so misunderstood

Out with the old

2012-01-04T09:23:00.002-06:00

This url is an artifact. Why not visit lindsayhunter.com? Blessings.

Keeping it Weird 4 Lyfe

2011-04-12T13:07:00.001-05:00

This Thursday I'll be reading for the first time ever in Austin, TX, and yep I just peed a little in excitement. I'll be reading with Dan Boehl, whose new book, Kings of the F**king Sea, is out now!

Can't wait to see Amelia Gray and Mary Miller and Sarah Grainer and my brother/sister in-law and a couple dogs I'mma mash faces with.

And to reenact this picture.

But before all of that, I'm reading and DJing at the Artifice Magazine Dirty South Dance Party tomorrow night. My DJ name is DJ Sensible Shoes. Control your jealousy and admiration, please. Setlist sneak peek here!

Last night I read at the Encyclopedia Show. I really can't say enough about that event - it is always so unique and wonderful, and if you haven't been to one you should make it a point to do so a-sap.

On my walk to the train afterward I passed a house where a band was practicing in the attic. Whoever they were, they were super emo, and I was very moved, okay? I'm not made of stone. Until a gentleman in a butt-length leather jacket walked by and requested Freebird. And then requested it again when there was no reaction. And then again, caterwauling like he was being stabbed and these were his last words.

I believe what I witnessed was the death, finally, of that joke. I feel lucky to have played a part in its demise.

In other news, I have new stories in Annalemma and Wigleaf, journals I have been salivating over for a long time. And I'm excited to have a story in the launch issue of Midwestern Gothic! Such a great premise for a journal and it's awesome to be a part of it. And stories forthcoming in Barrelhouse, trnsfr, and Dark Sky. eeeee!

Mission Creek!

2011-03-22T10:19:00.002-05:00

Quickies! wants you too, Malachai. We want you too!

I'm heading to Iowa City April 1-2 for the Mission Creek Festival. I'll be reading at Prairie Lights Friday night with Tao Lin and Ted Thompson, and then Quickies! is joining the Mission Creek Lit Crawl Saturday at the Dublin Underground. Reading for Quickies! will be:

Jac Jemc
Zach Dodson
Steve Tartaglione
Kyle Beachy
Anthony Luebbert
Aaron Burch
Adam Novy
Amy Butcher
Jill Summers
and Roxane Gay

I am super excited about being a part of Mission Creek! If you're anywhere near the Midwest, or you have a way to steal your stepdad's frequent flyer miles to get you to Iowa City, please just quit puddlin' and do it!

Thinking I might not do any readings in May, maybe.

In other news, I've been feeling like I want to like, wear a leather minidress and stand around in my lover's penthouse apartment holding a glass of chardonnay and watching the sun set and listening to Purple Rain or this amazing fucking song on repeat before just putting my pumps back on and leaving it all behind to start a life without hairspray but with eyeglasses. I'm nostalgic for this made-up memory, is what I'm saying. I'm going to start reading The Bonfire of the Vanities, is what I'm saying.

Anyway. More to come in April. Including my birthday!

Don't percolate

2011-02-08T21:10:00.000-06:00

AWP was fun. I made a righteous ass out of myself, this is good for the ego. To wit: here is video of me putting my mouth on the mic at Vermin on the Mount:

I love Nuvia and Jim a lot and all the readers were sublime.

Somewhere secret there is video of Jac Jemc and I rapping at the Literati Gong Show. I don't know should I be embarrassed or proud, or embarrassed to be proud or proud that I'm embarrassed? Aw man I had a great time. Then I jacked my toe up dancing with the Knee-Jerk boys at the Lit Party but it was worth it. I saw a red panda a slapfight between two males my Jamaican husband the longest escalator this side of earth a cruddy omelet a toddler-sized pizza slice tons of lions but none of them real some velvet pants some glitter drawers the white cloud batting from the other side and a lot of whiskey. So nice to have met you all.

Shall we? Shall we?

We shall.

AWPssssshhhh

2011-02-01T09:54:00.001-06:00

If I make it out of this blizzard I will be performing/reading at the following events:

The Literati Gong Show! (Doing this with Jac Jemc. And maybe we're rapping.)

Vermin on the Mount!

And then of course hanging out at the featherproof table and lauding Miss Gray and Mr. Somerville at the Literature Party.

See you there, and one of us will slip on some barf (maybe mine) and do a really entertaining windmill before landing on the paper-mâché tree next to the Ecotone table? But it's okay, because you wanted to subscribe anyway. Then we'll wear each other's Hammer pants and dap to the death. Can't wait!

we own things.

2010-11-17T13:33:00.001-06:00

The east coast tour was a lot of fun. My dad showed up in Philly and me and Christian traveled separately like eccentric celebrities and I wore a dress once and I saw Elegant Elliot Offen and Amelia Gray’s new middle hair part and talked about Jerry Lee but not enough and my feet got swole and I ate pizza in Brooklyn and I thought Boston was a fun reading but turns out I was wrong and thank you to Gene Kwak and Jonathan Papas and my best friend KP and Sasha and Jason Hafer and KGB and Word and Lorem Ipsum and featherproof and Grace Krilanovich and Amelia Gray and Two Dollar Radio and featherproof and the Tebordo family and featherproof and everyone who came out to see us read, we’re sorry and you’re welcome and we’re sorry.

Speaking of featherproof, Patrick Somerville's book is out! Imma rub my face on it.

And now an accumulation of things I've been wanting to tell you:

I have a story up at Fifty-Two Stories, whoa.
Bitch Magazine reviewed Daddy's!
I recently read from my novel in progress at The Parlor reading series. It felt good, real good.
Richard Thomas reviewed Daddy's for The Nervous Breakdown!
Jesus Angel Garcia reviewed Daddy's and The Museum of the Weird for vol. 1 Brooklyn!
Ryan Bradley interviewed me at Big Other!
I did this with Blake Butler at HTML Giant!
I'm in Nylon's America issue! Here is proof:

That's me at the bottom, squinting into the afterlife. So exciting!

So that's what's been going on lately. I also cut my bangs. I also did deep lunges across my apartment the other morning. I also went to see Lynda Barry speak. It blew my dick off.

Here is a recipe for pancakes: Bisquick and water.

ECFU! Tour info and more!

2010-10-07T11:35:00.000-05:00

I got to interview myself, which was a huge honor, for The Nervous Breakdown. You can find it here.

I also posted a recommended reading list at Recommended Reading. Here it is!

And I went on down to Urbana to read at Aaron Burch's reading series, Stories & Beer, this past Sunday, and Smile Politely had this to say about it. Needless to say, "Lindsay Hunter's prose is loud meat" will be on my tombstone.

And finally, me 'n Christian Tebordo are going on a east coast tour, y'all! Here's the info. We apologize in advance, for everything.

October 22nd

PHILADELPHIA, PA
Tattooed Mom's
530 South St, Philadelphia, PA
7pm

October 23rd
PHOENIXVILLE, PA
Steel City Coffee House
203 Bridge St # 1, Phoenixville, PA
3pm

October 25th
BOSTON, MA
Lorem Ipsum Bookstore
1299 Cambridge Street, Cambridge, MA
7pm, I think

October 24th

NEW YORK CITY
Indie Press Crush Fest w/ Two Dollar Radio
ALSO READING: AMELIA GRAY, GRACE KRILANOVICH
KGB Bar
85 East 4th Street, NYC
7pm

October 26th

BROOKLYN, NY
Indie Press Crush Fest w/ Two Dollar Radio
ALSO READING: AMELIA GRAY, GRACE KRILANOVICH
WORD
126 Franklin Street, Brooklyn
7:30pm

Midwest Tour

2010-08-18T09:49:00.003-05:00

Hey friends,
Here are the dates for the upcoming Midwest tour featuring Aaron Burch, Blake Butler, Amelia Gray, Mary Hamilton, Jac Jemc, and me. Y’all come out and see us (make drunken dickfools of ourselves, but only just before and directly after we read you some truly sweet fictions).

Madison
Friday, August 27
High-Noon Saloon
701A E. Washington Ave.
6 PM

Minneapolis/St. Paul
Saturday, August 28
The Clown Lounge
1601 W University Ave, St. Paul
7 PM

Iowa City
Sunday, August 29
The Mill
120 East Burlington St
7 PM

Chicago
Monday, August 30
DADDY’S BOOK RELEASE PARTY
The Hideout
1354 West Wabansia Ave
7:30 PM

Can't wait. You know?

Presented without comment

2010-08-05T20:50:00.000-05:00

High Emission Tour!

2010-07-26T10:48:00.003-05:00

Starts this weekend.

We need money. We will send you whatever you ask for in return.

Here is the time/venue information:

San Diego:
Saturday, July 31 8pm – 11pm
Vermin on the Mount
with Aaron Burch, Lisa Fugard, Amelia Gray, Jess Jollett, Lindsay Hunter, Enriqu Limón, Adam Novy & Andy Roe
Sushi Performance & Visual Arts
390 Eleventh Ave FREE!

Los Angeles:
Sunday, August 1st 9-11pm
Vermin on the Mount Six-Year Anniversary
with Jillian Lauren, Aaron Burch, Amelia Gray, Lindsay Hunter & Adam Novy
The Mountain Bar
473 Gin Ling Way FREE!

