Birthdays are weird. I’ve always been of two minds about them.
Casual rambles, short stories and poetry done casually
Birthdays are weird. I’ve always been of two minds about them.
Early spring is a weird time in Portland. Technically, the majority of March is still a month of winter. And yet, two-thirds through the month, the spring equinox hits. Temperatures spike, the sun cleaves the clouds, and cherry blossoms begin to bloom on the waterfront.
I would have been remiss if I didn’t write something about this album. I’ve listened to largely nothing but IC-02 Bogotá through the week. These are my thoughts.
I mounted a soapbox for this one, but sometimes you have to.
I ordered stickers. And I think that’s where I went wrong.
On Tuesday last week, I went to the March 4 Democracy protest. It started at noon, but I was writing until four in the morning before the protest. The second reason was because I wanted to take my time walking to the demonstration. I took so many that I was up till six the next […]
It was a devious ploy. A salty intrigue. But alas, it ended as it only could have: me having to get off my fat arse and doing something.
Well, I nearly though this wouldn’t happen. I looked over all of my poems and thought to myself: “god damn, these are all crap.”
I did not start writing this blog post until 4AM in the morning. Apologies if I’m a bit wistful about times long past.
I read books funny. What I mean is that my way of reading books is funny. And what I mean by that is my rhythm of reading is just downright absurd. That includes how I finished up “Stay True” by Hua Hsu.