Monday, December 29, 2008

somethings not right

I sleep with a tv on most times. It's a really annoying habbit I've always had.
I usally have the news on and occasionaly the news weaves it's way into my dreams. The background noise gets incoprorated and ends up setting the theme.
This can be a very cool thing.
Last night I woke up thinking somethings not right. There's no way Barack Obama coins should be a plot point in anyones world.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

fridgeburger cheese

So I have an upset stomach and I remember seeing on the food network channel that you can make your own alka seltzer with some baking soda. I know- that should be self evident but it never registered.
I think to myself, I have some baking soda in the fridge right?
Why not try a glass of that?
it's been there about 2-3 years but could be wrong with that?
So I look at it and it looks pretty clean- no odor or discoloration.
It's pretty brick like but being resourceful I take a fork and scrape off a teaspoon size amount and put it in a juice glass with some water.
I swirl it up and down the thing.
It sorta tastes like alka seltzer except no lemonish taste.
And then... a wave of aftertaste started forming like a tsunami.
It came up from the back of my throat and made me shudder.
There was about a second were I was panicked at the prospect of that being in my stomach. This quickly resolved itself as my entire stomach contracted and spewed its contents instantly.
No description could imagine the foul taste that generated but you have to imagine
the feeling you might have after you ate an enormous quantity of the most disgusting cheese on the planet.
If you absolutely need to empty the contents of your belly in the fastest most sure fire way imaginable than I can offer no better solution.
Next time I would suggest a squirt of lime juice.

Thursday, December 25, 2008


Found this on
The site emails you a chapter a day according to your settings (you can request more chapters if you want).
I'm currently subscribing to "Heart of Darkness" but, Dickens beckons...


by Joseph Conrad


The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest. The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn of the tide.

The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth.

The Director of Companies was our captain and our host. We four affectionately watched his back as he stood in the bows looking to seaward. On the whole river there was nothing that looked half so nautical. He resembled a pilot, which to a seaman is trustworthiness personified. It was difficult to realize his work was not out there in the luminous estuary, but behind him, within the brooding gloom.

Between us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond of the sea. Besides holding our hearts together through long periods of separation, it had the effect of making us tolerant of each other's yarns--and even convictions. The Lawyer--the best of old fellows--had, because of his many years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck, and was lying on the only rug. The Accountant had brought out already a box of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones. Marlow sat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzen-mast. He had sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect, and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an idol. The director, satisfied the anchor had good hold, made his way aft and sat down amongst us. We exchanged a few words lazily. Afterwards there was silence on board the yacht. For some reason or other we did not begin that game of dominoes.

We felt meditative, and fit for nothing but placid staring. The day was ending in a serenity of still and exquisite brilliance. The water shone pacifically; the sky, without a speck, was a benign immensity of unstained light; the very mist on the Essex marsh was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded rises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds. Only the gloom to the west, brooding over the upper reaches, became more sombre every minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun.

And at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and from glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that gloom brooding over a crowd of men.

Forthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became less brilliant but more profound. The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth. We looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories. And indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes, "followed the sea" with reverence and affection, that to evoke the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames. The tidal current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memories of men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles of the sea.

It had known and served all the men of whom the nation is proud, from Sir Francis Drake to Sir John Franklin, knights all, titled and untitled--the great knights-errant of the sea. It had borne all the ships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time, from the _Golden Hind_ returning with her rotund flanks full of treasure, to be visited by the Queen's Highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale, to the _Erebus_ and _Terror_, bound on other conquests--and that never returned. It had known the ships and the men. They had sailed from Deptford, from Greenwich, from Erith--the adventurers and the settlers; kings' ships and the ships of men on 'Change; captains, admirals, the dark "interlopers" of the Eastern trade, and the commissioned "generals" of East India fleets. Hunters for gold or pursuers of fame, they all had gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch, messengers of the might within the land, bearers of a spark from the sacred fire

What greatness had not floated on the ebb of that river into the mystery of an unknown earth! . . . The dreams of men, the seed of commonwealths, the germs of empires.

android - paraoid android

Where was this hiding? Someone get them a choir backing up.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

tip of the day for space cadets

When you accidently CC that email list that was supposed to be top secret BCC,
don't panic. Just send 10 more messages the correct way and bury your mistake. No one will read every message when they see that many that are the same.