San Francisco:
Tuesday, August 3rd 9pm
The High Emission Book Tour
with Aaron Burch, Amelia Gray, Lindsay Hunter, and Reynard Seifert
Amnesia Bar
853 Valencia St. FREE!
(Then I go back home because I'm reading at the Rec Room, holla)

San Francisco:
Wednesday, August 4th 7:30pm
Random Hookup: Corium + Hobart
with Aaron Burch, Lauren Becker, Amelia Gray, Andrea Kneeland, Greg Gerke, and Adam Novy
The Knockout
3223 Mission at Valencia St FREE!

Sacramento:
Thursday, August 5
Burch & Gray with Flatmancrooked PubQuiz
with Aaron Burch and Amelia Gray
Pangaea Cafe, 7pm FREE!

Tucson:
Wednesday, August 11
Powhaus Productions Presents Lit!
Rialto Theatre, 7pm
with Spork Press
318 E. Congress St. $3

AND. Things are coming together for the Quickies! Midwest tour. I will post info as soon as I have it. So calm down, Mom, and reader who I don't know in the UK.

Here's how happy I am:

Read this. Do that.

2010-07-19T15:03:00.006-05:00

Jason Rice over at Three Guys One Book asked me to write something for their "When We Fell in Love" series. You can find it here. It was really fun to write, but also nervewracking. I didn't want people thinking, "Congratufuckinglations, you read Faulkner." So I decided to get real. I hope you like it.

I am going on a series of mini-tours in the coming weeks. The first (July 31-Aug 3), the High Emission Tour (with Amelia Gray, Aaron Burch, Adam Novy, and more!), takes place on the West Coast, with stops in San Diego and LA for Vermin on the Mount, and then San Francisco (it actually goes to Arizona after that, but I hop off after the first San Fran date).

Holy parentheses.

The next mini-tour is a Midwest tour featuring me, Amelia Gray, Mary Hamilton, Jac Jemc, Blake Butler, Aaron Burch, and others. August 27-August 30. Madison, Minneapolis, Iowa City, Chicago.

Then NYC with Christian Tebordo October 24.

I'll update with specifics as I know more.

Needless to say I am burbling.

We are doing final touches on Daddy's. Brace your balls.

o s t r i c h c r e a m s

2010-06-06T15:59:00.004-05:00

Four people have asked me if I'm pregnant this week. This is like that time all those people told me I looked like Maggie Gyllenhaal and I started wondering if I was Maggie Gyllenhaal, because my mind is way into suggestive hypnosis. Or whatever. But maybe those four people are just, in a polite way, trying to suggest that I stop eating M&M's for breakfast snack lunch snack and dinner. Well. Those people can suck it.

In other news, Wigleaf and Brian Evenson think my story, Finding There (published in Cricket Online Review), is one of the Top 50 Very Short Fictions of 2009. This calls for M&M's!

[Aside: Husband is in the other room playing Wii Mario, and muttering things like "That was really, really dumb. I really hate myself. GAH!" I am laughing through my nose at this, hard, an alarming new trend in my laughstyle.]

And in perhaps the most revealing news I've yet disclosed in 2010, I went to see Sex and the City 2 the other day. Which means I paid to see it, in the theater, surrounded by other people who paid to see it. The more I think about this, the worse I feel. The movie was a pile of deathballs moldering on an altar of rotting meat. It is about women in much of the same authentic way the 90's rap hit "Informer" was about thug life. I still think the entire first 20 minutes of it was a fever dream brought on by M&M's, margaritas, and the mild hysteria clouding my irises that began once I clicked "Buy" on the Fandango website. I kept blinking my eyes, rubbing them, trying to get a purchase on what exactly I was seeing. I experience the same symptoms when I stare at the sun, or when I see Taylor Swift's face.

Anyway. That's what's new. Going to Savannah next week for a one-year anniversary trip. That is, if the husband makes it through the anguish-filled seizure he is currently having in the other room.

P.S. Reading a story about John Wayne Gacy at the Encyclopedia Show this Wednesday. TOO EASY COACH!

Why, Hello There [insert farty laugh]

2010-04-01T14:26:00.005-05:00

Got some updates for you, creepily blogged for you in a 2 inch by 2 inch window from my desk at work.

I recently had a chat with Jason Behrends for What to Wear During an Orange Alert's new podcast series. You can find it here, along with a bunch of other great segments.

You down with AWP? Yeah you know me. I'll be reading here:

And doing something as yet undetermined here:

Come say hi!

I also have some stories forthcoming from some great places, which I'll announce once it's real and in the world and not possibly in one of my Cadbury-induced fever dreams.

Upcomer!

2010-02-23T19:49:00.002-06:00

Friday night I am reading with Kevin Sampsell at the Book Cellar. His book, A Common Pornography, is really good, and you should buy it.

Also, this

2010-02-20T15:05:00.007-06:00

Recently reconnected with this song. The video is pretty much an insane person's manifesto. It tears at the heart strings. My favorite parts are the 32 rescue attempts after Axl jumps into the ocean, the crazy hillbilly-may-care fashions Axl models, and the final 3 seconds. And if anyone can get me a pair of those Axl high tops, I will sleep with you every year on your birthday.

("With all the changing seasons of my life / maybe I'll get it right next time..." Intense cryface. I'm sorry. I'm not made of stone.)

Alright listen up

2010-02-20T14:12:00.005-06:00

Last night, I had a giant beer and no dinner, and then I went to a reading. And then I had a giant goblet of wine. And then my rape-y personality came out in full force. I may have flirted with someone's mother-in-law. I may have professed my love for someone I barely know. I may have made a joke about "cutting in" while people made out. I may have brandished a length of twine and a mallet. Okay not that last thing. But I may as well have.

It was like encountering that warm patch in your neighbor's pool, and in your terror to swim out, you actually swim deeper in. That's basically how I handled the situation - I dove right into that warm patch, mouth open.

All day long, I am surrounded by people I adore and who I can say anything to. I mean anything. No holds barred. It's pretty much constantly a to-the-death competition to out-horrify each other. So when I'm out in social situations that don't involve those people, I act like a goddamned idiot. Okay, maybe that's harsh? More accurately, I come off like BTK mated with Ted Bundy and then hired Marie Noe to raise me, and all she fed me was mini Hershey bars and espresso.

But all of this is to say that, if you encounter me in a public setting, and I start peppering the small talk with "date rape" and "diamond nips" and "Help me carry something to my car," please forgive me, and please change the subject.

Football. I like talking about football.

I'm on the right.

VVRT

2010-02-17T07:14:00.000-06:00

I thought this was Tina Fey. I mean. Isn't it?

Jealous?

2010-02-14T09:38:00.004-06:00

Today I found this Valentine somehow relegated to my Spam folder:

This person gets me. Finally, someone who realizes what a "gentleman" I am. I look forward to meeting up with this person for a hott date where we eat a series of hors d'oeurvres and then sing "Don't go rapin' that prost" a la "Don't go breakin' my heart" at the karaoke bar a couple blocks from my house, after which I am throttled, discarded, and eaten by wolves.

Happy Valentine's Day! xoxxx

Shit Gets Real.

2010-02-09T18:25:00.002-06:00

It's been snowing all day and I snapped this photo before going inside to barf and cry.

I actually really like when something is both horrific and beautiful, as it is in Chicago today. Further examples of beautrific: Alf, baboons, a vagina.

Sorry so Nearly 30

2010-02-06T10:53:00.002-06:00

When I was in high school I wore pants that may have had a crap stain in them from the man who probably died wearing them and shoes the baseball player I was in love with loudly proclaimed made my feet look like "PEANUTS!" I did not have a clever part in my hair and the one time I wore lipstick I found smears of it on my teeth hours later. I also tried to come on to said baseball player by telling him when I grew up (seriously, I used that phrase), I would be a serious hooker nymphomaniac.

All this to say that I've never seen this show. All I've seen are the commercials for it, and they immediately make me want to be dead.

Daddy's

2010-02-04T06:59:00.003-06:00

So, I have a book coming out in September, a collection of flash fiction (or "slim fictions," as I'm partial to calling them) that I've been working on for the past couple years. I could not be more excited about this book or about Featherproof, the press who is kind enough to humor me by publishing it. They have included me on every single decision so far, and they have more than met me halfway in terms of collaboration.

The design, I suspect, may be up in the air at this point, but Zach and I have been envisioning the cover for a while now. I basically told him "Make me somethin real nasty" and bless his heart, he did. We're in the process of collecting blurbs right now, and I just got one back from Kyle Minor that knocked my socks off. I am a huge fan of his, so to read the positive things he had to say about my own work was an honor.

That's the haps, anyway. Stay tuned.

