7 years ago today, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows hit bookshelves
My friends Juan and Stephanie bought the book and promptly went to The Cheesecake Factory at the top of Macy’s in downtown SF and didn’t say a goddam word to each other besides ordering food. And that was to the waiter, who in turn looked at us like we were freaks.
I bought it at midnight at the Barnes and Noble on 6th & 21st, walked to Park to catch the 6 and got through about a hundred pages by the time we got to my stop at 116th. The whole train car was watching me, I think. Someone asked how it was and I just said ‘what?!’ and then literally ran home to keep reading it.
I was at the Scholastic Store with two friends. We were fourth in line, right in front of an old Honduran guy who had carved a lightning bolt into his head with a razor.
We were AHEAD of the guy who carved a lightning bolt into his head.
Went straight home to my first ever Brooklyn apartment and found my roommates throwing a big party. Smiled real big, grabbed a handful of beers, and ignored them all night.
A well-rolled joint, a bigass Gatorade, and thou.
We’re at the Hotel Scraped Knees,
we are asleep in God’s plan, we’re
with each other in the ribcage
of the image of night. Our
in the spring; Happy Halloween
it is the Fourth of July. Let’s
celebrate, you say, strapped
for youth, shook to dust,
my job just sent this fun lil email:
"We have recently received complaints from several customers that their delivery guys have been out of uniform"
this is probably just bullshit to reinforce policy, but, considering our clientele, oddly believable:
"We have recently received complaints from several customers that their delivery guys could not be immediately identified as safe black people"
"We have recently received complaints from several customers that their delivery guys were allowed to walk around without colors marking themselves as poor"
just a friendly reminder that literally no 100k “YOURE THE PROBLEM” social justice post has ever mentioned class for even one second, for reasons that make you laugh if only to keep yourself from screaming
my half brother is a fighter pilot
and a war hero
and a decorated combat veteran
with over 1500 flight hours
in iraq and afghanistan
and now he works for the pentagon
and he has an important counterterrorism title
and he sits at long tables
Katherine Osborne accepted one of my poems, and that is the literal meaning of Christmas In July.
somestupidpoemsyoujerks.tumblr.com is where all the new stuff goes and all the old stuff has migrated!
yo all the adults have gone to bed and i am hanging with two twelve year olds and a nine year old right now and
it is embarrassing how much i am worried about seeming cool
I love bits (love them, I go to the mat for bits, bits are fun and ease social interaction and aid friendship building and teach game and make you less of a stuffy butt butt) BUT I also look you in the eye and connect to you as a human. It bugs me when I can’t find that connection with someone, when I look at them in the eye and only see closed off bit-brain. Rubs me the wrong way, despite my love for bits. Ideally, you use both for fun and profit and learning and being a human!!!!
oh heck oh dear oh god oh yes.
you get three back-and-forth tags of a single idea before we have stopped having fun and instead have started saluting our egos.
IF YOU KEEP GOING ALL I CAN FOCUS ON IS THE TERROR IN YOUR EYES
schools are exactly designed
to keep dudes from becoming monkeydick
“Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.””
– Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)
He was the sort of man who only chewed one stick of gum at a time.
J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey
hailing from a family of fighter pilots,
my father’s sixties rebellion included
becoming whatever the hell this is
oh god damn it
i just realized we process line breaks on the left
i judge how well my life’s going
by how long i have to scroll to see that joe wengert sketch