At least I think that worked.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Saturday, November 22, 2008

dear soul diary

"At Hirst's studio on Glengall Road in Peckham yesterday, where the pill cabinets and butterfly paintings are made, workers would not talk about the job losses. One woman, wearing the Hirst "uniform" of a red sweatshirt with a skull on the back of it (inspired by Hirst's £50m diamond sculpture For the Love of God), said she didn't know anything about it.

Another, at the Newport Street studio in Lambeth where the spot paintings are produced, said she had been told not to talk to the press."

Not only are you doing the work of another artist for peanuts- you have to wear a stupid sweatshirt and the prick didn't even have the decency to tell you to your face that you're being fired. I'm sure he was afraid, cause artists are weird. And artists that are tormented by the soul emptying work of producing art for more famous artists might be particularly touchy.

Monday, November 10, 2008

juice huts I'd like to own

via sartorialist

restating the obvious

Mr. Obama, unlike most politicians near a microphone, exults in complexity. He doesn’t condescend or oversimplify nearly as much as politicians often do, and he speaks in paragraphs rather than sound bites. Global Language Monitor, which follows linguistic issues, reports that in the final debate, Mr. Obama spoke at a ninth-grade reading level, while John McCain spoke at a seventh-grade level.

Thursday, November 6, 2008


Minus the capers and olives:
2 eggplants cubed
1 medium sweet onion
1 clove garlic
16oz of diced tomato
8oz of sliced mushroom
1 chopped cubanelle pepper
1 teaspoon apricot jam
2-3 teaspoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Salt and pepper
olive oil and butter

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

obama rally

"lets have a rally!"

having a smoke out front while the throngs exit

My favorite hotel dive bar was rally hq for the night.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Tuesday, October 28, 2008


So, I go over by Del’s cube and ask her "What’s the word".
She’s like “I’ve been looking for you. I need help on the project costing page- It's all fucked up”.
I go, “I knew that- I’ve got my best guy on it”.
She’s like “who would that be? You?
I’m like, “No, Kartik”.
And she starts laughing and says “I went by there earlier and asked him where you where and he was all “please don’t ask me any questions”.
I said “Yeah, who knew for this job you couldn’t be…”
And Maridel cuts me off and says “some random motherfucker off the street”.
I was going to say shy- but she nailed it so, I just left it as is.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

banana twins

If you could get them all the time they wouldn't be so special.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008


(Via Dawn)

being all dirty and getting into a filthy sleeping bag makes me queezy- sharing said bag with a really un-kempt wild child girl is un-thinkable 12:22 PM

I bet my hobo stew would get me laid though 12:23 PM

sex and death

"The self taught Adria makes you understand why there's never been a 10-year-old child prodigy in food or art, unlike music or math. With art and food you need your body; you need knowledge of sex and death. All art penetrates us one way or another, food explicitly."

(New York magazine art critic Jerry Saltz)

Saturday, September 27, 2008

velvet goldmine

There are a few movies you can justify under 'certain conditions'- I was watching this last night under said and it was insane.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

pauline croze - t'es beau

iron and wine - naked as we came


My mom hangs on like Geronimo.
She even looks like him with her deep set eyes, high brow and strong nose.
Not sure why she's fighting so hard- my sister and I held her hands and told her we were there for her and to let go. We really thought this was it.
She squeezes our hands and keeps on going.
I told her- whatever took care of you in this life will look after you in the next and to be at peace.
She ignores that and clings to life.
There's a warrior inside her and she wants that to be her mark.
To watch this proud woman taken down breath by breath is really really hard.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

this be spudnik

A very chill place to hang out- and the darkroom is sooo romantic.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

melon school

Via Elyse Sewell Journal

The My Dad School of Melon Consumption (to which I am also an adherent) goes a little something like this:

Honeydew: eat plain
Cantaloupe: sprinkle with black pepper
Watermelon: sprinkle with salt

Why not take those ideas and apply them to the Kit Kat?