Why We're Married

2010-01-18T11:55:00.003-06:00

This, excerpted from a conversation about a married co-worker being too flirtatious with another co-worker:

(11:48 AM) Bunny: it's like "sleeping with the enemy" and you're the dude with the beard who lives in iowa
(11:49 AM) Lindsay Hunter: that is amazing
(11:49 AM) Lindsay Hunter: but not very accurate
(11:49 AM) Bunny: not going to lie I was pretty proud of it
(11:49 AM) Bunny: it is accurate: he was a writer who had spent time in new york and so are you
(11:50 AM) Bunny: and his name was Ben!!!!
(11:50 AM) Bunny: !!!!!!!!!!!
(11:51 AM) Bunny: oh shit.....
(11:52 AM) Bunny: that actor is from chicagoland!!!
(11:52 AM) Bunny: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000754/
(11:52 AM) Lindsay Hunter: i am not looking at that
(11:52 AM) Lindsay Hunter: but this makes me fall in love with you all over again
(11:52 AM) Bunny: and he played "chuck" in risky business
(11:52 AM) Bunny: AND WE QUOTE THAT MOVIE
(11:52 AM) Bunny: ALL THE TIME!!!!!!
(11:53 AM) Lindsay Hunter: killing.me.
(11:53 AM) Bunny: too far?
(11:53 AM) Lindsay Hunter: just far enough
(11:53 AM) Bunny: makes sense
(11:53 AM) Bunny: I have never once in my life taken a joke too far
(11:54 AM) Bunny: ugh
(11:54 AM) Bunny: poor kevin anderson played "reenactment actor" in a 2002 fbi files episode
(11:54 AM) Bunny: why do I think julia roberts isn't taking his calls these days

News

2010-01-09T11:59:00.002-06:00

Recently promoted to Senior Instructional Designer at work, which is shocking and flattering and terrifying.

Working on the marketing stuff for Daddy's is really fun, but I find I have a tendency to want to sarcastically insult my own writing so the world doesn't think I take myself too seriously. I am probably not alone in this urge.

Recently read Julie Hecht's The Unprofessionals. It was very much like Mary Robison's Why Did I Ever, in a way, except for the character in The Unprofessionals seemed a lot less sure of herself, or even her own standing as a human being on the planet Earth. Loved it.

I have been submitting far fewer stories of late, and also getting a lot of "This is really great! But we don't want it, thanks." This is keeping me humble extremely effectively, which is a good thing, as my dad once casually informed me "You think you're special and you act accordingly," which I think he meant as a compliment? but which I took as the worst news ever, ever, ever.

Today we are going to eat Lebanese food followed by chips and salsa while we watch the Bengals game. Speaking of, Ochocinco's Twitter feed is extremely enjoyable, if not eye-bleedingly prolific.

Update

2009-09-19T11:24:00.003-05:00

I've been cautioned by my publisher that this blog should be updated. So here's what I have for you:

Last night I saw a little girl beat her small white dog like it was a rug infested with fire ants. I yelled at her to stop hitting the dog; she got indignant and stalked off. In other news, little girls are overrated.

I want to see this:

Now that I think of it, the little girl hitting her dog looked like the little girl in this trailer. Well.

Oh and the reason I have a publisher is because there is a book on the horizon with my name on it. September 2010. It's called "Daddy's." More news coming soon.

I leave you with Jew in the Room. I feel happy to know the blog author, but unhappy that she moved to California before I could get around to forcing her to be besties.

And the boy got swagger

2009-05-06T19:38:00.002-05:00

Exciting things have happened. One, there are only 37 days until I promise my privates to one man for the rest of eternity (or until I stop procrastinating about the divorce).

But further:

I was honored to find out that StorySouth named my story, Unpreparing (which Hobart deemed worthy of publishing), as a notable of 2008. Even though it fell short of the minimum word count!

And also, Wigleaf picked my story, Tuesday (which Smokelong gave a home to) as one of the Wigleaf Top 50 Very Short Fictions, 2009!

There are many of my literary heroes also included in these lists, and I can't believe I am in their company! So exciting and thus excited.

Remix

2009-03-07T18:29:00.002-06:00

This is awesome. I might very well participate under a variety of pen names. One being "J.D. Robb," natch.

Also, so into Eastbound and Down. I have loved Danny McBride since I first laid eyes on Bustass in All the Real Girls.

New Neko Case is the shit, can't wait to see her and Crooked Fingers in April. (The last time I saw Crooked Fingers the sound wasn't working so the band jumped off the stage and played acoustically while Eric Bachmann sang into the crowd. One of the top 5ive experiences of my life.)

Regarding personal shit, I have decided on a color palate for my bridesmaids and thus for the entire wedding. Marine blue, lime green, and brightass pink. And all the accents therein. Now that that is settled, I am free to wig about the next batch of stupid crap: what Ben/his groomsmen will wear, what my niece and nephews will wear, what frigging stamp to put on the invites. (I actually really like the planning process, but I have all too often come up against a wall in my creativity that I can only jump over after convincing myself my wedding will be the cheesiest, most boring event I will ever experience.)

Get my hole

2009-02-26T06:20:00.003-06:00

There are times when it feels like my insides are hanging in strips after they've been grated from my body by a blind old man, and I'm walking through them trying not to touch them, but I can't help it.

You know?

For the most part it is music or art that fucks me up in this way. And that is for sure the case now. The combination of Frightened Rabbit, Lark and Termite (the secret fur oh man oh man), Blake Butler, and an old story of Steve Kanaval's I recently came across hidden in my desk has done the trick. What can I do but write and write and write.

I feel like I'm running from myself toward myself. Gross.

I am going to tag this entry "beer farts."

Never Say Die

2009-02-22T20:21:00.002-06:00

Here I am, blogging while the Oscars are on mute. (Did anyone else notice that Hugh Jackman had a web of white spittle at the corner of his mouth during the opening number, btdubs? The horror.)

Anyway, the point is I'm not promising anything, especially since my last post was over a year ago. Poor Bob Seger had to represent all that time. But lately I've been thinking I've got stuff to share. So I figured I'd give the blog another go.

Here is what I've wanted to share lately:

Lark and Termite oh no she didn't but in a good way.
Yeasayer.
Wedding photographer.
Revisiting the Lebrons commercials.

I'll leave it at that for now.

I've never felt more alive.

2008-02-18T20:30:00.001-06:00

...and now I'm complete.

2008-02-15T17:43:00.001-06:00

Happy Belated.

2007-12-30T09:04:00.001-06:00

Dad

2007-12-05T20:05:00.000-06:00

My dad sent me a giant box of Lindsay memorabilia. It was fun to go through but even more than that it showed what a vanity my memory is. A lot of what was inside the box I didn't remember and had to keep checking for my name to make sure it really was mine, and not my sister's or my brother's. I like to walk around puffed up that I remember more than anyone, that I am in charge of what made me, but I don't, I'm not.

And apparently, I've been writing my entire life. The box had a bunch of little books I'd written as a child. Perhaps I'll read one at the first Quickies reading.

Grad school is coming to its end. I feel happy and proud about this but am squashing any hope with my iron fists.

What's next?

600 pounds of men...you get my point?

2007-11-19T21:19:00.000-06:00

Bill Haverchuck = Me

2007-10-31T20:13:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T08:55:00.000-05:00

If you've never clicked on any links I've provided, I'm begging you to click on this one. It's the e-card Ben sent me this morning, and it's the craziest thing I've ever seen. My favorite is the bat part.

Two Things...

2007-10-30T19:40:00.000-05:00

...that made me happy today.

1.) I said "Wadup?" to this guy I work with (the same guy I got Cokaleeza Rice from and the same guy who said "Goodday, laddie" to the Australian new guy) and he said "All right, how about you?"

2.) This guy on the train had his bag next to him, and people kept walking up to him going, is this seat taken? and he'd say in the exact same tone, "I've got somebody joining me at Clybourn." And then, more and more people got on the train and more and more people kept going up to him and trying to sit there. One lady even tried to move his bag, but that didn't deter him from intoning, "I've got somebody joining me at Clybourn." Even when the conductor came up and said, "Two tickets?" the man said, "I've got somebody joining me at Clybourn." My heart soared at his polite monotone, that never wavered even when faced with the way people (mostly women) were walking away, shaking their heads, rolling their eyes, sighing at his audacity.

Go See This Movie

2007-10-28T13:50:00.000-05:00

Anything Really Could Happen

2007-10-27T15:01:00.000-05:00

Pussaliah, That's It

2007-10-27T12:00:00.000-05:00

Ben is currently throwing (imaginary) webs at Rocky a la Spiderman. Now he just informed me that he's webbed my head off. This is what law school does to a person.

In class the other day this chick was all, "Do you care about plot? Or do you just care about language?" And I, deftly realizing that the entire class wanted me to care about plot, said, "Well, I don't want the reader to be like, 'What the fuuuuuuck?!'" But something bothered me about my answer, and it wasn't the stoner speak. The more I thought about it the more I realized that, yes, I do only care about language. That's where my interest begins, that's where my interest ends. I'm obsessed with getting the exact right word, the exact image, and whether or not there's a climax or a denouement means practically nothing to me. Perhaps this is my own selfishness, in that it may seem that I don't care about the reader, but I do, because the reader is always, always, going to be me. (I am ridiculous, I admit this wholeheartedly.)

But the shit of it is that what I go to, what I'm inspired by, are stories with perfectly crafted plots (The Paper Boy, for one). I was utterly annoyed by Laura Mullen's Murmur because I couldn't follow its plot, though its language was quite beautiful. (However, The Stones of Summer is my favorite book, and its joys, for me, are entirely language-driven.) And I'm obsessed by motive and background (this is due both to an early-instilled reverence for cop/investigative shows and my training at Lee Strasberg, I'm sure).

