The function of blind dates

What does?

I am the hours

Our god is an awkward god…

Blargh

I don’t condone this at all, but it’s getting late, I haven’t posted in a couple of days, and I don’t have any drawings on hand. So here’s some poems I wrote.

Imagine two people, lost.
One has a map gripped tightly in his hand.
He looks at it
slowly
shaking his head, fearing
that he will never see anyone else again.
He peers out in all directions
looking constantly back to the map
forming a rough parallel
line to ground
line to ground.
He sets off
his direction weak
anything too difficult and he changes course
a map works only so well
it might indicate contour intervals
but it says nothing of fallen trees or
bears.
For these he must adapt
move
he searches for a hint, perhaps of
main street parades
or abandoned plastics. Anything.
He’ll find his way, eventually
exhausted and bruised
braced to tell everyone of his ordeal
again
again
again
again
he won’t know to relish the first hour
when he’s given a cool room
and some time
to recover.

The other flops down in the shade.

---

Giants are thick-skinned, it’s true;
the laws of evolution demand it.
Being of such momentous dimensions,
the world seems to them a relatively small space
(in contrast to you or I
[at least I]).
As a result, they are not afforded the luxury of
picking a climate,
as they live in many at the same time.
Their feet in the desert sand, their nose frosted
slightly above the tree line
they don’t notice a few changes in degree,
unlike say a dog in the summer or a whisper in cold air.
If they did, they would be entirely uncomfortable
all of the time.
But say something mean,
especially in the morning
when the sun is sliding down their face,
and you’ll see boulderous tears
that will flood you away
because giants
are sensitive
and rarely carry
tissue.

For now

“Interstice” is my favorite word in English.

I am… simply… a man

It almost makes you want to buy a thresher.

Reed Cowan, you are a silly

Stop what you’re doing. It’s pointless. Not even this hard-hitting report from Salt Lake City’s ABC 4 will save us now. Our youth, they have become… emo.

How to ruin summer fun

You see you

I’ll be in Chicago for the weekend.

So, once I was at a concert, and I thought I saw myself. Like, I saw a guy who my brain said “that’s me!” and then I realized that I couldn’t be seeing myself. Then tonight I was watching a movie with a general public scene and that I saw myself again, despite its being made in the early 80s. Purple Rain, fantastic flick. The more I think about it, the more I start to wonder: what makes me so sure I know what I look like?