I'm actually a salt and pepper, red pepper flakes and paprika watermellon dude (if I have my druthers).
I'm that badass...

Monday, September 8, 2008


Picking my favorite Kuniyoshi print is impossible. I want to lie in a pile of them and hope the genius rubs off somehow. It's the lines, the compositions, the use of text as elements and the amazing color. Sooo good.

Saturday, August 30, 2008


Matt: watching tv 10:45 AM
Matt: they just boasted that john mccains favorite casino game is dice 10:45 AM
Proswell: !? 10:46 AM
Matt: which means he likes a game with zero skill- all luck 10:46 AM
Proswell: that is telling 10:46 AM
Proswell: after seeing obama's speech last night i felt a little bad for him 10:46 AM
Matt: I don't 10:47 AM
Matt: he may go down as the tool of the century 10:47 AM
Proswell: O'bama did do a great job of painting the party as frightened rich people 10:50 AM
Proswell: he is really nailing it 10:50 AM
Matt: well- no man with arms that short is going to be president 10:51 AM
Matt: I just wish o'bama wouldn't body surf 10:51 AM
Matt: I don't care if he's from an island 10:51 AM
Proswell: more crowd surfing 10:52 AM
Matt: totally 10:53 AM
Matt: not that I wouldn't want hear o'bama speak- but I could never deal with crowds that pavlovian and fawning 10:55 AM
Proswell: the fawning was a bit intense 10:55 AM
Proswell: grown men fawning 10:55 AM
Matt: yeah- I would need to kill a bunny after to feel clean again 10:55 AM

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

new pretenders!

No video yet- hear 'Loves a Mystery' here and pretend you're in the backseat of a karmen ghia with me!

The part about doing it again- yes...

Saturday, August 23, 2008


So, yesterday I visit mom. And things are not going well. She fell a few times.
The chemo is not working and only making her weaker.
I cooked for her like I normally do. Last visit I made the best frajita's on the grill ever, with real flank steak marinated in limes and onions and such.
They came out amazing and tasted better than any restaurant.
She said it was the toughest/chewiest meat she'd ever tried.
She's in her 70's and that was the first frajita she'd ever eaten.
That's all I cared about.
She did say she loved the spanish rice and proceeded to put 'sweat chilli sauce' on it and eat it for days. When John (her husband) saw I was making black beans, he pulled a can out of the cuboard and with a look of exasparation said "we had these???"- showing me a can of boston baked beans.
Friday I made chicken with peeled tomatoes, curry, onions and green pepper.
This did not go over well either.
After dinner we were sitting around the living room and a Brittish detective series they got from the library is playing on dvd. My mom explains to me how she's been trying to do this picture of herself from like 40 years ago for weeks and can't get it right.
She prefaces showing me the photo by explaining that she had to crop my dad out of it as if I didn't expect this. I'm used to this kind of historical editing of my life. Few good memories seem to exist (and not many mentions) of this person who was my father.
Anyway- she wants me to fix her drawing.
Her drawing is one I noticed on the last visit and it's not a great likeness of her. Like she's struggling with something. It's almost a vision of herself through a childlike prism with big doe eyes and a face too short to match my mothers long brooding stare.
I say I can't do that. There would be too much erasing and work. I'll start another...
She tells me she's still not too old to learn something and wants to see what I do.
So, I begin a drawing. I use a half sketch she had started- the outline with no features. I adjust things and do a thirty minute rough sketch of the direction she should have been going in. I explained, "you need to set the eyes in the sockets to capture someone". "Architect the face". Meaning- she has an angular face and strong nose and if you don't architect the eyes correct it won't look like the person. It will be a dewey eyed version of them. She said my drawing was off and I should start another one.
She had done five previous attempts herself and thought this the normal course.
I said I would try again on the same drawing and give it my best effort.
I went back to work and re-checked every bone, ligament and muscle in her face.
Lining everything up- upside down and sideways and then carefully erasing my ligature
to reveal a portrait of what she looked like in some distant past.
Flattering and pretty.
She liked it and approved. She said "I didn't know my face was that angular". I said "It is, in a nice- attractive way".
She kept insisting I sign it- which I never do. But in this case I agreed and signed it exactly as she wanted. "portrait of my mother, by Matthew".