I just hate the idea that I have to direct a piece in a certain way so that the reader leaves with, as the chick in class put it, "a revelation." Why can't the revelation be different for each reader? Isn't that what criticism is, anyway? A writer puts something out and then the readers decide what the writer was going for, what the purpose of the book was. Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle about the plight of immigrants, but the readers took it for a manifesto on the horrors of slaughterhouses. "I aimed for their hearts and hit their stomachs," he lamented. There's something so freeing in that--the fact that intention begins and ends with the writer.

Another kid in class was all, "I didn't really care about the plot, really. I didn't think about it." All evidence points to that kid being a stoner. Have I finally found my audience?

Weirdy Weirdersen

2007-10-24T12:53:00.001-05:00

I am growing stranger by the minute. And by that I mean I am becoming a stranger.

Like on the train. There's this guy I call Creepy Creeperson who stares openly at me. He creeps me out to the point that I myself become creepy by watching the back of his head until he turns around to stare, at which point I pretend to be fascinated with the upper seating area of the train.

And also. I am getting to the point where I never want to leave my assigned comfort zone. I am becoming agoraphobic, which means soon I'll be fat.

And I find myself checking my work email from home.

And I can't bring myself to fold my laundry once it's finished in the dryer.

Maybe I have allergies? That's the first thing my mom would propose. You aren't agoraphobic, you're just allergic to bullshit and sunshine. And you're also lazy. But you have nice freckles.

Thanks, Mom! All better!

You Need to Cook Him Some Breakfast

2007-10-18T19:00:00.000-05:00

I just finished watching Madea's Family Reunion.

The good:

But then, the bad:

The clip I was looking for was when one of the lead characters, Vanessa, blocks her bedroom door so her mother (Lynn Whitfield) can't leave and (to the tune of "As God is my witness...) goes on a trip down memory lane about how Mom "gave" her to her husband to rape so he wouldn't leave. Then Whitfield brings it. "My mother was a real hooker," she spits, "who traded me for ten dollars and a (unintelligible)." Then she says, "You know I've always loved your sister more." And then, then, Vanessa has an epiphany. Her mother has been controlling her, she decides, and she's not gonna take it anymore. She's "gonna love hard" and, in what is supposed to be the height of enlightenment, she tells her mother, "I forgive you." What? Did I just throw up a little in my mouth? Yes.

And don't even get me started on Blair Underwood channeling Patrick Bergin in Sleeping with the Enemy.

My question is why, why, does Tyler Perry stack the deck so high? The thing he doesn't seem to understand is that humor does more to spread his message than the tired, recycled pan-spiritual speak that just seems more obvious than enlightening. And why does the drama feel so claustrophobic, like I'm watching my sister and my mother throwing darts at a rendering of my father, crying over chocolate martinis?

I just want to watch Madea manhandle some tweens and then make her boobs clap as they graduate valedictorian of their high school due to her tough love. I want to watch her rehabilitate the drug addicts in her family and then get arrested. Basically, I just want the Madea movies to be about Madea and not about how many boring Oprah/Dr. Phil/Pastor Brian nuggets Perry can squeeze in in two hours.

At one point I said to myself, "This is the worst movie ever made." But then Madea came on to tell Lisa about the hot grits on the stove, and I remembered that the worst movie ever made is actually Jerry Maguire (worst movie ever made not necessarily meaning movie I wouldn't watch over and over on TBS).

Junior

2007-10-16T18:01:00.000-05:00

My brother is pregnant. It's a girl!

In honor of girls, I present to you Exhibit A.

Iran so far away

2007-10-01T07:16:00.001-05:00

Oh, tight-assed psycho extremist politicians, how thou makst for a hilarious SNL bit!

Rock Band Aerobics Tape

2007-09-09T15:39:00.000-05:00

I saw Small Brown Bike last night at the Subterranean. First I went to a Polish wedding in Palos Hills, but that's another story. SBB was fanfuckingtastic, even considering the fact that I was stuck next to two douchebags in matching Urban Outfitters '99 wear who only really got excited when they played Future with No Friend. At one point Ben asked the crowd to consider registering with a bone marrow bank (the show was a benefit for a friend who'd successfully battled leukemia) and one of the douchebags turned to the other douchebag and made a poo-poo face and shook his head vigorously. I hope you get AIDS, I thought to myself. But then I felt bad for thinking it.

Keleton DMD was one of the opening acts. Holy everything they were amazing. You can also listen to them here if you scroll down.

The Vacuum.

Video for Safe in Sound. Note: this video attempts something cool but fails. I'm sorry, I just can't buy bigass Travis falling prey to Crispin Glover. And does anyone remember that movie, The Lady in White?

Yahweh, I love the Internet.

2007-09-08T12:35:00.000-05:00

Crazy Dogggs, Doggie Bounce

Why I Don't Hang Out

2007-08-31T06:23:00.000-05:00

Here are some videos of a typical evening at our apartment. Rocky starts something, Lulu reciprocates, and then Rocky gets annoyed and ignores her.

Why the Weird Face?

2007-08-28T09:20:00.000-05:00

This kid hacked into the iPhone and discovered...

Crushes

2007-08-26T09:13:00.000-05:00

and

Video!

2007-08-25T08:18:00.001-05:00

Here is video of Ben's dad's technique of scaring gulls away so he and Ben can get closer to the ocean. Also: Ben nearly falls in and his sister shrieks about something unseen. (This is not to be confused with the time, moments later, that Ben actually did fall and nearly slid in and used his camera as an anchor.)

Maine-land (I'm a writer)

2007-08-24T16:14:00.000-05:00

We went to Damariscotta, Maine for five days earlier this week. Here is proof:

Portland!

I thought this would be an awesome picture. You know, arty. Oh, well.

The house we stayed in.

The house we stayed in's backyard.

The house we stayed in's backyard's pond.

Downtown Damariscotta.

More Maine-y shit.

This lighthouse is on the Maine quarter!

These were growing near the lighthouse. Tomatoes? Cherries? Cherry tomatoes? You be the judge.

More lighthouse.

This Native American was keeping it real. And you know how much Native Americans like to keep it real. He faced the gift shop; his ass faced the lighthouse.

Ben's dad went on walkabout and when we found him he had this feather in his baseball cap and he was profoundly changed. He wanted us to call him "Frederic Supertramp."

I like this picture because it shows the beautiful striations formed in the rocks by the sea, and it also shows the husk of a crab recently eaten by a gull--life is beautiful. But mostly I like this picture because it's reminiscent of a vagina.

The sea tried to claim Ben as he stood pontificating on the rocks with his father. His sister and I stood alternately screeching and laughing hysterically hundreds of feet away, helpless. Luckily, he used his camera as a crafty sort of anchor and he was able to find his footing again. However, he did not escape that pesky sea poo, and the rocks weren't kind to the boniness of his legs.

Here is the lens of the lighthouse.

Here is the remains of what we ate after leaving the lighthouse. Note the lobster corpse. I was going for a PETA meets Jeff Koons type thing.

The view from the restaurant.

Later, we went hiking.

We went kayaking but I didn't bring my camera on the actual kayak part. Here are some photos taken after returning to land.

I was shocked to find that after all the athletics and nature I was exposed to, I still didn't manage to a.) get a tan, or b.) become less huge. Evidence below.

It was an awesome trip. We also went to L.L. Bean and I bought a barn coat, some boots, and a hunting coat for my dog. I told this to T. Xavier, who responded, "Normally, I'd be against dogs wearing clothes. But since you'll both look like lesbians, I say go for it." I may be paraphrasing a little.
Anyway, Maine!

All of this?

2007-08-13T19:06:00.000-05:00

Wowzers

2007-08-12T11:51:00.000-05:00

Tegan and Sara, Ragan and Skiba

2007-08-10T18:07:00.001-05:00

Really loving these:

Tegan and Sara, The Con

And this guy:

Saw Chuck Ragan and Matt Skiba last night and as a bonus Chris McCaughan from the Lawrence Arms opened up with his band Sundowner. Holy shit what a great show. Holy shit when did 10-year olds start going to shows. Next to me was a kid whose voice hadn't even broken yet. He sounded like my four-year old nephew. Also we stood right next to the token "Fuck yeah!" guy. Naturally, he was rocking the eyebrow piercing.

Self-Portrait of the Day*

2007-07-29T20:58:00.001-05:00

*This may be the best portrait of me that has ever existed. Or will ever exist.

We went to see Once last night. The more I think about it, the better it becomes. Especially the music. For you, Falling Slowly.

Homme

2007-07-27T16:03:00.000-05:00

At CVS today Ben got spazzy and manhandled me, grabbing my shoulders and bussing me into the plastic house shoes. I was shocked. I watched my reflection in his Ray-Bans be shocked. I could tell he was also shocked, but he was still pumped from his spazzy testosterone burst and a smile nicked the corners of his mouth.

Before that we had lunch at Jimmy John's.

