27 Aug

Have to write something family friendly so I don’t miss a month in archives. Point of pride. Done this over five years and if you look on the bottom right you’ll see not a month missed. In the beginning not a day missed. I’m a god damn institution. Continue reading

What’s Out There

30 Jul


Three years later he still looked at her Facebook. Once every six months. Violet. She was in a relationship. Formally engaged or not was hard to tell. That section of About Me was blank. She’d had to look available for her career. Often key decision makers were still men.

But they went on trips together. Resorts insulated from global unrest. Engaged in all but name. The fiance had been a photographer. Now Creative Director for a lifestyle brand famously run by a DisruptHer/ She-EO. His early work made it look like he fucked the models. You don’t become a photographer to take pictures. She still worked for the ad agency. An early adopter of La Croix. No doubt they’d moved on past pamplemousse, an apres-garde flavor.

She was still beautiful. When he felt bad enough he’d stop looking. Continue reading

Stay Anon, Stay Safe

9 Jul
annie anonymity

Annie, the Anemone of Online Anonymity

Here’s an “Editor’s Note:” I got doxed. I’m making some archives private. Don’t know how long.

Am I selling out? Is my new shit going to be a hostage video?

We’ll see.

I’d wanted to back off my shtick. Start with a new name. Publish a few things I’m proud of. Focus on the book. Not like this, but still– maybe it will be good for me.

Some posts are in books. Others gone for now. Might not give out the password. Making shit scarce and using that scarcity for rainy day money has an appeal, suddenly. Continue reading


6 Jul

Are you surprised I’m here, said Belinda. Mexican girls don’t date white boys. Au contraire, he said, I’ve had every one in town but you. Not the real ones, she said. I bet their parents spoke English.

She’d fucked her tattoo artist for three years. He was 44, married, someone snitched to the wife who then called Belinda’s mother. I want you to know your daughter’s a whore, she said. I’m going to tell your whole family. I’m going to go around your neighborhood, tell everybody. She did.

The tattoo artist came in her every time. She thought she couldn’t get pregnant. He said he’d meet her when she got the abortion. He posted on Instagram from a bar instead. He had eight other women he was sleeping with. The wife still doesn’t know.

When she finished the story he went to move her hair to kiss her. And she said: not on the first date.

The God of the Mockingbirds

17 Jun


In February the mockingbird had to start singing. He woke up the whole neighborhood.

When the sunlight was long enough a part of his brain grew. It made him listen to other birds’ songs around him. He’d memorize them. Then perch up as high as he could go. Yell them as loudly as he could. He wanted to do this like he wanted to breathe. There were about five kinds of birds that sang in the neighborhood. Sparrows. He’d sing their five songs over and over. Continue reading

Protected: Don’t Work

17 Jun

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Protected: Morning Diary: You Can All Suck My Dick

3 Jun

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