I sorta knew why she wanted me to do this at the time and as it sunk in I took extra time to make sure this was one of the best drawings I ever did, but, I'm in such denial that she will be passing that it didn't really hit me untill today. She just really wanted to see me draw one more time. Like the same kid that used to finish a drawing and run up to her for some measure of approval all those years ago. I was sitting there painting my bedroom today and thinking about it when it hit me like a load of bricks. It crushed me like I know I'm going to be crushed in these coming months. Everything's the last time. Which I know but I don't want to admit.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008


"Study Finds No-Nose Bicycle Saddles Are Kinder to Male Genitalia:
There has been controversy and confusion about the connection between cycling and erectile disfunction ever since urologist Dr Irwin Goldstein said, in a Bicycling Magazine article, that 'there are two kinds of cyclists: those who are impotent and those who will be.' Obviously, that's an overstatement. In fact, having ridden a bicycle nearly every day for the last 7 years and having spoken to countless other cyclists, I am of the opinion that bicycle saddles only cause numbness 1) if the bike is improperly adjusted; 2) when a rider isn't fit and 3) after a very long and intense ride."

I don't really need my genitalia that much anymore anyway and there's no way I would have a seat that looked that stupid. Maybe if my purpose were to re-populate the planet with slightly spacey lovers of detective novels and cloud gazing I could see worrying about this.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


Your search - angora - did not match any records.

Make sure all words are spelled correctly, try different keywords, or try more general keywords.

Monday, August 11, 2008

lunch with dawn

I didn't actually say this to anyone but threatened to.
"don't mind my friend Dawn .... she doesn't own a TV"

Sunday, August 10, 2008

what's your sign

Just reading the news on a Sunday as I'm want to do but, I may be closer to this Rielle chic than I want to admit.

"I struck up a conversation with the woman at the next event, as we waited outside. She told me her name and asked me what my astrological sign was, which I thought was a little unusual. I told her. She smiled, and began telling me her life story: how she was working as a documentary-film maker, living with a friend in South Orange, N.J., but how she'd previously had "many lives." She'd worked, she said, as an actress and as a spiritual adviser. She was fiercely devoted to astrology and New Age spirituality. She'd been a New York party girl, she'd been married and divorced, she'd been a seeker and a teacher and was a firm believer in the power of truth."

Wednesday, August 6, 2008



Matt: timecheck
Matt: I have underwear were the tensile strength of the waistband is less than optimal. Unfortunately I'm wearing such a pair today.
Matt: things you need to be aware of
Dawn: heh.
Dawn: i'm not wearing any
Dawn: things you need to be aware of
Matt: not an option

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Saturday, August 2, 2008

american teen

I have a theory about Hannah and the bf break-ups.
(and thanks dawn!)

Friday, August 1, 2008


I'm walking back with zoe

and there's always someone with a shopping cart around our building

and this guy- picks up a brick and puts it in his cart- and when he looked at me- we both knew

that's a window buster


Wednesday, July 30, 2008

cut here

ellipsis \i-ˈlip-səs, e-\
A mark or series of marks ( . . . or * * * , for example) used in writing or printing to indicate an omission, especially of letters or words.

dawn calls my shit

Dawn: and hold-up .... why on earth did you use a smiley face ... sooo not Matt
Matt: that made me laugh- that's one of the three smiley's I'll do all year
Matt: I know- they should be more momentous
Dawn: you should laugh that it took me a minute to recognize
Dawn: shock had settled
Matt: all my shit comes with an assumed dour face

