Crash

Monday, 24 November 2003

the ped­als go
the ped­als go

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huff pump lean
go ped­als go

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ROCK

   a…
   i…
   r…

grav­el­green
grass­grunt

   b
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   e
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   h
   e

burn shins bleed
snick­snick­snick
the wheel goes
the wheel goes

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snick­snick — Up!
the ped­als go

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Flat Tire

i work with two rap­pers. this is com­plete­ly un­forseen, but i sup­pose not un­wel­come. Augy is the dri­ver, and his rap name is A.U.G. for Always Underground game. he is a big­ger dude, about my height but may­be a deuce and a quar­ter. he’s pret­ty qui­et and shy un­less you joke around enough and talk about the sales man­ager.

Chango is the night du­pli­ca­tor, my re­place­ment in the af­ter­noons. Apparently Chango means ‘baby go­ril­la’ in Spanish — a nick­name from his child­hood. Now it is his rap name. A.U.G. and Chango have song called Underground Thugz. I heard it to­day. I’ve on­ly seen Chango on­ce, on my first day. Despite the fact that he has worked at this place for ap­prox­i­mate­ly four and a half years, he still doesn’t know how to do cer­tain ba­sic tasks like box­ing, la­bel­ing, or even do­ing dou­ble pass­es on es­pe­cial­ly large or­ders. Lots of in­ter­est­ing things seem to hap­pen to Chango. Friday was an es­pe­cial­ly nice day in the up­per 60s and thought this has no ob­vi­ous cor­re­la­tion to the fact that he called in sick with a twist­ed an­kle, the du­pli­ca­tor i am re­plac­ing seemed to think dif­fer­ent­ly. Today Chango called in to say he was go­ing to be late be­cause he had a flat tire in Paineville. per­haps this is a metaphor for his al­leged swol­len an­kle, or per­haps it is true, i don’t know him well enough to judge. At this rate, I nev­er well. Chango has a lot of flat tires.

*UPDATE*
crash po­em.

Present

Saturday, 22 November 2003

This is what I got for my birth­day. Made by my bud­dy Brian Stone.

 Adore/Eye of Night

An enor­mous­ly gi­gan­tic ver­sion can be found here.

The Shins

Friday, 21 November 2003

So I just found out to­day that The Shins played in Cleveland 3 days ago. I could have seen them for $15. Motherfucker.

Liminal

Thursday, 20 November 2003

Today I have en­tered a new phase in my life. Not on­ly have I turned a whop­ping 23, but I start­ed a re­al­ly re­al world job do­ing video du­pli­ca­tion. I am no longer in some sort of post-grad­u­ate lim­i­nal lim­bo. I’ve got some­thing that will pay the bills, gives me health in­sur­ance and a 401(k). on­ce i’ve paid off some of my debts, this will al­low me to pur­sue what­ev­er en­deav­ors i choose to pur­sue in my spare time. Its a very nice birth­day present.

oth­er than that, twen­ty-three doesn’t do a whole lot for me.

Short Story

Tuesday, 18 November 2003

Dear girl who I on­ce knew,

It’s a shame we nev­er hooked up. The Lord knows I want­ed to. All those times we spent hang­ing out [with all that ten­sion hang­ing be­tween us] we should have done some­thing about it. I used to look at your hair or your eyes or the arch in your back and want to hold hold hold you. I would think about what it would be like to wake up with your hair tick­ling my face, and I’d try to fig­ure out how I would dis­en­tan­gle legs with­out dis­turbing you. Just break­fast and close­ness. Those could have been good times. Then things end­ed, high school, col­lege, sum­mer va­ca­tions and we were left with no time for any­thing more than a wist­ful good­bye.

Of course you prob­a­bly saw things a bit dif­fer­ent­ly.

3 Things

Tuesday, 11 November 2003

1. I ran my car in­to a tree.
2. WCSB is a hel­lu­va good col­lege ra­dio sta­tion. They stream too.
3. Come hell or high wa­ter, Glazen Creative will hire me.

Believe it or not all of the­se are re­lat­ed.

I was dri­ving my reel to Glazen and lis­ten­ing to WCSB as I was ex­it­ing I-90 to­ward East 9th Street. I was brak­ing around on the ramp when in­stead of an­ti-lock­ing, as they are wont to do, my brakes an­ti-an­ti-locked i spun 90 de­grees, slid to­ward the edge of the road and when I hit dirt I slammed on the brakes and swung the wheel, putting me back on course, al­beit on the grass em­bank­ment. My for­ward mo­men­tum suc­cess­ful­ly dis­tract­ed, my car mere­ly slid down a bit and hit a tree. A small tree.

The net re­sult, a ding on the side of my car, and align­ment knocked out from here to the Lesser Magellanic Cloud.

Its a good thing this is the right time of year to be a Scorpio.
Its al­so a good thing I had a chat with Jehovah this morn­ing.
I don’t nec­es­sar­i­ly know if it is a good thing or not, but my pact with the le­gions of hell might of had some­thing to do with it as well.