skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I can see my navel from here.
Followers
La nostalgie de la boue.
- Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
- The Gutter, WA, United States
- My friend Betsy once told me that the shape of my hands accurately reflects my aesthetic. The mildly horrific part about my life and my writing is that I'm discovering I don't feel that I have anything useful to say about myself. I finally have this fantastic grasp on my identity, and I really just don't have a thing to say! It's a hilarious nightmare of an artist statement. The only other thing you should know about me is that the title of this blog is from my one-act play, "Space".
- Absurd Reality Theatre.
- Andie DeRoux's Website.
- ArtsJournal.
- Baddins Design.
- Base Line Whammy Bars.
- Because You Care What I Think (Don't You?).
- Betsy Makes Things.
- Cooper Journal.
- Fantagraphics.
- Gluten-Free Girl.
- I Make Cute Stuff!
- Implexus.
- Mike Daisey's Blog.
- My Caps Lock Is On: Dom Zook's Blog.
- NAMI.
- Obameter.
- PostSecret.
- Princess Vagabond: Patricia Rusconi's Blog.
- Scissors, Paper, Glue.
- Slate.
- Slog.
- Strangers in Paradise.
- Sylvia Has A Problem.
- The Holy Bible.
- The Nomadic Portfolio.
- The Tens: a Metablog (TBTL related)
- Theater Puget Sound.
- Tokyo City Blues.
- Too Beautiful To Live.
- Train of Thought Sketch Comedy.
- Trrill.
- whitehouse.gov
Blog Archive
-
▼
2007
(44)
-
▼
November
(22)
- Hot.
- More soup!
- Re: No fat Kiwis.
- Re: Changing names.
- Thank you.
- On third thought...
- Buried alive.
- Strangers when we meet.
- Just a picture today.
- Less sick now.
- Re: Coming Home.
- Re: Meth Labs.
- Did you know?
- For example, this is how sick I've been:
- Meth Labs: Ruining Influenza for Sober People Sinc...
- Dream girl.
- Why don't you marry a nice shiksa instead?
- Kill me.
- Kissing disease.
- Good Morning!
- Boo.
- Dia de los Muertos.
-
▼
November
(22)
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning----