Your Daily Absurdity

At the CanCan you have to pay extra to get in and see the show, and so instead, frugally, we are sitting at the bar. Curtained off, dimly lit, drinking sazeracs. I try to tell you how I keep falling in and out of love with the idea of God, but it's so difficult to string along a series of sentences when out of the corner of my eye I see a bare-assed man and out of the corner of my ear I hear the song "I'm Every Woman" start to play. So I shut up, then, which I think is what you probably wanted anyways.

In My Dream Last Night (My Stupid Human Brain pt. II)

Jon Hamm calls me distressed and he's using that wounded animal voice we all love and celebrate Jon Hamm for and he says to me, "I really need a friend right now, Andrew." As he talks about his existential blues I try so, so hard to listen to what he has to say, to get at the meat and potatoes the words obscure, but my stupid human brain is betraying me again, and instead of being the friend Jon Hamm needs right now I am thinking, "Oh my god, this is it. If I do a good job listening, Jon Hamm and I will forever be best friends. Confidants, even. He will speak to me of ennui and I will tell him it is okay, you are so beautiful, Jon Hamm. On the weekends he will ask me to play lawn games with him and maybe we will buy matching sweaters and even maybe we will hang out with Elisabeth Moss. Okay. Focus. Listen deeply. Don't let anything distract you from Jon Hamm." But of course all this inner monologuing has completely distracted me from Jon Hamm and Jon Hamm's pain, and I realize all too late that the other end of the line is bone silent, that Jon Hamm has been waiting for my guidance and advice for I don't know how long. And so this is how I wake up: in a cold sweat, tangled in my sheets, ashamed of all the things I have failed to become.

Nothing to do on a Saturday night and I've inherited like three dozen 1970s National Geographics and so I

Made this

A Matter of Perspective

It doesn't matter if you went in looking for a new haircut – after all the snipping and buzzing and brushing it's always your jawline that's changed.

Feel Free

Feel free, my optometrist says, to rest your chin on the chin rest. Feeling free, I do exactly that. We do the binaries together. Better one, better two? Choice A, choice B? I feel free when he asks me to read the bottom line, and I feel free when I wash my hands and put in a new pair of contacts. He is lucky to have caught me on such a good day. Without a heart of grace and the ecstatic shrugging off of all of life's baggage, that eye puff test can be one tricky bitch.

Something was wrong with my Christmas candy and like a chump I tried to make some sense of it along with everything else on this dark, dark planet

I bit into you, caramel filled Lindt truffle, and except for a second of slick milk chocolate, I tasted only air. Were you trying to teach me something about expectations? Were you trying to teach me something about the impermanence of the given moment? I want you to know I didn't learn anything from you, hungry as I was, reaching into a bag of peanut butter cups.

For Future Reference

When Drew makes a noise like a pirate sea captain it means there are no beautiful women near us. In my life I am eating oranges to fight off the scurvy.

Dear Sir

Do you know what you are making of yourself, sitting by the pond in Cal Anderson and watching the ducks and actually in real life on your iPhone's portable speaker extension listening to "The Sounds of Silence"?