Urban Honking

The above represents the portion of my mind, in synapses, that is currently alotted for non-task-oriented thinking. Moving cross-country is a brain drain; whaddya know! Until I can form complete thoughts again, here are swatches of inspiration and resolve: “Don’t Fuck With My Babies,” Scream Club: FYR-style uprising: “I’m gonna stick that sexist bible right […]

Friends, I will be the first to own up to sociopolitical paranoia, which begins with casual yet constant freak-accident preparedness, and ends in an elaborate Masonic-nuclear vortex. * But this, this is almost unbelievable. Absurd. Really. Hi Dictatorship, packin’ mama

Here’s the lengthy rundown on the “Portland: home to mad 25-34-year-olds” economist/city planning panel in which I participated. One guess as to who made the comment, “You don’t have to buy into THE MAN.” What’s up, Pia Zadora. Scroll down to page seven, and a ridiculous staged party photo includes several fellow Urban Honkers pretending […]

Well. Hello, Willamette Week, blowing up my spot. Would I be breaking down the fourth wall if I asked you folks to come over and help me pack? PS I love the Paragon. My doppelganger, Nicky G (ex- of Nicky G & the Groadies), hosts karaoke there every other Wednesday. Next karaoke date: July 21, […]

Unpacking all my warez for either sale or shipment is indeed the culling of long-lost treasure. The wound-up funk and clench of Creme Org./Bunker tour burn 2003, for one, still gives me a nasty case of TMJ–may god lift up those boys Legowelt and Bangkok Impact for day and night eternal, in their hybrid bug-cars […]

Dear Omaha (Emoha), Future generations shall be stunted by the dysfunctionality of love-relations scenarios in your music. We know it’s true. When I posed this to my recently heartbroken friend, he admitted, “I conducted my relationships in high school based on BLACK FLAG lyrics. That is how I thought things were supposed to be.” At […]

If emo dudes can drop a whole catalogue every time they get dumped (or divorced), I think we can give a little leeway to the moms of the world for letting up on the feedback after they’ve birthed actual humans from their vaginal canals. The end. P.S. Two years on, DJ Greg Street is officiating […]

tonight, jay’s warehouse party, sifted through concept photos for his new black metal band (which include centaur costume, face paint, dagger and magick foot-long key) while colin meloy played solo acoustic joanna newsom covers (“oh, my loooove”), flanked by 1. 40 people, reverently cross-legged on concrete 2. dave CATS‘ new billboard-sized mural—a scraggy rendition of […]

p.s. it was Chuck Palahniuk.

My coworker Katie: “Did you ever get in trouble for the part in your book where Margaret Thatcher comes into the restaurant where you work, and you masturbate into her food?” Jonathan Ames: “I didn’t write that.” Katie: “Are you sure? I’ve been telling everyone to read your book because that part is so funny.” […]