Posts from the ‘Maryland’ Category
Today I tried to fill my bucket with positive things. But when I dragged it out from underneath the sink, there was already shit in it.
It takes several years to get ready. A few months to get set. And ready comes before you know it.
One day we’re going to come back to this moment and realize it didn’t matter one fucking bit.
Three years went by, and I can’t really remember any of it.
Takoma Park, MD.
Takoma Park, MD
When I was younger, some of the lessons I learned from my father still stick with me today. Here are some of them, in no particular order:
-Avoid touching anything with your hands in a public bathroom. If for some stupid reason you have to poop in a public toilet, use your foot to flush. If you’re at a urinal, use your elbow, or just leave the damn thing unflushed and walk away quickly;
-There is absolutely no reason to talk with a stranger while at a public urinal. In fact, there’s no reason to talk with anyone in a public restroom or to make eye contact with anyone. Get in and get the fuck out as quickly as possible;
-You should always look both ways when crossing the street, even when you’re in the crosswalk. In an argument with a car, you will always lose. No point being right if you’re dead;
-If a woman tells you you’re “mysterious looking,” it means that she either thinks you’re good-looking or she’s just trying to tell you you’re ugly in a polite way. And there’s no way to tell the difference, even if she’s smiling;
-Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, look into a woman’s purse without her express permission. And even then, avoid it at all costs. It’s a trap.
“In one or more parallel universes, there is a a plastic trash can version of myself in a suburban granola crunching enclave of Maryland. I receive messages from it daily, but I don’t fully understand what it’s trying to tell me. Every message starts with, ‘Tomorrow is the day.” And then after that, it repeats a whole string of numbers, starting with 63 and ending in 2,351.”
Admiral Ving Ving
The Spaceship Diaries of Admiral Ving Ving
‘A couple nights ago I met up with Lenny at Mark’s Diner. He’s an old friend from high school, and I hadn’t seen him since then. That was over twenty years ago, like when Pearl Jam came out with Ten.
He had called me out of the blue. I don’t know how he got my cellphone but nowadays everything is online. He said something like, “Hey man, I saw you were in town. You want to meet up for dinner and catch up?”
So we’re at the diner and he’s eating the bi bim bop with his hands. There’s beef juice and egg yolk running down his hands and onto his forearms. He says that’s how they really do it in Korea. I’ve never been to Korea so I say, “Is that so?” And then he talks about how he went to Korea after high school, started teaching English, and then married a “nice Korean woman with good values.”
“How does she like the U.S.?” I ask.
“She hates it,” he says.
There’s an awkward silence, and I stab at my udon soup with my wooden chopsticks. I wonder how long it would take for the chopstick to absorb some of the broth.’
The Dog Man Journals by GM Drogba
“Every man needs his own chair. His chair is not connected to any other chair, and has armrests and a retractable footrest, either electronic or manual. A man’s chair needs to be separated by at least eight feet of space from all sides. No one other than the man, except for the dog or the cat, can sit in the man’s chair. This rule applies even when the man is not in the room. The man’s chair is not required to match with the other furniture as a precondition for its existence. . .”
Hon. Craig Litbee, during the opening submission of the Progression of Situations Act of the Umb Congress of the Republic West. 1973.
e v e r y d a y aperture 