Creepy Old Guy

I don’t know how I missed you being a creep from the start. Your park ranger hat and fake limp should have given it away. But, I was blinded. I was blinded by compassion toward your loneliness. I felt for your sad life. Per your description, your 65 years on Earth was without family or real connection to another human being. Your vulnerability in opening up and telling our a Capella group how you have not had a place to go for the holidays in decades broke our hearts.

Reports of My Death...

I’m in Cancun, Mexico with Dana as you read this. Which means I can’t grab you for coffee or a sandwich right now. Because I’m lounging in the sand with the most most wonderful human being in the known universe.

That said, when we get back, expect an invitation to spend some time. In person. Like humans are supposed to do.

Advice and Wisdom to Baby Himmel

Hello, Baby Himmel. Right now, you are a newborn baby with promise and wonder and a skull that isn’t fully formed. The world is weird and scary for you right now, and your kneecaps are only cartilage. But, you know what? You actually remind me a lot of myself. You sleep 16 hours a day, you cry constantly for no apparent reason and you love sucking titties. It is because of this kinship between us that I thought I would give you some of the advice and wisdom that I have picked up in my years being alive. 

"Here's My Heart": Braid's 'Frame & Canvas' Turns 20

The songs were about being in a state of certain uncertainty. A place of transition with the balls to step up and have no fear of fucking it all up. The songs were about girls and friends and getting older and being younger and parents and longing and having and missing and distance and places and things and giving a shit and not giving a shit at all.

Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of April 1, 2018

• On the first of the month, I engage in that superstitions tradition of saying “rabbit, rabbit” when I first wake up, before I say anything else. When one does this, one is resigned to have good luck throughout that month. On Sunday, April 1, 2018, the first thing I said was not, “rabbit, rabbit.” I said, “Fuckinggoddammit, Harry! What is your fucking deal? I just changed you. You just ate. Is it gas? Do you have to fart? Jesus fucking Christ, calm down, please!” As a result, I’m gravely concerned over what my luck will be like this month.