A Man Taps A Microphone

I told myself I wasn't going to post anything here until I had something to post but I wanted a certain someone to know that I had been here. Maybe that someone is you, reader. Perhaps at the time that this was being typed out you were the face I saw, leaned in slightly towards the dim welkin glow of the computer screen. Wondering what crazy looney toon wrote this cryptic nonsense. The truth is, it was, ME!

Guess who is coming to dinner ...

I don't want to say that I am coming of age in a society that deems, nay, DEMANDS, a certain social finesse that a monkey with a wrench and a pocket knife could manage ... but I'll go ahead and say, while pressing my nose, that Narcissus was one attractive bastard. Where is my mirror?

OH! Guess how much I don't care about the new iPhone. No, go ahead, guess. Rhymes with ... zero. Or Juniper berries. Yes. Lots of berries.

I'll make the claim later, but not now because you'll (the adoring public), be forced into some sort of tizzy, that art is nothing more than a pile of trash on which we can all wash our private parts and be happy that someone just paid $6 million for a display. Oh. And that it makes us happy. I don't know which one comes first.

Waiting for the fall down

I am waiting. I want to fall down to practice.

Most of us are. This is our life. To sit high in our seats, and watch the sun trip high overhead, and wonder, wonder, what it must be like.

I waited for 25 minutes for the damn bus tonight. I waited. Bless you CTA.

I also learned, via the helpful diagram on top, that the best way to fall is to just go limp. NyMag proves most helpful in the falling category, female or otherwise.

So really, Chicagoans, the real lesson, and I press my nose while I say this, is to throw a New Yorker on the ground and laugh as they struggle with all of their bags. Suck on those mid-western apples, New York.

Or something something, learn from waiting and falling blah blah blah. Do I look like I have time for this crap?

Starting

To all beginnings there must be death.