Monday, July 28, 2008

monday twofer (minimalist)

800 Cherries, Frozen (Snow, Snow, Snow)

Black Moth Super Rainbow, Hazy Field People

These are by some art student in South Korea (drownedboys)- enjoy!

scenes from a coffee shop

Guy comes out on the patio and pulls his pack of Parliaments out. He looks around and then heads to the corner under the tree to have a cigarette. A few minutes later he comes up to the girl sitting at the table adjacent mine and is like "hey Amy... do you have a bike?". Amy's like "do I have a what?".
Asian guy- "Do you own a bike?"
Amy- "Yeah- I have a bike. Why?"
(oofah- that was a mistake Amy)
Asian guy- "Did you know they have a ferry over in Chinatown?"
Amy- "A Ferry?"
Asian guy- "Yeah- they have a ferry... and I wanted to know if you would like to bike there with me."
Asian guy- "Tonight"
Amy- "Tonight?"
Asian guy- "yeah- tonight"
Amy- "I think I'm just gonna work."
(Amy is reading a magazine)
Asian guy- "You have work to do tonight?"
Amy- "Yeah, I was thinking I might work tonight."
Asian guy- "Oh, okay... um, What about tomorrow?"
Amy "Tomorrow?"
Asian guy- "Yeah- tomorrow"
Amy- "I don't know, I think I'm busy tomorrow"
Asian guy- "Your busy tomorrow. Okay. What about the weekend?"

Serious- it when on and on like that for another 5 minutes. Like David Mamet whom I loathe on low batteries. I had to pretend I was so engrossed in my work that I didn't bear witness to any of this- even though I was TWO FEET from their table. I was almost tempted to turn and tell Amy "Cmon- your killing me-throw the guy a bone and make this stop".

Oh- and the imagineers were back (and singing again). They are trying to ruin paradise. If my Irish temper goes past a tipping point they are going to find out why it's tactically better to pick the table with the wrought iron chairs as opposed to the plastic chairs they'll be forced to defend themselves with.

death of the suburbs

A lot of people (Realtors, builders, bankers) are waiting for the “bottom” of the housing crash, with the idea that we’ll re-enter an up-cycle. I see it differently. There won’t be a resumption of “growth” as we’ve known it, certainly not in suburban residential and commercial real estate. The suburban project is over. We’re done with that. (I know people find this unbelievable.) The existing stuff will represent a huge liability for us for decades to come as it loses value and utility and falls apart.

However, I also believe our big cities will contract. They are simply not scaled to the energy realities of the future. The successful places, in my opinion, will be the smaller cities and towns that 1.) have walkable neighborhoods, 2.) have proximity to water for power, transport and drinking, and 3.) have a meaningful relationship with a productive agricultural hinterland. Some places you can forget about completely: Phoenix . . . Las Vegas . . . they’re toast.

From James Kunstler

rocket fish

I know- I don't actually surf! That's just a technicality. I still need this surf board. It's made of CARBON!

Saturday, July 26, 2008

saint sebastion

I was always going to do this as a painting since art school (self portrait like).
Now I think it might make an interesting tattoo?

caution children

Yes- continue to send me random truck pictures. I'm compelled to post them.

times new viking

This is like a test- do you really like low-fi post punk garagey bands?
I know she can't sing or play her instrument but, I'm fascinated by her commitment.

2am haiku

nutty bars and panang curry
choking wakeup
acid reflux
see what the buzz is about
women behind bars

Friday, July 25, 2008

breeding properties of m&m's

(from via [marklasanti] who got it from somewheres else)

I received this message on the blog, but it obviously fits no known topic. The author is something of a mystery: "R. Crutch," no city, no e-mail. But I felt it necessary to share with you. RE

From R. Crutch:

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them breaks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

deep thoughts

The OCD person may also have irrational thoughts related to being meticulous in actions (a “perfectionist”) or in being fixated on something or someone, although the obsessive-compulsive disorder person can also have a condition relating to an anal-retentive character or other such personality disorder.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

astralmatt (uhhg)

