I know it’s currently the politically correct term for anyone who isn’t white but I’d be just as happy to see the phrase “people of colour” and its variants disappear. It erases my racial/cultural identity as handily as the most vociferous racism and co-opts my agreement/solidarity without my consent.
For the next week, Sandman Slim 1-5 and DEAD SET are on sale: $4.99 for trade PB and $2.99 for ebook.
[you guys!! these books are soooo much fun!]
yesterday while having a quick chat with one if the guys who works for me, he and i talked about our favorite kind of boxes. a large portion of my job is receiving and sending packages; i am versatile at work.
also yesterday, finally got the call about the job i applied for and i didn’t get it. oh, but am i gonna spend today sulking!
i am trying to read YOU SHALL KNOW OUR VELOCITY! and i can’t focus. i am trying to read MADWOMAN OF THE SACRED HEART and i cannot understand what i’m reading.
it’s just after 8:30pm and i can’t sleep and i work at 1:30am tomorrow. it’s not insomnia, not really.
it’s been almost two months since i applied for that job i want, and about one month since that initial interview. there is chatter of something happening near columbus circle next year, so if the puerto rico thing doesn’t happen, i will stay in new york for the foreseeable future.
typing into my phone seems so outdated.
am drinking a beer and wondering how long 1600 words will take me to write. probably not long, but i want them to make sense.
god, you know that girl from spring? rikki? tell her i said hi.
i should move.
am so sick of my family being so defeated. there is a point in life when perseverance turns in obstinance and no one wins. wish the family knew that. my father sounded awful last time I saw him. he said he’s realized recently how all the dreams he’s had in life will die with him. that is do sad to hear, but the realist nature of the realization makes sense, dreams are for people who sleep.
next day off, i’m fucking.
another thing that i think i love about new york is how often i might be corralled into doing something awful but there’re a ton of reasons to do something better. this last sentence made more sense in my head.
i am too lazy to look for the exact dates but the new alejandro gonzalez inarritu and new david fincher films are out…
…which brings me to, a few days ago, a friend did *not* want to go to the bar with me so he said we should go see a movie and i went because it was rush hour and i was already in the upper west side (i know how awful this sounds, yes), and we saw that dreadful This Is Where I Leave You, and afterward, i was waiting for him to ask me what i thought of it only he didn’t. at one point i forced into conversation a “you haven’t said anything about that movie; guess it means you didn’t like it. i hated it.” what an asshole i am.
but it was so shitty, so don’t see it.
it’s been twenty minutes since i started this post.
the other night while out having drinks a friend said he’s all but stopped having protected sex. of course, i was a bit shocked because this is a guy who, whenever he mentions fucking, the word “safe” always pops up. until last week. i asked him why and he said he isn’t sure, he’s maybe trusting his partners. in my brain, however, is this thing where i’m yelling at him saying these are random dudes he barely knows. but i don’t actually say it, i just listen.
he says he used to always use protection, but recently, and only in new york (he’s from dallas by way of oklahoma), he’s stopped. he just got screened, he said, and is free and clear. and he fucks without protection.
he and i, since we’ve known each other, we say we’ve a no judgment rule when we talk about the bullshit we do, and given me, who would i be to castigate him for doing what he wants. i did ask him if it was a physical or mental pleasure thing but he said he didn’t know. i told him that for me it became a physical thing: all sensation, all abandon, and now i found myself where i am.
a few weeks back one of the folk i follow posted his initial positive hiv test results. pictured above is mine, about seven years ago now. how awful that day was. and my newest friend now telling me this. in the span of a few days it was a lot.
so i dug out the picture above, and a post from my defunct personal blog. it all makes me think, again, about personal responsibility, the saddest day in my life, and how good life can feel physically. i’m thinking about what we’re willing to do, and why we trust strangers with our lives.
any day, i trust everyone in a car to not run me down. is this any different? in either case, our conversation made me sad. i’m still thinking about it. i wonder how he feels about it.
last week we took the train to queens for work, and i showed him i posted my test results over on instagram. a lot of people who know me but not that detail about me follow me there. what do they think? fuck it.
"there is always an unhappy ending."
was it 2007?
in venice at some book store i don’t think exists anymore, i bought a first edition of A HEARTBREAKING WORK OF STAGGERING GENIUS because i lent my first copy to someone who never read or returned it. think i paid $100 for it. opened it because I’m on an eggers trip and on page 175 are two photos of someone’s kids.
and somehow, this seems deliberate. and appropriate.
while i love my job, the last month and a half’s been full of 79+ hour weeks and little recompense. but it’s all strategy, and no one makes me do what i do; i am bad at life.
and new york, as much as i love it, man, i need a fucking break, you know?
a few weeks ago, a friend and i were talking about being happy with life, and i realized that while not fully satisfied, i don’t long for anything. i don’t feel like there’s anything missing from my days. we talked about relationships, fun, friendships, family, all of that. all of which i’m okay without right now: everything i do is for and about me.
don dellilo in UNDERWORLD: “Longing in a grand scale makes history.” fuck you, don.
about a week ago, the same friend and i were walking to the train and we were talking about that again and i mentioned how i must have every day i get be the happiest day. i said if i died at that very moment, i’d die happy because i’d a stomach full of good food, saw a good bad movie, had good company, a few bucks in my pocket, and the waiter at the joint we’d just left smiled at me.
never die longing for anything.
this is a picture i deleted off instagram because i can.