It's a strange place. It tries very hard to maintain its college sub-shop theme, right down to the the-only-way-to-explain-this-band's-success-is-to-do-a-lengthy-study-of-the-frat-mindset-somewhat-similar-to-method-acting-wherein-one-dons-cargo-shorts-and-smelly-flipflops-and-sweats-beer-and-turns-the-volume-up-when-Collective-Soul-comes-on-and-slowly-realizes-that-Kid-Rock-was-right-about-everything soundtrack. The music was loud and the signage was depressing, similar to how the poster section at Wal-Mart is depressing. (Across from me today was a sign printed with that e-mail forward everyone gets about how amazing the human brain is because it can read words without vowels and still get the gist. I just know whoever had that sign printed wished to God it was possible to install a tiny camera just above it to catch the looks of awe and wonderment on people's faces as their brain understood words comprised of only consonants and/or as they realized that this sign was all too familiar; in fact, this exact sign sat forgotten in their virtual wastebasket in Outlook, nestled between the one about John Lennon pissing God off and the one about the lone hunter wrasslin a giant grizzly to its death.)

Anyway, the signs and the music, coupled with the all-too-tah-tah sandwich names (the Vito, Totally Tuna) and the red, black and white color scheme, made me feel a bit like I'd just walked in on my dad cleaning his guns in his undies while watching NASCAR. A little creepy, a little nostalgic, a little, well, manly.

When I got back to the office a co-worker told me how she'd noticed that there was an inordinate amount of male customers there. In her JJ's study she'd noticed that there were often lines out the door, but that they were lines of men rarely interspersed with women. So men feel comfortable, perhaps even awesome, ordering a Turkey Tom or a Bootlegger and nodding along to the likes of Ugly Kid Joe and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

And then it hit me: JJ's is a filling station for testosterone. Men, hungry not just for something roast beef-y, but hungry also for something beefy, queue out the door for their daily intake of man. They walk in broken, emasculated by office conversations about Grey's Anatomy and The View, considering pedicures and chair massages at Whole Foods just to be able to forget it all for a while, and they walk out with chests wide, fists balled, nostrils flared, sandwich/chips/drink combo swinging at their sides to the beat of Three Doors Down, delighted at the fact that they read "Yr brn ndrstnds wrds wtht vwls" on the first try.

And then they stomp into CVS, grease-finger the magazines, ponder the Slim Jims, and manhandle their girlfriends in the "Summer Fun!" aisle.

At least it doesn't last long. Behind his Ray-Bans Ben knew what he'd done even before that size 7 house shoe stopped swinging. He apologized and bought me the toothbrush holders I ordered him to buy me, and then I knew things were back to normal.

I'm Buying Stock in YouTube as Soon as I Get Some Money

2007-07-26T20:35:00.000-05:00

Watch this and join me on my crest of joy. Van Damme is doing the same dances Ben does in his boxer shorts when he has too much energy (moments before he crashes and whines, "I'm ty-ty. I hadda long day. Turn off the lighty."). But then, shortly after VD goes into the dance-splits, it goes in a different direction--these pan-Asian people don't want to see his moves, and those bitches aren't really interested in his jock! They've got more sinister plans in mind--namely, running up to him and waiting around for him to do the fight-splits and elaborately punch them, breaking a bottle and waiting around for him to elaborately punch them, and nearly pulling out a decorative cheese-knife set from their inside pocket but then thinking better of it because there's always time for a cheese plate and they're intrigued by his drunken strength. Note that I had no idea he was supposed to be drunk until the end of the scene (made even more memorable by the guy who runs up to VD and then waits around for VD to slam his head into his shot glass and then the table).

VD is clearly ignoring the agreement. Clearly there's some unspoken rule that when you're drinking in a strange Asian bar, if a fight breaks out you're supposed to do the noble thing and just run up to each other and flex. These people never saw it coming. VD honors no unspoken rules (except for the one about always wearing Z. Cavaricci's).

Playing Horizon

2007-07-26T20:24:00.000-05:00

I’d like to write something that doesn’t feel so much like a fucking lie. I’d like Word to open up more quickly and for it to just go ahead and assume that I want a blank document and NOT an envelope or whatever the hell. I’d like to have people’s addresses so that I can mail them the postcards I bought for that purpose. I’d like to be excited about hanging out. I’d like a maid. I’d like a constant supply of water at my side. I’d like to go swimming. I’d like to work in nature instead of in an office. I'd like to be far more openly sarcastic. I'd like to read more philosophy. I'd like to quit dumbing down. I'd like to tolerate silence. I'd really like it if.

Self-portrait of the day (SSDD):

.

Forward: Cue Cuckoo Clock

2007-07-25T09:24:00.000-05:00

This was forwarded to me by my co-worker (the same one who insists a woman should take her husband's last name and should have no visible tattoos):

WHAT THE BIBLE SAYS ABOUT DEATH

Death is certain but the Bible speaks about untimely death! Make a personal reflection about this. Very interesting, read until the end.

It is written in the Bible (Galatians 6:7): "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."

Here are some men and women who mocked God:

JOHN LENNON: Some years before, during his interview with an American Magazine, he said: "Christianity will end, it will disappear. I do not have to argue about that. I am certain. Jesus was ok, but his subjects were too simple, today we are more famous than Him" (1966). Lennon, after saying that the Beatles were more famous than Jesus Christ, was shot six times.

TANCREDO NEVES (President of Brazil): During the Presidential campaign, he said if he got 500,000 votes from his party, not even God would remove him from Presidency. Sure he got the votes, but he got sick a day before being made President, then he died.

CAZUZA (Bi-sexual Brazilian composer, singer and poet): During a show in Canecï¯ ( Rio de Janeiro ), whilst smoking his cigarette, he puffed out some smoke into the air and said: "God, that's for you." He died at the age of 32 of AIDS in a horrible manner.

THE MAN WHO BUILT THE TITANIC: After the construction of the Titanic, a reporter asked him how safe the Titanic would be. With an ironic tone he said: "Not even God can sink it" The result: I think you all know what happened to the Titanic.

MARILYN MONROE: She was visited by Billy Graham during a presentation of a show. He said the Spirit of God had sent him to preach to her. After hearing what the Preacher had to say, she said: "I don't need your Jesus". A week later, she was found dead in her apartment.

BON SCOTT: The ex-vocalist of the AC/DC. On one of his 1979 songs he sang: "Don't stop me, I'm going down all the way, down the highway to hell". On the 19th of February 1980, Bon Scott was found dead, he had been choked by his own vomit.

CAMPINAS/SP IN 2005: In Campinas, Brazil a group of friends, drunk, went to pick up a friend. The mother accompanied her to the car and was so worried about the drunkenness of her friends and she said to the daughter - holding her hand, who was already seated in the car: "MY DAUGHTER, GO WITH GOD AND MAY HE PROTECT YOU."

She responded: "ONLY IF HE (GOD) TRAVELS IN THE TRUNK, CAUSE INSIDE HERE IT'S ALREADY FULL". Hours later, news came by that they had been involved in a fatal accident, everyone had died, the car could not be recognized what type of car it had been, but surprisingly, the trunk was intact. The police said there was no way the trunk could have remained intact. To their surprise, inside the trunk was a crate of eggs, none were broken.

Christine Hewitt: A Jamaican Journalist and entertainer, said the Bible (Word of God) was the worst book ever written, in June 2006 she was found burnt beyond recognition in her motor vehicle.

Many more important people have forgotten that there is no other name that was given so much authority as the name of Jesus. Many have died, but only Jesus died and rose again, and he is still alive.

JESUS!!!

P.S: If it was a joke, you would have sent it to everyone. So are you going to have courage to send this? I have done my part, Jesus said " If you are embarrassed about me, I will also be embarrassed about you before my father."

So I forwarded it to Ben. His response: "once a guy said 'I hate people who dress Mod' but God thought he said God instead of Mod so a viper ate his skull."

My favorite thing

2007-07-22T11:12:00.000-05:00

I can't get enough of this. It sounds like what a deeply, deeply insane person hears in his/her head in a constant loop. Look at his earnest eyes. Look at the way he's terrified of breathing into the mic--to the point of nearly asphyxiating himself via song. Look at his wooden delivery--though he does start grooving when the song is nearly over, a kind of grooving out of relief. Tay Zonday, who are you?

Self-Portrait of the Day

2007-07-21T15:50:00.000-05:00

Self-Portrait of the Day

2007-07-19T21:41:00.001-05:00

Self-Portrait of the Day

2007-07-18T19:14:00.001-05:00

Self-Portrait of the Day

2007-07-17T15:52:00.001-05:00

Self-Portrait of the Day

2007-07-16T20:09:00.000-05:00

Writing

2007-07-15T11:03:00.000-05:00

I've been writing all morning, which essentially means I've been in two trances interspersed with countless forays into the kitchen for dark chocolate, followed by sugar spazzes where I scare my dogs and possibly Ben. But it's nice to turn around and be greeted with a dog, patiently waiting behind my chair for me to notice her.

Self-portrait of the day (I heard flickr is sponsoring a project where one takes a self-portrait every day for a year):

(Yes, I'm wearing my nightgown while listening to my iPod and attempting to write.)

