Saturday, April 19, 2014
I slept on benches in the Bronx. My little sister had one shitty job and was supporting my Florida runaway ass. My older sister kept the peace with the landlord that gave us a single room to sleep in. I lived off a vitamin pill and a quart of milk a day.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Yes, but I’m worried I will leave grad school and no longer be able to speak English. I know this woman in grad school, a friend of a friend, and just listening to her talk is scary. The semiotic dialectics of intertextual modernity. Which makes no sense at all.

Chimamanda Ngozi Abichie, Americanah (2013)

And later, unrelated to the above:

She had told Blaine about it later, and there was an impatience in her tone, almost an accusation, as she added that academics were not intellectuals; they were not curious, they built their stolid tents of specialized knowledge and stayed securely in them.

(via screwrocknroll)

Thursday, April 17, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014

brevetcaptain said: Truth washed down with a locally sourced IPA.


Tuesday, April 15, 2014

endlesslyunamusing said: sounds like you’ve been drinking too much blood-orange haterade

I can live with that. Brooklyn is just down the drink. The children of the one percent can be very grating.

The modern hipster is just a suburban yuppie in disguise. All bourgeois taste is based on the idea that one is in touch with regular folks, say with Pabst and bacon, but also more knowledgeable and selective in terms of refinement and nutrition, so kimchi and kombucha. It is lower class cultural appropriation reinvented as a “serious” palate. Pickles can’t be pickles, they have to be artisinal and flavored in some way that feels sophisticated, like cayenne and habanero. Donuts can’t be donuts, they must reflect individual rarefied tastes, such as matcha green tea. The whole thing is designed to show off that you only consume the “best” and most “natural” foods, while still retaining the common touch. Suburban yuppies are ostentatious about their food pretensions, hipsters attempt to cover theirs with tattoos, spectacles “irony” and, above all “quirkiness.”


original post
Friday, April 11, 2014
My biggest fear is that people may come to view my work as too solid and not complex enough in aesthetic and concept to be pursued or explored any further than what it is. It’s worse than failing. It’s so dismissive and restricting. To not be good enough nor to aspire high enough. It’s like a dagger to your pride. But it hurts more because in your mind you know.. You know your work means so much more. TO (Studio notes. Written: 13 December 2013)

NYC in 2014 was the Coolest!

I keep seeing these photos of New York in the 70s and 80s and even the early 90s. Sure, that’s cool, but it is nothing like New York in the early 20-teens. I’m posting pictures of my favorite New York hotspots in those crazy days and wow, was New York really so cool all those years ago? Here is one of my favorites!


Here’s the TD Waterhouse where I first fell in love with the city! In those days you had to be in bank gang, whether it was Chase or Bank of America, that was your gang. It was rough in those days, like when you saw someone from your rival bank, you totally had to not breakdance or anything to show your pride in your bank. That was when New York was cool and banks were everywhere and you never knew how much money you were going to get out until you pressed the buttons! My friends and I used to not get dressed up and just spontaneously go out to a bank and not dance. We would listen to the coolest live bands not there. Sometimes the bank was closed and we used the ATM and felt like real New Yorkers! It was wild. Kids today would never understand.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014

It’s unnerving when a character on TV or in movies is named Clint. It’s a rare enough name to not have an involuntary reaction.

Friday, April 4, 2014

spokemnemosyne said: the cock and the fury, the great cocksby, a moveable cock, house of cocks, cock of darkness, the lord of the cocks, the lord of the cocks, all the pretty cocks, cock meridian, cock and punishment, bag of cocks, in cold cock, cock of a salesman

Pfft! Show off.

Some would say poetry is sound sex first and foremost, not dribbling deep thoughts about your feelings the night you fondled Betty’s tits, but my penis is irrefutable.

Thursday, April 3, 2014



This is the first copy of the first-ever print edition of A Literation right here. How do I know I have the first copy? Easy: this is the one and only proof copy. Yes, we pushed the print edition out before first reviewing the proof. We are daring and reckless. Well, Matt is anyway.

I’m pleased to report the print is immaculate, except that all pages except these two are upside down.*

*This is a lie. It’s gorgeous. All except the glaring typo on page 11.**

**I’m kidding. There’s no typo on page 11, glaring or otherwise. I’m just taking the opportunity to make Matt freak out coz I’m an asshole like that.

Buy your own here, presently discounted 15%.