THE CIRCLE read like a mystery story whose plot was in every page. turns out it wasn’t a mystery so much as a clear indication - like douglas coupland’s PLAYER ONE, and warren ellis & raulo caceres’s DOKTOR SLEEPLESS, and douglas rushkoff’s PRESENT SHOCK - of what is and what i and you as individuals and as a group are willing to accept about life.
it is mostly a parable for how horrible we are, and near-sighted, and disaffected. we think we know what we want even after people die for what we want.
by the end, i hated mae.
i applied for a job in san juan, puerto rico over the weekend and the head of operations of the east coast called me. pretty certain this is all pretty boring to you, but i’m pretty jazzed about the possibility.
i used the word “adventure” during the conversation.
also, i mentioned i’d return to nyc by 2018.
I’ve been working on something and the first rule is: You don’t talk about it…I will be on the FIGHT CLUB panel with Chuck Palahniuk & director David Fincher this Saturday at San Diego Comicon. I will be signing the new MUSE art book (in ltd supply) at Century Guild booth# 2845 Wed-Sunday. And a signing with Chuck & the Fight Club crew on Sunday. I’ll be doing all the cover art for Fight Club (10 issues). Here is the teaser image… which may just be available as a limited edition print at the signing I’m doing with Chuck at SDCC. Shhh.
But Chuck Palahniuk talks about it here on USA Today:
corey’s been the only one who’s ever supported me writing. he’s lovely.
trying to write a thing - have been for almost two months - and it’s so fucking difficult because i can’t seem to get it right, can’t stop being so self-referential, and the words simply taste stale, you know? anyway, still at it, and when i begin to tell a story, i imagine no one ever wants to hear it, only none of us know that until after the story is done being told (or read, i suppose.). so what then?
here’s a list of everything i’ve read so far in 2014:
everything is perfect when you’re a liar by kelly oxford
girlfriend in a coma by douglas coupland
powers bureau volume 1 by brian michael bendis & michael avon oeming
young avengers: style>substance by kieron gillen & jamie mckelvie
young avengers: alternative cultures by kieron gillen & jamie mckelvie
saga volume three by brian k vaughan & fiona staples
young avengers: mic-drop at the edge of time and space by kieron gillen & jamie mckelvie
worst. person. ever. by douglas coupland
playing the whore: the work of sex work by melissa gira grant
satellite sam volume one by matt fraction & howard chaykin
nemo: the roses of berlin by alan moore & kevin o’neill
captain swing and the electrical pirates of cindery island by warren ellis & raulo caceres
scarlet by brian michael bendis & alex maleev
sex criminals volume one by matt fraction & chip zdarsky
blindness by jose saramago
pretty deadly volume one by kelly due deconnick & emma rios
flex mentallo by grant morrison & frank quitely
african psycho by alain mabanckou
not a star by nick hornby
sailor twain or the mermaid of the hudson by mark siegel
horns by joe hill
by chance or providence by becky cloonan
open city by teju cole
escapo by paul pope
the truth is a cave in the black mountains by neil gaiman & eddie campbell
the massive: subcontinental by brian wood et al
your fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live forever? by dave eggers
prophet: remission by brandon graham, simon roy, farel dalrymple, giannis milonogiannis
planetary: spacetime archaeology by warren ellis & john cassaday
prophet: brothers by brandon graham, simon roy, farel dalrymple, giannis milonogiannis
the beautiful thing that awaits us all and other stories by laird barron
seconds by bryan lee o’malley
"What do you want to build? The world’s already built."
- dave eggers, YOUR FATHERS, WHERE ARE THEY? AND THE PROPHETS, DO THEY LIVE FOREVER?
am simply susceptible to liking eggers, i am.
but in here is one of those stories that rings so true - whether fiction or not - that it is difficult to ignore. conversations between a man and the people he kidnaps, and it can’t be more obvious than that. and it is, but the subtleties with which eggers moves each conversation kind of remind me of the conversations i’ve had while looking in a mirror: no one is privy to them, but i bet you’ve had them too.
does it matter whether it’s nature or nurture? i think the argument is that no, it doesn’t matter because at some point everything you are is because of what you are. there aren’t plans and schemes for you out in the universe.
probably the most direct talk anyone’s had with me since douglas coupland’s MISS WYOMING and chuch palaniuk’s FIGHT CLUB. whatever, pretentious, me.
favorite book of 2014.
today the weather is awful: hot and humid. i walked all over the city and sweat through my jeans. i read from several books, read some comics, and ate mexican food. was also insanely hungover.
while at lunch, we were texting about some nonsense and the idea hit me.
before the last train home, i read from the new dave eggers, YOUR FATHERS, WHERE ARE THEY? AND THE PROPHETS, DO THEY LIVE FOREVER?
am walking up to my apartment, dripping sweat, and think and smile at the “you’re the best” in my phone.
the best thing i did today was bring her strawberries.
Unknown Pleasures came out 35 years ago today.