Anonymous asked: i saw this movie dont go into the woods. and its basically a horror movie musical. its so great. have you seen it?
I haven’t, but after seeing that Vincent D’Onofrio directed it, I’m adding it to my queue. I’m a big horror/sci-fi person. I just watched In Fear last night, and can’t wait for Under the Skin to come on demand.
Anyone have any good horror-movie stories? When Child’s Play 2 came out, I think I was about 5 years old …huge advertisement for it on the way to/from my grandparents house. I used to cover my face with a Super Mario Bros blanket for the whole ride, asking if we’d passed the billboard over and over. When they finally took it down, my relief was short-lived as, in a matter of months, the same billboard became a giant poster in the Blockbuster Video down the street. After seeing it and promptly shitting, I didn’t go with my mom to pick out movies to rent for almost a year. Just waited in the car.
Anonymous asked: hey dude. you're pretty rad.
oh hai, anon. thanks! lets do a q&a here - that’d be rad. anyone have Atticus: Dragging the Lake? Anyone recently see any cool horror movies? what’s happening Tumblr? Is poetry dead?
hey - so first of all, RIP Ultimate Warrior. Second, this is a poem about how much I used to love compliation CDs and the movie Empire Records
Watching Saturday Night Live.
She tells me that she misses Heath Ledger
and sings “Sugar High” from Empire
Records. There are never enough people
in the world that know the best songs word-
for-word. We want to cope with our dreams,
but we’re too busy robbing HomeGoods-
matching our apartment’s color scheme.
I whisper through a cigarette that I’ll feel
fragile until the end like the window on
New Year’s that broke when I snuck
that liquor in. Wasn’t that another life-
when adrenaline gave meaning to every
vice. Now I’m thirty and sleep has
started hurting, but they got my number
so I’ll autopay the price. I write her name
in frosting, even years after she left. Funny
how fleeting it is to be sugar high again.
Here’s a trailer for The Mega, my brand new book coming out so soon. Music is “Twin Sized Mattress” by The Front Bottoms
On the day your sister got married,
I got fired via email. As she walked
down the aisle, arm-in-arm with
your father, I felt like every plush
animal that has ever slept alone.
The worth of a thousand dollars
is buried in Sleepy Hollow-
Just a headstone with
one date: May 10th, 2008. It
never died or quite lived, just
looked with spotted vision at
a generation through the dirt.
An Iron Chef prepares my lunch-
I recognize him from TV. As long
as I have stories, my parents stay
proud of me. So I told myself the
tallest story of them all - it was
about a loser, inflated with cement,
who saw the world in moments
before crashing down again.
C-Town on 12th Street.
The devil pushed a cart through C-Town,
admiring all the ways to die. And at the
self-checkout he scanned every other item-
a generous penny-pinching lie. The parking
lot seagulls picked at fortunate rot, as they
churned in a flock thick enough to block
the last dusk in Newark. The world revolves
in a circle of drug-store caps, hitting the
hammer and pretending to pass, just a few
gurgles and child’s hand on a chest. So we
are concave, incapable of seeing the end.
They talk about C-Town around piles still
blazing long after the news vans deemed
it a story worth chasing. And the seagulls
still look for a handout of filth, just untainted
pieces for a mouthful of wealth. The devil
returned to his seat far below, with a bag of
six souls, though he only scanned four.
A Short Stint in the City
I’m stuck reading back issues of The Source and wishing I was born in 1982. The only golden years are the years you miss because you’re getting handjobs at the town pool. And sometimes the high dive leaves you a hero of youth and sometimes it leaves you paralyzed too.
The Pontiac broke down after ten years of service, three sound systems, and one too-high speed bump in the Burger King drive-thru. No one will suffer like us, or at least that’s how it felt when we junked it in June.
And kings always come back, dead or alive. So we left for video-game cities, controlling disasters with clicks and sixteen-bit design. I was talking to a stranger about what makes people so cruel, and he told me “That is a lifetime of pain wrapped in years, or days or, in one case, just an afternoon.”
My First Paycheck
Someone spray painted “legalize everything”
across the bridge I pass over every morning
on the train. A brand ambassador tweets
that he has racist thoughts when he’s alone.
So we drag him through the mud and
kick him out of our loving homes. The PR firm
that pays me roughly every fifteen days
asks me to draft a release that starts,
"People don’t always mean what they say."
My words are breaking news and people
call it an apology for the ages. If only they
knew it was written by a kid living in a
Brooklyn basement. Years ago, I had a
dream while I slept in my college’s radio
station. I was a spore without direction.
What a feeling to be carried miles
between feathers on a wing, or walked
through a metropolis between arm hair
and young skin. I awoke with all the same
aches, in my back and down my legs- the
same gut I had neglected thinking there
must be more important things. I wrote
"legalize everything" on my square cap
with masking tape. Never thinking that
reminders could still find me on the train.
a poem I wrote about trying to get home on the PATH train and all the weird things I think about while “commuting”