOR INSTANCE Tomorrow morning I will wake up and shave faster and more efficiently then my parents or grandparents could ever dream. I will drive my car to my loveless job. My dad had to walk to his job; my grandfather had to crawl to his, with my grandmother on his back. At my job, I'll suck my bosses dick for a few hours, and then maybe have mine sucked by this or that underling.

-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Secret Societies, What Do They Want? DATE: 9/15/2005 05:37:00 PM ----- BODY:
CONTROL FREAKS? Two-thirds of adult male humans believe that secret societies in some capacity control every aspect of society; aspects as disparate as the weather or the cost of milk. Members of secret societies generally live forever. Secret societies have been around for nearly as long as regular societies; all the way back to the caveman-era! It is believed by scientists that secret societies began when someone from the future told someone else from the past "Ooga-booga, something is eating the moon or sun." Nothing, of course was eating anything in the sky, but try explaining that (or the complexities of time-travel) to a caveman. Why don't we see evidence of secret societies if they've been for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years? It is probably because Americans, in their chicken-with-its-head-cut-off search for their fifteen minutes of fame, have very short attention spans. (*Secret societies are usually helped out by aliens in their quest for eternal life.)
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Small Life DATE: 3/31/2005 09:06:00 AM ----- BODY:
I never collected dolls growing up (that's more of a lament than a brag), but I've always been into miniatures. Who doesn't appreciate the proxy luxuriousness of beautiful miniature silver and glassware? You don't know how to ski, but own a pair anyhow! What do you get for the doll with everything? A miniature Big Mouth Billy Bass!!! P.S. - My foot really, really hurts...so please be nice to me, because I can't help the way I walk!
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Hard Pour DATE: 3/27/2005 03:17:00 PM ----- BODY:
After their game against North Carolina on Friday, my new favorite college basketball team is the Villanova Wildcats. My new favorite college basketball player is Kyle Lowry. Also, from a TIME.com article on Terri Schiavo: 1990 Terri Schiavo suffers brain damage during cardiac arrest, a result of a potassium imbalance that may have been caused by her suspected bulimia. She emerges from her coma but does not regain consciousness. A Florida court appoints her husband Michael guardian. Woah, Terri Schiavo was bulimic???
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: In Like A Lion DATE: 3/01/2005 06:28:00 AM ----- BODY:
This morning I was leaving my girlfriend's house and accidentally walked in front of some old polish man shoveling snow. He was wearing an extra-long Oakland (or Los Angeles, depending) Raiders parka, and my actions forced him to hold the snow in the shovel a few seconds longer than he probably would have normally. He called me an asshole and when I apologized sincerely he gave me the middle finger. I am not comfortable knowing my taxes help support jerks like this in their old age.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: I'm Sick DATE: 2/23/2005 12:25:00 PM ----- BODY:
My first experience with synchronicity was Christmas, 1986. My brother and I were laying in front of the fire place listening to a boombox, wishing Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name" would come on the radio. A minute later it did! This probably doesn't count as synchronicity since it was an extremely popular song at the time.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: What I Thought Of At Work Today DATE: 1/13/2005 03:12:00 PM ----- BODY:
Why's it always raining on Usher? Hating on hipsters is like black-on-black crime.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Meet Me At The OTB DATE: 12/29/2004 11:23:00 AM ----- BODY:
I want to double this Christmas money. Fast.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: My City Was Gone DATE: 12/26/2004 02:53:00 PM ----- BODY:
There's a NASCAR store in the mall here now. Jared said "this whole town looks like a hockey game just let out."
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Click Here To See Proof I Exist DATE: 12/14/2004 01:03:00 PM ----- BODY:
Last night at a bar I saw something that really upset me. It wasn't seeing the tall guy an ex-girlfriend cheated on me with, or seeing this same guy making out with some dirty (literally) girl like the ship was going down. It also wasn't the Three Stooges antics of The Tenessee Titans on Monday Night Football. (Down by four, with fourteen seconds left in the fourth quarter, and one time out remaining, the Titans attempted a hook-and-ladder play but fumbled, surrendering a final, humiliating touchdown to the Chiefs.) Nope. It was the three people hogging the video game table; snorting lines of cocaine off of it and playing nothing but Galaga, when they could have been playing Ms. Pac Man. I'm not going to give a lecture on the negative aspects of cocaine. I do it occasionally, and though I'm glad minutes aren't kept at these meetings, I see its appeal. But it was Monday night. A Monday night in Greenpoint. Fuck Galaga too.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Shitty Book DATE: 12/12/2004 06:48:00 PM ----- BODY:
I just finished "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" by Chuck Klosterman, a senior writer at Spin magazine, a magazine no one should bother with. His writing style is called "associative," which I guess means he compares one thing to something else and makes incongruous references to bands and songs that are meaningful to him. In an essay about the video game "The Sims" he unnecessarily quotes lyrics from the Talking Heads song "Once In A Lifetime." He reminds me of me when I was younger. He also has a fixation on being the crazy or weird one of his friends. Apparently he dated a girl once, and everyone compared them to Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen (he somehow doesn't notice they're actually being compared to make believe). This is a picture of Chuck Klosterman: That man has never woke from a drug binge in a blood soaked hotel room. He couldn't play the part convincingly in a movie either.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: The Sound Of Being Buzzed Into An Exclusive Party In A Great Apartment In A Cool Part Of Town DATE: 11/21/2004 03:32:00 PM ----- BODY:
Weekend Re-Cap:

I think Jared from Subway is gaining confidence as an actor / spokesperson. He is undoubtedly more assured of himself in front of the camera and now seems less grateful towards Subway than angry at McDonalds.

You don't see those black twins in Subway commercials anymore. I wonder if they got fat again.

I don't get to see the Eagles game today. Instead I get Eli Manning's debut for the Giants. It's been a pretty sloppy game.

Someone needs to reclaim the word "space" from dirty art-school kids. (I'm a relatively clean art-school kid.) Last night I went to a show at one such "space" in Bushwick. There was a sign on the door that said "No outside alcohol. Throw it out, or drink somewhere else." I do not think it is okay to ban outside alcohol while running an illegal bar. If I'm paying $5 to get in, and $3 for beer in cans, and I can't bring in my own alcohol...what's the difference between your alternative "space" and some real club?

Overheard in Williamsburg:

"That place is so Williamsburg." (Three girls leaving "The Read" while a jazz band was playing. I don't know if they're right or wrong.)
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: An Open Letter To Umbrella Carriers Of New York City. DATE: 11/12/2004 12:40:00 PM ----- BODY:
Seriously, try to be more careful. Especially you tiny women carrying those huge umbrellas that are better suited for ducks to bath in.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: No Camera, No Cry DATE: 11/09/2004 05:04:00 PM ----- BODY:
On Sunday I played four square with some friends at Dupont park. Two kids joined us. One kid said he needed anger-management, but he seemed relatively well behaved. It all reminded me of my teaching days in Austin, except I was cursing a lot because I really wanted these kids to like me.

Yesterday I saw "Sideways" which I thought was totally great.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: N/A DATE: 11/03/2004 08:46:00 AM ----- BODY:
Crowds not catching stage-divers is the new slipping on a banana peel.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: A Million Whining Princesses And Superheros. DATE: 10/31/2004 08:27:00 PM ----- BODY:
Yesterday I was shopping on Broadway, waiting in a large crowd to cross Canal (I can't think of an intersection I like less), and like ten to twenty black dudes carrying suitcases bumrush through us, heading west on Canal. A woman behind me was knocked over and her glasses went flying. It took three of us to pick her up.

Today I hit Central Park and The Natural History Museum with Mark. The museum was littered with candy wrappers.

Good News. In three days it will be November 3rd. Phew.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: I'll Charge It To My AmEx Blue DATE: 10/28/2004 02:19:00 AM ----- BODY:
More shit to add to that long list of things I don't like, but everyone I know loves. The Snoop "Drop It Like It's Hot" song. That limp-dicked hook. That tired Neptunes beat with the tongue clicks. I do a funny impression of the song where I say "Drop It Like It's A Hot Potato" and do a little hot potato dance. It looks kind of like that dance Ashlee Simpson did on Saturday Night Live.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: The Secret Of My Success DATE: 10/25/2004 08:10:00 PM ----- BODY:
How come gay guys get to call everything retarded, but I can't call everything gay like I want to?

The season premiere of "The Swan" is tonight. I guess one person's nightmare of waking up and not recognizing themselves in the mirror is another person's dream come true! It just started and the hostess said "ugly ducklings." I have to go.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Language Hang-Ups DATE: 10/23/2004 06:04:00 PM ----- BODY:
Last night I got high, and in an eleventh hour fit of paranoia, for just a second, I thought Linus from "Peanuts" would be a good halloween costume. I would have to suck my thumb and carry a blanket though. Plus it's gay.

I downloaded Grafield: The Movie, but it's in French. Whenever Garfield addresses John, he says "John John."

Animals will subject themselves to great humiliation for food. The other night on Leno I saw a sea lion pretend to be a seal. If I ever need anything balanced on a sea lion's nose, it would only cost me three or four fish.
-------- AUTHOR: Stephen TITLE: Last Night's Dream DATE: 10/17/2004 11:01:00 AM ----- BODY:
I was running around a store that was half an Apple Store and half a Banana Republic. Everyone in the store was dressed the same; black slacks or skirt and some variation of grey top.

I ran into my friend Thunder Dan (a real person I went to college with and a staple of Vice magazine) who was dressed unlike anyone else in the store; like a hippy.

"Hey," he said "my friend needs a webpage. Nothing major. Three pages and a JPEG."
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