My favorite thing

2007-07-08T20:29:00.000-05:00

(regrettably stolen from Perez Hilton)

Summer Pic of the Day

2007-07-01T11:30:00.001-05:00

A boy and his dog.

P.S. M. Ward's song "To Go Home" is gorgeous.

I Push Right Over

2007-07-01T11:00:00.000-05:00

We went to the country music festival at Taste Chicago to see this guy:

But first we saw these people learn to dance:

I really love this picture:

This guy had tap shoes on and did a little Sammy Davis, Jr. to the Hoyle Brothers:

Then we saw the Honky Tonk traveling museum, featuring memorabilia from Elvis, Buddy Holly, Webb Pierce, Patsy Cline, etc. Here is Ben posing next to Webb Pierce's suit. I have no idea what he was looking at or why he's trying to pretend like seconds before he wasn't like "Take a picture of me, take a picture of me!"

This is more like it (posing with the Killer):

Finally, after a root beer float (me) and a frozen ice-cream cake on a stick and rib sandwich (him), we saw what we came for:

We love Grant:

And Mike Frederickson and Gerald:

Robbie Fulks played his face off,

but he was outshined by this guy dancing. He did the "throw the dice" and the "I'm a robber creeping through your laser alarms" dances better than anyone I've ever seen. I wanted to shake his hand but I didn't want to break the spell. The girl he was with tried to keep up but her strapless top kept her occupied. A valiant effort, anyhow.

Check out the guy with the white hair. He's like, I totally relate to you. They are pretty hilarious. But I'm a real photographer so I won't be snapping their picture like you. Here's hoping for nip slippage, though!

One more, because I love them so:

Oh, Robbie.

Oh, Chicago.

When I look at you, I'm there

2007-06-28T19:44:00.000-05:00

J.O.D.D. is the greatest song of the current week. Bitch, you ain't gotta wear drawers.

Excellency

2007-06-26T20:47:00.001-05:00

I saw Clancy Brown on the street today. He was wearing one of those khaki vests they wear in the movies when they want the character to look like a scientist about to go on a hike. I nearly brushed elbows with him and my heart pounded loudly. My shoes were squeaking to top it all off. Hopefully he was like, is there a duck nearby? and had to look toward the sound (i.e. at me) to figure it out.

I've been missing Florida lately. The nearness of my mom and sister. My nephews. The bar. Knowing how to get around with my eyes closed. Driving by places and not being able to help remembering a million things. The weather.

At the same time, though, when I'm there I feel like the walls are closing in. Like the quicksand has only reached my ankles and yet I'm giving in, already plugging my nose, saying my prayers, taking one last look around before I'm sucked in.

(Not summer at all) pic of the day (a.k.a. I needed an excuse to post this hilarious picture of my brother):

Someday lady you'll accompany me

2007-06-24T10:39:00.000-05:00

Breaking news: iTunes offers no Bob Seger!! Are they prejudiced against the Bruce Springsteen of the wife-beater sect or something? No Night Moves? No Like a Rock? No Hollywood Nights?! I am dissatisfied.

I just looked off into the distance to think of what to write next, and my eyes happened to fall on a guy hanging out his window, possibly retching. Clearly the toilet was occupied. Clearly he wasn't retching--just whispering sweet nothings to his backyard. Calling down to his Juliet (blame the women's movement). Looking for his contact lens.

Summer pic of the day:

Jeffrey Brown reading at Powell's. He even read all the "Ugh"'s and "Thwack!"'s and "Blah blah blah"'s. He was hilarious and had skinny arms.

Summer Pic of the Day

2007-06-21T06:55:00.001-05:00

FLW House
Originally uploaded by lindsaydevon

Frank Lloyd Wright house. Trees! Architecture!

Smooth Jazz

2007-06-19T14:45:00.000-05:00

The other night I lay (laid?) down to go to sleep and suddenly my brain began singing "HappyHappyHappyHappyHappy Anniversary." Over and over. I clenched and unclenched my teeth to the rhythm until I finally fell asleep.

(If you're interested in how my summer is going, listen to Joe Walsh's "In the City.")

I applied for a job and a few days later while I was doing the dishes I heard the echo of laughter coming from the direction of the Loop (south). That's when I knew I didn't get the job.

Somebody, please throw an opportunity at me. I'll go teach in China, I'll build houses in Darfur, I'll canoe the Pacific. Whatever.

They're filming Batman near where I work and I just know as I walked by the trailers the other morning the entire cast and crew was impressed with my Ann Taylor culottes and retro blouse paired with high boots in the middle of the goddamn summer and they thought to themselves, now why didn't we think of that? She's definitely cheaper (literally and figuratively) than Maggie Gyllenhaal and she's absolutely more desperate. Then they thought, how many more adverbs can we throw in this poorly written thought-sentence?

There's something drenched about the summer. The humidity makes everything moist and squeezed, but it's not only that. When it's 8:30 and the sun is just setting it feels like a million possibilities going down with it. I never want anything to end.

Oh chai Gawd

2007-06-01T12:20:00.000-05:00

The Starbucks at the train station puts too much chai in my chai and now my heart is racing and my hands are shaking and I'm ready to do something erratic (like posting).

I've been wearing flip-flops to the train and from the train to work and it takes all I have to put on my work shoes. I always hated the heat when I lived in Florida but now that I'm in Chicago I love it, I want to do weird things like wear tank tops and shorts and expose my horrifyingly pale legs to all of Ravenswood, get a spray tan and a mani/pedi, eat ice cream (iced cream?), lay in the grass in the park, ride my bike, sweat.

I may be going to Mexico City for Christmas. (Edit: no I'm fucking not.)

It's raining men. No really.

2007-05-23T13:10:00.000-05:00

Dear A.M. Homes,

I just want you to like me and think I'm funny.

Sincerestly,

L.D. Hunter

Remembories

2007-05-22T20:50:00.000-05:00

When it's past 8 o'clock and I can still hear birds singing.
When I spend too much money on a new outfit.
When I shave my legs at work because I don't have time to do it at home.
When this guy at work says certain things, like "Coke-aleeza Rice."
When a lovely boy smiles at me when he's exiting the elevator and I'm entering.
When I forget a song and it reminds me.
When I get a text message asking about exits.
When I take the first sip of my morning tea.
When my beagly basset and my ridgebacked boxer can't help but kiss me on the chin and sometimes on the teeth.
When I'm reading.
When there are moments like other moments I thought would never come again.

Work

2007-05-01T12:50:00.000-05:00

From: Benjamin Lyon
Sent: Tue 5/1/2007 11:31 AM
To: Lindsay Hunter
Subject: RE:

My new band sounds like a cross between Sunny Day Real Estate and the sound of someone being murdered in a national park

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Lindsay Hunter
Sent: Tuesday, May 01, 2007 11:34 AM
To: Benjamin Lyon
Subject: RE:

haha

why a national park?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Benjamin Lyon
Sent: Tue 5/1/2007 11:36 AM
To: Lindsay Hunter
Subject: RE:

The acoustics of being strangled by a drifter amongst towering pine trees is the sound we’re going for – that and pop-punk-emo

DBQ

2007-04-26T18:55:00.000-05:00

DBQ showed this in class today. The last cat is the one to watch. Note how desperate the cat gets when he says "Why I eyes ya..." Hilarious.

Ear has exploded. There will be a Van Gogh situation soon.

No Subject!

2007-04-24T01:38:00.000-05:00

I have a massive earache and it's making me want to die. It's 2:38 in the morning and I have class and work tomorrow (today). Die die die.

This is it!

2007-03-19T19:09:00.000-05:00

Oh my little mockingbird sing

2007-03-19T18:56:00.000-05:00

I'm interested in you. What are you wearing? Are you attracted to the phrase 'foul language'? As much as I am? Have you ever seen the cartoon Spartacus? This would be the only validation I'd need. Like how as a child I told myself something happened, but couldn't truly be sure until a certain number of days had passed, and then when they had I couldn't really tell if they'd passed or if it had all happened in my mind. So I'd say, okay. Seven days from this moment, standing here next to the gumball machine in Wal-Mart. Each day is a hash mark, mark it. But I'd always forget.

Today at work my co-worker said, oh, okay. Now we know everything Lindsay says is a lie. What a relief! I thought. I mean, isn't it obvious? I always think to myself.

(But my nickname at work is "Pure." Hello, Pure. How are you doing, Pure? Don't you remember? She's Pure.)

The other day I asked Ben if he thought I was self-aware. Of course, he said.

My worst fear is to be one of those people staring off into space on the train, unaware. So I pretend to be one of those people and I try to always be aware of other people looking at me assuming I'm staring off into space.

This one girl once told me she could see right through people. I asked her to tell me what she saw. Oh, Lindsay, she said, you're too easy.

My dad told me I'm the most devious of them all. But I never forget his birthday.

And you. Oh my little bird in the cage. I can still feel my feet burning underneath me, sitting on them at 4 in the morning, watching Spartacus alone. My shoulders are bare. I am Spartacus.

See You Next Tuesday

2007-03-14T11:31:00.000-05:00

Really into high school football, Randy Constan, The Wire, spring, new apartment, Easter-egg shaped M&M's, creatively responding versus critiquing, wondering if I will lose my job, Greek salads, turning 27, craving Florida, Ben being on spring break, overly dramatic power pop, Pie Traynor's Glove, and anything spicy.

