• Weltschmerz Doorbuster

    I remember you. I took you in when you didn’t want me to. Shelter from the riders on the storm. But it seems now my tourniquets are deadly. Feel too much you don’t want to feel anything, staunch the wound and the poison too, keep all that sickness inside.

  • Good Night, Sweet Boy

    I consider the calculus, how many steps to the stage, the likelihood of distraction with all the crowd smells and ground noms, what if someone careens into the aisle right on top of him?

  • New Orleans!

    My last and only time in the Crescent City, I was 20, a roadtrip pilgrimage to goth Mecca with Anna and Bennett to poke through cemeteries, corset shops and dance floors, adamant we had no interest in stalking Anne Rice.

  • I said yes

    In June 2011 I said yes when Bree cajoled me into coming to the Twin Cities Improv Fest afterparty, like we were the cool kids, not superfan creepers.

  • Leaf Peepin

    October saw us on aeroplanes herk-jerkin to Boston that chewed us up in traffic and spit us out on 93. It was dark and stormy when we reached our destination—a New Hampshire cabin owned by Arthur’s aunt and uncle.

  • Horse of a Different Color

    But I didn’t want to just wave, carry a sign, trailing behind. I briefly entertained being a flying monkey but remembered hm, I have that horse head mask… of course! THE HORSE OF A DIFFERENT COLOR!

  • weeding wonder

    I’m doing grubby pulls, the grossest of the gross, a final sweep before we RFID everything. Get those torn, ragged, stained, worn smokers’ home monstrosities off the shelf.

  • Big Bend and Marfa

    We wanted to camp in Big Bend and return to the McDonald Observatory. See the heavens through giant telescopes, through our naked eyes, tiny orbs in the galaxy and the Marfa lights.