What was your first internet handle? Mine was (the screamingly embarrassing!) "Vampyress," created in 1994, in Mrs Butterfield's 7th grade computer lab at Albuquerque Academy, where Lily Maase and I would occupy illicit chatrooms that someone, somehow, had showed her how to access. The entertainment value of chatrooms definitely trumped Mrs Butterfield's lab's other charms, including Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing and Life and Death. Our favorite chat was called "UK Surfers," and Vampyress enjoyed looking on as Lily Maase carried on a cyb3r-intensive flirtation with a UK Surfer called "ScrewboyT." "I check my email every day," sighed the twelve-year-old Lily, "If I'm really bored, sometimes every hour." Vampyress was duly impressed.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

all the sadness in the world

I’m Not Crying, It’s Only Raining on My Face

I'm still slightly embarrassed by what transpired on the plane ride back from Vegas.
I believe it's criminal to play a sappy movie on a flight to emotionally and physically exhausted passengers returning from Vegas. I was sitting in the middle seat. which almost never happens and makes me really uncomfortable because I'm claustrophobic. I need a clear path on some side in case I need to escape.
So the movie starts and I'm like oh no, not this non-sense.
The movie is "Definitely, Maybe" with Ryan Reynolds and Abigail Breslin. I actually find this girl annoying cause I hate precocious kids. Anyway, if you've seen this movie there is one scene that you can totally see coming for miles away. It's where he tells his daughter what the 'good part' of the whole story is and even though you so know what's coming, it still manages to get you. So, there was this awkwardness after the movie where the girl sitting next to me and myself were trying to surreptitiously wipe tears off our faces and pull it together like we had done something dirty.

If you ever really need a good cry rent the movie "Away from Her", which is quite possibly the saddest love story ever made. It will absolutely puddle you.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

roller crushes

I go through all 80+ WCR profiles so you don't have to!
This is my new favorite- Terra Fye. Tough yet sophisticated.
Oh Miss Terra... can I write your profile?

kings of convenience - the build up

(Dawn says listen- I concur!)

joan as police woman - eternal flame

This is such a good song. I cannot however, endorse this bad art school video.
You can almost hear the production manager in your head- "What do mean you can't find a sea horse costume? I'll fucking make one myself".

Monday, July 14, 2008

frightened rabbit

Best live show in a long time.

smokers paradise

Dawn: how's the smokes?
Matt: I didn't want to be a bother but I'm dying
Matt: I'm going to nap when I get out of the sun
Matt: and read
Matt: I could smoke a wooden coffee stir right now
Matt: I would expect the meanness to go off the scale by end of week
Dawn: really that bad already?
Matt: I just happen to be in a smokers paradise right now
Matt: testing myself with coffee and patio laden with ashtrays

Sunday, July 13, 2008


No one can tell me I'm too old for jean shorts... ever.
They bring out my inner beach bum.

nick and zoe

Sadly, Nick left and Zoe stayed.

Friday, July 11, 2008


tgictf- refers to a place I used to work were a certain girl wore a certain tight pair of jeans every Friday and we were all appalled, so we needed to own it (ode to Laurie).

One thing I hate about Fridays- payday lottery players at the Dominick's service counter when I just want smokes. C'mon- do you really know that many birthdays (bad ju ju - me thinks)?

Day two my shit code under duress is beating the top financial news services in the country.
Take that bitches.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008


People who collaborate at coffee shops are beyond tooldom.
"Look at us, we're having a creative meeting at a coffee shop!"

-nuff said

Bird that must've eaten some relish just shit on my keyboard.

gin pops

I see these in my plans this weekend. Add some nicotine and Alazopram and we're set.

Gin-and-Chile-Infused Grapefruit
Eben Freeman, mixologist, Tailor
A spiced-up version of a greyhound cocktail (gin and grapefruit juice, classically); Freeman nicknames this pop the “Hot Dog.” As your mouth turns cold, you’re bombarded with that most elusive of taste sensations: citrusy icy-hotness.