No longer into cold weather, slush, being gypped out of a day, ugly attitudes, boring jokes, the disengaged knob on my bathtub faucet, the rust stains from the pliers I use to turn the faucet on, not getting paid, and not talking to Kathleen enough.

I met my co-worker's daughter last Friday. She's almost two and we colored together and then I broke her crayon in my giant paw (accidentally). She stared at me with her huge yet beady eyes and stated "You broke it." Then she said it again. Every time she looked at a crayon, smelled a crayon, thought of a crayon, she said it. She seemed more fascinated than upset. Apparently over the weekend she told her grandma I broke it and to beat me up, to give me "Pow-Pow's." But she also named one of her dolls after me. She's clearly my new best friend.

(The head of our I.T. department just walked by--does he recognize the Blogger interface? Probably not, since he just realized email doesn't get sent to a magical place where it is then printed out and placed in an envelope to be mailed instantaneously to its recipient via WonkaVision.)

Somebody, I'm not saying who, farted in the shower this morning and Ben said it sounded like a duck quacking. Ben then proceeded to theorize that the farter could just go on down to the lake and have quite the back-and-forth with the ducks bobbing on the water. That is a perfect example of why Ben and I are infinite--that and the fact that we watch ANTM religiously.

Speaking of which, Natasha perpetually looks like my mom did when she showed up to the punk show I'd organized as a teenager. She was terrified and confused yet tried valiantly to maintain an air of understanding--all this manifesting itself in a smile where all her teeth showed, flared nostrils, squinted eyes and eyebrows violently arched in an effort to stop squinting. But whereas it's precious in my mom's case, it's intolerable in Natasha's.

Foghorn.

Joseph Carmichael

2007-01-28T12:53:00.001-06:00

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Originally uploaded by lindsaydevon.

My bookshelf is haunted. Look closely and you'll see the apparition of something, possibly the ghost of my novel, dead these past months. Happily, it clearly hasn't abandoned me and, like Wendy, I will seam the shadow and make it whole again.

The light fantastic

2007-01-10T20:47:00.001-06:00

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Originally uploaded by lindsaydevon.

Robbie Fulks

2007-01-08T20:51:00.000-06:00

We saw Robbie Fulks on the eve of New Year's Eve. Let's just say he brought it, complete with a rundown of 2006's most popular songs (Chamillionaire, KT Tunstall, etc.) and a strip-version of SexyBack.

Included: a pensive (meaning blurry) shot of B down the street from Fitzgerald's.

Why didn't I remember to include photos from our feast at Olive Garden mere hours before the show?!

So?

2007-01-08T20:31:00.000-06:00

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Originally uploaded by lindsaydevon.

A gift from B's brother. I like how you can see my bangs through the terrifying mesh eyewear, and that, naturally, the entire thing was too tight, thereby giving me some bona fide jowels. I don't remember what face I was going for, but I'm sure I was serious.

Boredom

2007-01-08T20:25:00.000-06:00

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Originally uploaded by lindsaydevon.

Work has been dreary lately. Talk of budget cuts. Nothing to do. Saying things like "Is it Friday yet?" unironically, then admonishing myself for doing so and then, seconds later, saying it again.

It's simple to get swallowed up by the old Monday to Friday hopscotch. A poet once told me to avoid that way of life at all costs. I think of that often, mostly when my ass feels like it's been shivved from sitting for too long.

Here is what I saw, for a brief moment, when exiting my building and heading for the train, tugging on my gloves and hat and sighing, "Almost there."

Clawhammer

2006-12-25T09:17:00.000-06:00

Stay tuned for my new efforts at blogging, which I am calling phlogging (photo-blogging). The new digicam I got for Christmas only holds 6 pictures in its internal memory, so I must wait to buy a memory card tomorrow. And then it's on.

Merry Christmas.

Heyoooohhh

2006-06-03T21:23:00.000-05:00

If you were Angela Lansbury and you were collecting evidence on me and the evidence included:

Listened to Hands to Heaven by Breathe at least thirteen times in a row
Image-searched The Notebook on Yahoo(!)
Watched The Notebook (avoided the old people parts)
Image-searched Rachel McAdams
Got misty at the spray-paint art on Breathe's MySpace profile of a skanky couple tugging at each other's pants
Ate chocolate cupcake

...what conclusion would you draw? Wait...have to press 'play' on iTunes again...okay I'm back.

Angela Lansbury: Welp, looks like Aunt Flo's comin' to town, kiddo.
Me: Shut your tea-kettle-shaped face, grammaw.

(Didn't she voice the tea kettle in Beauty and the Beast?)

Tonight I need your sweet caress...hold me in the darkness...tonight you calm my restlessness...you relieve my sadness...told you that shizz is good.

And what's with sad 80's songs and the saxophone solo? Remember the song from Danny and Debbie? And the theme from St. Elmo's Fire (which is not, sadly, the song St. Elmo's Fire...it's the hopeful instrumental number)?

(Suddenly I'm Seinfeld. What's with this? What's with that? What's with 'what's with'? Not funny. Help.)

I went to a party last night...a going-away thing for cc. It was very fun, but I was sick, blowing snot all over the joint, and it wasn't until someone looked at me and said, 'Are you okay?' with a look of fear and disgust emanating from his beard that I realized sick girl with tissue + people trying to party = downer and gross. I left peacefully. This morning I woke up with a tissue stuck to my cheek and my mouth wide open. I may have been choking; I'm not sure.

As I watch you move...across the moonlight room...there's so much tenderness and you're lovely...tomorrow I must leave...the door knows no reprieve...God give me strength when I am leaving...so raise your hands to heaven and pray...that we'll be back together some dayheyyyyyyeeee....

Okay. I have to go make a fort out of my bed and my desk chair so I have somewhere sufficiently dark and ridiculous to cry about raising my hands to heaven.

(Happy, cc?)

Saffron

2006-05-11T16:50:00.000-05:00

This is the guitar mon pere bought and sent to me. For no reason. It is yellow. It is gorgeous. It is sitting in the FedEx facility waiting for me. I feel undeserving of such a gift.

Thank you, D.W. Hunter. I will play Back in Black in your honor, and maybe a little Merle.

currently

2006-05-07T19:25:00.000-05:00

currently m. lady and her post about memory. specifically about losing it.

currently jeffrey brown and his a e i o u or any easy intimacy.

currently not capitalization.

currently the whiteness of the whale.

currently shoulders and clavicles.

currently old pictures of the sharpness of my bones.

currently the end of my first year.

currently the train.

currently the night and hiding things in alleys.

currently who will find them.

currently glue and paper.

currently autobiographical comics.

currently icy heart.

currently porn for girls.

currently making something out of nothing.

currently form as an issue for art.

currently unhappy with the form.

currently the summer.

currently memory.

currently bewildered.

Neato

2006-04-12T16:33:00.000-05:00

Betty Boop is scariest: http://michaelpaulus.com/gallery/character-Skeletons

Aujourd'hui c'est mon anniversaire

2006-04-07T14:17:00.000-05:00

A photo essay of the various emotions I've gone through upon waking up, featuring my nephews Sayre and Jonas:

It's my birthday!

Fuck yeah!

Oh, snap. I have the flu AND I got my period. And best friend's flight has been delayed twice.

I'm all alone.

Time to start drinking!

Drunk and safe in my crib, moments before projectile vomiting and drifting off into a sweet, dreamless sleep.

Tanya Turner

2006-04-04T06:10:00.000-05:00

I have nothing more to say.

I Have the Strength to Endure

2006-03-26T18:54:00.000-06:00

This is my boyfriend C.J. I thought it was C. Jay but I guess it's C.J.

Anyway I'm back from Memphis. Tennessee, not Greece, Leah. I'm never leaving my dog again.

In this Vanity Fair article I just read about Clarence Jones he references Moby Dick AND I and Thou. Once I saw that I slapped the magazine closed and passed out. That's it for me, people. Only I was on the plane and I woke up to my mouth being open and smashed bangs. I am hott.

I just realized I have a deep-seeded(seated) disdain for commas. I rarely use them after introductory elements. I don't want to lead anyone on I guess.

Currently Ben and I are in a clash of wills over who will clean up the dinner dishes. When I say 'dishes' I mean 'styrofoam box from Las Mananitas because our gas was turned off because I may or may not have remembered to get it transferred into our name when we moved here almost a year ago.'

In Memphis I: went to Graceland; went to Sun Studios; went to Strings 'n Things; went to the Gibson guitar factory and bought a metal slide; went to Burk's Books; drank as much sweet tea as my bladder could handle and then drank more because my favorite feeling (besides you know) is peeing after holding it; watched Weird Tales of the Ramones at least thirty times with my dad; played XBox 360 with my dad; talked some shit with my dad; watched my 6'2" stepmom handle two short men at the bar; prayed to Elvis' ghost--my prayers were answered yes they were; drank vodka tonics; spooned the Maggopotomous every night; blah blah blah and wrote. My dad promised me a St. Blues guitar--if this is true, Cunny is officially up and running (alert JK, M. Lady, CC!!).

