January 2010
109 posts
Became a South African citizen, then years later I moved back to America.
In my dream, I told everyone that I was an African-American.
What does that mean?
When I’m drunk, I will write this in bar bathrooms. The other variation is,
“Fuck Art, Lets Kill!”
The first time I saw it I was at the Crocodile, in Seattle…the old one, not the remodel. Though, the remodel was pretty darn good. I just wish I could go into the bar without paying for the shows I don’t want to see.
- A conversation from the night of my latest Post-a-Pic Wed.
- ---------------
- Matt: So, is she coming?
- Me: Ya, I think so. She sounded kinda drunk though.
- Matt: Sweet, it's only ten, we have allot more drinking to do. Do you think she will last?
- Me: I can vouch for her.
- Matt: *Turns, looks at Abby, looks back at me* Is she your type?
- Me: Ya, I actually had a thing with her for awhile.
- Matt: *Turns to Abby* I bet she will be wearing converse.
- Abby: Hahaha! Probably! Lets wait and see.
- Me: I don't only like girls who wear converse! All types of girls wear converse!
- Amy: *Runs up* Jeremy! *Hugs*
- *Matt, Abby, and I look at her shoes, they are some type of flat.*
- Me: Amy! ...oh, and btw, Matt...HA!
- Amy: Can you guys wait a second? I need to change my shoes. My feet are killing me!
- Amy: *Whips out a pair of converse, puts them on.*
- Matt and Abby: *Look at each-other* OH! MY! GOD! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
- Me: Wow...Lets get some whiskey!
Just kidding! Like that would happen.
Roll On, by Simon Joyner
My mom is an identical twin, my dad is a paternal twin, and I’m not…but I’m a Gemini!
Peace, Love, and Cheese,
Jeremy D.
(Via/baitandswitch)
it often happens when the party is
going well,
somebody will say, “wait a minute, that
reminds me, I heard this
joke, it will only take a minute and I
promise not to tell
more than one.”
he leans forward and begins to tell
it, and this is the worst part because
you know it will not be funny, and even worse
than that, not even plausible, but he goes
on as your stomach feels as if you had
eaten a rotten egg, your reach the punch
line long before he gets to it, then he
finishes,
looks about.
there is silence, no laughter, not even
a smile.
“wait,” he says, “don’t you get it?”
“I understand,” I tell him.
then he leans back, thinks that I
have no sense of humor, have had a
bad day, or that he has overestimated my
intelligence.
he could be right on all counts, I know
that I often watch famous comedians
who make millions tell awful jokes
while the audience roars with
appreciation and across the nation
numberless others join in from their
living rooms
as I sit there and think, this
stuff is bad, very bad, there’s
little doubt about
it.
yet some drunk sits in a room
with me
and is offended because I
don’t roll on the rug
when he lays a
dead egg that makes even
the gods
cringe.
but they are never offended
enough not to return
and toss in a new joke as bad
as the first, or worse,
returning to the first,
having forgotten the previous
agony.
in all my decades of joke-
listening
I’ve only heard one that is
worthwhile,
it goes like this—
no wait, I’ve forgotten
it.
you’re
lucky.
(Via/ionicbreed)
What I am working on. This is one of the rough mixes from a week back.
What Aaron, my roomate from College, is working on. He was the Assistant Engineer on the last two Animal Collective releases. I’m pretty sure this is his personal stuff, meaning this is him recording, writting, and performing.