2 cups fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice
1/4 serrano chile
3 ounces Plymouth gin
2 ounces sugar
Grenadine for color

Combine all ingredients in a bowl, and let rest in the refrigerator for half an hour. Remove chile, add liquid to molds, and freeze. Serves about 10.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

this story's not finished

Through some twist of randomness and over exuberance you decide it's a good idea to try and connect with someone who lives in your neighborhood.
Someone you've never seen but apparently lives a block away.
After many email exchanges and an anti-climatic meeting you should've spent elsewhere,
you both realize (in the three seconds it takes to size someone up) that there is zero chemistry.
Then, just to prove life is a horror show- this person suddenly begins appearing on your path. Like every day.
My brain is now trained to scan crowds for anyone who looks likes the woman who gets killed early in a Brian De Palma movie.

But wait...
Then you become obsessed. And this woman becomes anyone. Every person matching the slightest description is them at a glance.
That couldn't have been her- she doesn't have a bike?

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

strippers- vegas

My private dance (I didn't ask for but, someone always buys a dance for the shy guy) turned into a therapy session- so awkward.
Stripper- "Your kinda quiet".
Me in my head- "well- as it turns out. I don't really have a lot in common with strippers".
Me in reality- Much painful over-shares about separation and not dating!!!
You have no idea how un-cool being in a VIP section of a strip club is until you've lived it.
It's like loser squared with a spotlight.
and you where there continued...
Stripper- "What's your name"
Me- "Matt"
Stripper- "What?"
Me- "M y   n a m e   i s   M a t t" - Loud video of Goldfrapp playing in background, while Japanese businessmen stumble by.
Stripper- "My name is Mona- do want to have a dance?"
Me "I don't have any m o n e y"
Me "Try my friend I v a n" - points at Ivan.
Repeat that about a hundred times.

nuff said...

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Thursday, June 26, 2008

apricot pesto

This is a cross between a basil pesto pizza and a tart

4 1/2 cups (20.25 ounces) unbleached high-gluten, bread, or all-purpose flour, chilled
1 3/4 (.44 ounce) teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon (.11 ounce) instant yeast
1/4 cup (2 ounces) olive oil (optional)
1 3/4 cups (14 ounces) water, ice cold (40°F)
Semolina flour or cornmeal for dusting

3 teaspoons basil pesto
1 1/2 teaspoons apricot jam
sliced banana pepper
black pepper
2 tablespoons feta cheese
1 tablespoon mozzarella
1/2 teaspoon grated parmesian

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

neglected whacked


vegas baby


Dawn: so my friend the newshound ... did you see the amazon tribe hoax article?
Matt: they are a real tribe
Matt: just not so lost
Matt: somewhere there're hippies planning to go meet them
Dawn: somewhere those hippies are hoping that tribe has some "lost" weed
Matt: "where did you get that cool choker?"
Matt: "It's my friend's tailbone"
Matt: "we went into the amazon, and they ate her and I got this"

Monday, June 23, 2008

efterklang- parades

Monday mornings my anxiety meter is set to 'ridiculous'.
I always feel like I'm going to be sucked under the water and hit by a boat propeller for no apparent reason.

Sunday, June 22, 2008


Matt: reporter on tv named wif dinnick
Matt: wilf
Matt: friends call him the wilfer
Matt: or the wilfman
Matt: mother wilfer
Matt: or total wilf
Matt: "wilf I'd like to fuck"
Matt: I'm done
Dawn: you forgot about "what the wilf"
Matt: on what planet do you name your boy that
Dawn: earth, apparently
Matt: milk weed sounds more masculine
Matt: meet my son 'milk weed' and his whimpy little brother 'wilf'
Dawn: and their sister, thistle

Friday, June 20, 2008


Note to self: Cedar Rapids is going to smell for like the next 10 years- avoid.

flaming wok 3am

In case you've never been- there is no Wok, no flaming and no grill.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

big wheel

So I just got in. Look what's crept into the neighborhood. (force)