Howlin' Wolf. Why have I never heard him before?

There's more but there isn't.

Dynasty

2006-03-22T06:21:00.000-06:00

So I had a party this weekend. On St. Patrick's Day, but not because of St. Patrick's Day. I'm far too sarcastic for that shizz. I bought some Lucky Charms to be festive, though. I put forth the effort. A fratty in a green shirt and beads (what is it with the fratties and their beads?) screamed "Who stole me Lucky Charms?!" in my face when he saw the box. I laughed and laughed. Because it was funny, but also because I knew he'd be the one at 2 in the morning, red-faced and sweating, clutching his buddy around the neck and kissing his ear, just like my dad used to do to my brother. The next morning they'd have to have a punching contest and discuss bozongas or melons or tits to eradicate any leftover gayness. (The fratties. Not my dad/brother. My dad bounced right back, grinding his coffee beans at 3:30 in the morning, and my brother went right back to giggling nervously and staring at his giant feet if he ever found himself in my dad's presence. They did have punching contests though. My dad would say, come on, buddy, hit me as hard as you can. Bro would politely protest and then, when prompted again, would hit my dad in his banker's arm with all the might of a child giant pissed off about being forced to go to scout camp. This automatically angered my father, despite his pleading for it, and the game would end with 'Go clean your room.')

Anyway. My point. JK has reminded me that I laid down to have my chalk outline drawn, as she just happened to have a giant piece of chalk handy. As I recall, I was shaped somewhat like Jabba the Hut if he went about on spindly legs. The best part about the story, however, is that I laid down NEXT TO THE DUMPSTERS LIKE IT WAS MY JOB. Thinking about it now, I realize my brother may not be the only one with a drinking problem. The first step is admitting, people!

Oh it was a good party. There were boobs, vomiting, an Ewok, bean dip, good music, people passing out on my bed(s), vodka, vodka, vodka, and gin. And many more things I can't wait to be reminded of.

Footballers' Wives is the best show in the whole wide world. It's ruining my life and I'm letting it. Words I've learned:

Slag
Nippy
Nappy
Knackered
Bloody
Balls'ed up
Wiv

And many more.

I Am a Mighty Little Man; I'd Like to Be Your Hero.

2006-03-07T19:42:00.000-06:00

I basically just blogged what I was going to blog here in the comments section of Joanna's blog. Blog blog blog. So I've decided to make this post a fun game. Out of the following, pick what isn't true:

1. I bled on a deposit envelope today.
2. I then deposited said deposit envelope.
3. I saw a man in Walgreens that looked like a short Ali G and said, "Hey, you look like a short Ali G!" (exclamation point theirs)
4. I slammed my finger in my desk drawer.
5. I wrote "shutup shutup shutup shutup shutup" et cetera in the margins of my notebook when this girl in class was pontificating how Lear was quite possibly mad, man.
6. I asked my boss "What's up with you, yo?"
7. I ate a pimento cheese sandwich.
8. I ate 32 Easter M&M's.
9. I told everyone I could find that I'm currently hormonal.
10. I woke up at 5:30 this morning and watched Access Hollywood and Extra.
11. I spin-kicked a woman at work in the teeth after she told me she could tell I was tired based on the giant sallow bags under my eyes.
12. I followed the spin-kick with the scissor-split onto her face and choked her with my thigh vices, after which I said, "Who's tired now, PoopFace?!"

You tell me. You tell me what's true. You tell me who I am, at least today.

We didn't talk about the Specksynder in class today, and that fact emptied me.

I'm going to Memphis in two weeks. I will bring my banjo and my dad's socks will be knocked off and he'll say, "I'm so sorry I said you had a big head and chubby knees. You do, but at least you can play Bile Dem Cabbage Down and Cripple Creek. And, hey, at least you're not wearing shorts."

I repeat myself a great deal. I'm nothing but a pinwheel. A merry-go-round (let me off, assholes!). A cycle. It's like that joke about the dog throwing up, looking away, looking back and going, "Oh my gosh, food!", eating it, then throwing up again.

Not my dog. The metaphorical dog. Me.

"We are budding like a fruit underneath a rusting roof. We dream our dreams and sing our songs of the fecundity of life and love. Of life and love. Of life and love." That is for you, but you already knew that, as everything is. Tu et vous. Tous.

The Morale Out Here Is Pretty Fuckin Low

2006-02-27T19:00:00.000-06:00

When I was little I thought I could turn myself into Rainbow Brite. My dad had this friend who did magic tricks and he gave me a wand and told me to practice. Whenever I think of that my mind also jumps to a time very close to then when I told myself to pee my pants and did, just to see what it felt like. I peed in the white jumper with the shoulder ties that my mom made me, and then I put on a different jumper. She was mixing something in the silver bowl in the kitchen. I almost got away with it.

I'm always on the verge of being embarrassed, all the time. Self-inflicted. I think to myself, "Shh...don't do that. It'll end badly, most likely with you splayed at the bottom of some stairs with your own hair in your own mouth." And then I promptly do it anyway. Today I sat in the stairwell and read Moby Dick and a girl with a hat went down the stairs and five minutes later came back up the stairs. To preempt any sadness she may have felt at my situation, that being sitting in the corner of a dank stairwell with my coat still on reading about a whale that may or may not exist, and despite my father's voice in my head sterning "Calm down. You're just like your mother, chubby knees," I said, "I'm just reading!", as though she was about to ask, and smiled widely at her. I was automatically mortified and therefore I smiled wider. I'm pretty sure my face cracked and the purple of my gums was visible. She pursed and continued her trek upward. "I am awesome," I whispered to myself, as soon as she was safely out of the stairwell.

Whatever. Also today I stammered so hardcore in some taxpayer's face that I finally just laughed, closed my eyes, and pointed to where he needed to go. He went.

Lucero on my birthday. It's just a little bit of pain, you should turn and walk away.

I met a dog named Vinnie today. Perhaps Vinny. He's a boxer.

I had the talk with Lulu. She's old enough to know that boys are going to want to mount her. I told her to go with it, as she doesn't have any sexual organs anyway. Enjoy, I said. I could tell she knew what I was talking about and appreciated my frankness. I could also tell that she appreciated my fragrance, as I came home to a pair of my crumpled underwear in the middle of the living room, having been sundered by her tongue and paws. I'm still totally going to wear them. They're even more special, now.

On courage: "'I will have no man in my boat,' said Starbuck, 'who is not afraid of a whale.' By this, he seemed to mean, not only that the most reliable and useful courage was that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril, but that an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward."

Exactly.

Queen of Pain

2006-02-13T13:33:00.000-06:00

I just remembered, somewhat embarrassedly, that there is a star out there named Lindsay Hunter/K___ M_______. A lovely thing at the time, and if I twist my brain a bit it is still a lovely thing. Stars are outside of time because time is a manmade convention. That is, the passing of time. What once was beautiful is still beautiful, because it was.

Currently obsessing over a novel about obsession. A hearty name. The heart of the sea, the unfathomable deep. Moby Dick.

I need my brother to hear a song, but he's unavailable. This will be the hardest to forgive. "'I'm not crying wolf,' you whisper. 'I'm really dead this time. I'm really dead this time.'"

Ernest Hemingway woke up at 6 and wrote until noon, every single day. He sharpened ten pencils before writing the first word. When finished, he went to the bar. Was it Flaubert who wrote from 5 until 8 every morning, and, if finished with one novel during these three hours, simply turned over a page and began the next one? Mark Doty told me Virginia Woolf's writing desk in Sussex looked out onto a graveyard and the river in which she drowned herself. In the end, the graveyard was the river, the river the graveyard.

Gawd. God. There but for the grace of ____ go I.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. For you: please listen to Troublesome by the Jealous Sound. For you: please sink your teeth. For you: Valentine's Day covered by Portastatic. For you: superpowers. For you: the perfect vibrator.

Sometimes I think they come here
Just so you can say that you can
And I can't get alone in my bathroom
I need to give myself a hand

Fontanelle

2006-01-31T20:04:00.000-06:00

Been listening to Babes in Toyland (I almost wrote Banes in Toyland!!) a lot lately. My favorite verse: "My name is Gretel yeah, I've got a crotch that talks, it talks to all the cocks, it's been twelve city blocks you fucking bitch!" It makes me want to dig my guitar out and find the plug to my amp so I can D-tune and play some horrible metal chords. Alone. Kathleen and I were thisclose to forming a band called The Living Doll Disaster. Gaywads. We wrote one song and decided getting shitty and playing with boys was totally more fun, man.

I haven't been eating lately. I announce that to prevent myself from regressing back to Skeletor. I've recently had to force myself to eat. Does not bode well. I've already warned my sister and she got right on the case, astutely prescribing Valium to me over the telephone. Thanks, Addie. I'll get over it. My love affair with cupcakes and fine cheeses can't be over. We've only just met, I feel.

Why doesn't anyone say "Big whoop" anymore? That was like the harshest thing we could say to each other when we were growing up. Brother: "Look at this really accurate drawing of a pickle I just did." Me: "Big whoop." Brother shuffles back to room, head down. Me: (triumphant) "Yes!"

Everything is really vivid for me right now. Must be my strict adrenaline-only diet.