A&C from the HoA

Just got back from seeing Snakes on a Plane with Clarisse. Freaking ridiculous. Speaking of which, would you please look at this excellent SoaP tribute mobile made by our resident hot Brazilian for our resident hot Holly:


















(mobility in action!)




















I made the birthday girl these Star Trek saint candles.
Gracias, Tienda Mexicana de Carrboro.


















Spock-Jesus cracks me the hell up.

I know it's early, but...

me upon my pony on my boat

I am writing a blog entry in a coffee shop. I am wearing cowboy boots and I am a hipster nightmare. Sorry everybody.

Here is a secret thing about me:

I really like to read the Missed Connections section in the paper. I intensely want to see myself described as a missed connection. This is why I hang out in idiot coffee shops. This is why I make eye contact with strangers on the bus. I want someone to fall in love with me so hard that they are compelled to write to the Independent Weekly about it. That’s it.

Stranger love is the very best kind.

I feel like writing about this sort of thing right now, so I’m just going to go with it.

I like the little rituals involved when you meet someone new. I like waking up in the morning to find that when he sleeps you can nearly see in his calm face what he looked like as a kid. When he takes a deep breath there is a ripple on the surface and for a second you can picture him much, much older. I like the careful inventory of scars and tattoos, mapping out freckle constellations, reading skin. I like that in the beginning you can imagine anything, anything at all, and it’ll be all right, it’ll be all right no matter what happens.

It always surprises me when I discover that I am perfectly happy exactly where I am.

cults & spore-babies

Today I may have joined a cult. This is not the worst thing that has happened this weekend.

The worst thing would be how I managed to sabotage several relationships, which I pretty much do now-days like it’s my jorb. That or how I drunkenly burned all the skin off of the roof of my mouth. This makes eating Pringles very uncomfortable. SO IT IS A TOSS UP.

The worst thing about the cult is not how it cost me $500. (This is a terrible thing, but it is not the worst thing.) The worst thing would be how it is a SELF-ACTUALIZATION cult. They are going to tell me I should be in a fulfilling relationship. We are going to talk about feelings.

I don’t think I want to be in a fulfilling relationship. I really don’t.

Seriously. If I could reproduce asexually I would. Like a mushroom. I would spore out some little bebes and we’d live happily ever after in our little fulfilling fairy ring.

Really fulfilling fairy ring.

That’s chiastic cynghanedd.

Foo!