I'm just a little person (Peroni)

I used to carry around a ship that was built inside me. I could not get it out. And then I met you. But even then, sometime later there was a germination of sorts. I achieved the extraordinary ability to dismantle my stowaway, plank by plank, and carry it out to the water-hot streets; and to the farms of spit and smoke; and to the cigarette-sandwich-eating burlap-bodies on corners whose hands are pushed into last pockets; and to frost-bitten cars in lonely lots where some tears stream for a reason or for none; and to a cliché we’ve seen once or twice, shook hands with or wanted to make love to. My greenhouse gas personality dissipates; the sun beams touch my blues and greens and browns; the radiation is a gorgeous and miraculous feat. The buoyancy of a blink is the tick and the tock. 

But shivering on the porch of the little dipper: thinking on a myth. 

"Somewhere, maybe someday. Maybe somewhere far away...Let's have some fun."

Happy New Year

Last Lines For Today

This song is really beautiful. 

If you choose to listen to this 

and watch the accompanying 

images, imagine finding those 

models in a dimly lit basement 

with wood paneling walls and a 

corner of the room has tennis 

shoes in it.

No socks near by. Just tennis shoes. 

Things are always tacitly creepier 

when links in the chain of reason are absent. 

No socks. Just shoes. Some old. Some new.

It's the perfect tune for

a porch under

Spanish Moss, gritting

at the sand in

your teeth

Let's Go To Cuba

"Currently, the National Lawyers Guild and the Center for Constitutional Rights provide legal representation for U.S. citizens accused of violating the Cuban travel ban." -- wikiTravel


Who's ready to go to Cuba? I know I am. And we better go soon before President Obama does the smart thing and clears travel restrictions. Why?

1. McDonald's, KFC, Pizza Hut, etc.

That shit is going to be EVERYWHERE once trade and travel bans are lifted. Not only are the fast food chains going to move in, but Hilton and Hard Rock will buy up beautiful hotels and restaurants and make eye sores out of them. Of course this is just a symptom of the larger problem of commercialization that would plague the island.

2. Tons of other tourists

They're going to be in the way. You're going to hear them complaining about the food. You're going to hear them being condescending to people in the service industry. Your fellow Americans will be there, increasing the volume and decreasing the speed of their English with the great expectation the hotel staff will understand their request/demand.

3. It won't be a sneaky mission

Currently, U.S. citizens have to sneak their way into Cuba by flying from Canada, Mexico or the Bahamas. My aunt would call this "going around your ass to get to your elbow." There is an added thrill to this sort of adventure that would transcend the place itself.

Other projections for a post-Obamafied Cuba?

• Everyone in America starts smoking Cuban cigars as if the one's from Cuba do not possess the same qualities that keep folks from smoking cigars normally.
• Cuban culture-worship enjoys a spike in white, hipster communities leading to an unintentionally-ironic decline of Che Guavara paraphernalia and more Conga-themed acoustic folk-rock albums.
  
• El Pollo Loco rebrands itself as a Cuban Cusine fast-food chain and begins selling empanadas and plantains (kinda can't wait for this one, yall).

What else might happen if the U.S. ceases to be a dick to Cuba?

Build a better metaphor

I had a moment of synchronicity last night when I was watching Mtv's "The Hills" when Audrina said, "I just don't like who I've become. I don't even know who I am anymore." I laughed at first because claims of "not knowing myself" always seem like empty ploys to garner pity from others and to deflect fault from one’s self for the state of unhappiness. Nevertheless, it came to my attention that I have been feeling the same way. It's totally one of those David Byrne moments where I am thinking, “how did I get here” and I am just not sure how to work this. If it wasn't for ‘this’ or ‘that’ I might garnish more of my time with champagne and indie films in small theaters that smell of old cigarettes and hairspray and popcorn mingling with the faintest perfume of a curry someone has snuck in. But what would we be without wishful thinking?

But enough of the bad. I have been writing comedy. I bought some index cards and I tell myself I have to fill up one a day. It's a manageable task. And while it may seem small, it's better than rarely filling up two notebook pages of material. I should get my license back in a couple weeks and then I will be trying out my awesomely terrible material in LA. Sometimes I feel like my material is really bad, but it seems like I do best around strangers. For instance, I had some strangers at the DMV rolling about doing a whiskey bong and having a homeless hold the funnel for me. The whiskey bong does not sound funny on paper, at least not to me. But you had to be there. And that’s a hallmark of mine: feeding off a crowd of people and their expectations. “Here we are now, entertain us” is how I think of most strangers. They’re not really asking to be entertained, but I want them to be. Perhaps “here I am now, allow me to entertain you” is a better way of putting it.

I am trying to have patience. I have a plan. I can see the future unfolding before me and it is methodical; it is encumbered by its vices: it is prevailing despite them before the alt(a)(e)r of its humanity. Like grass growing in the brick crags of vacant office space, I offer myself up in part to chance and to the sun; to the mettle of my minerals (found and forgetting); to evening and to Death, who is waiting in every shadow: reveling likewise in our every laugh.

Love y'all,

The Anthonynaut