March 2012
3 tags
I ain't afraid of you, I'm just a victim of your...
When you get older, you tend to forget a lot of things — you lose years and transition those moments to minute-long montages in your head, kaleidoscopic photographs of important treasured moments compressed into seconds.
That’s why you hang out with old friends, even though it’s so rote and ritual you can’t help but feel oppressed by your own history. There’s...
5 tags
the Assassination of Sherlock Holmes by the coward...
all I’m saying is, I know a lot of girls with dragon tattoos, and none of them were that interesting.
February 2012
“I’m discovering that there is a larger-than-expected chasm between how...”
– Robin (Frank, if you prefer)
free write time
I know writers who are brilliant postmodernists who don’t speak the languages they know right, they know new words and enter phrases in paradigms of looping improbability and speak in a new poetry. A fine array of talent and a smooth engine of merging lexicons. But they all give it up for business, for power and suits, for paychecks and neat smiles, white, clean, perfect, keeping the...
she cheers at me when I electrocute strangers, tearing down their hearts with fake lightning, she calls me her own science experiment, places me neatly in her cage, I run her maze with leggy imprecisions
while playing Nick Cave's "Bring It On"
My afterlife should be a cinema retrospective, a group of impersonal, bitter film critics speaking dense terminology and pretentious naysaying towards the angles and attitudes of my life. They should talk about the presences and mistakes and I will use this information if I ever return, as a new man or a wide-eyed kitten or a hungry unrelenting shark. How interesting it would be, to be conscious,...
I found her on the night of fire and noise
eyes flashing about in the rain, she smiles at me, I try to tell her I’m in love with a disconnected art form but she’s already walked away towards a yellow taxi ready to fly, a hobo asks me for change and I say, “get her hands off my heart” he says, “buddy, all I want is a quarter, you got bigger problems”, and neither of us have umbrellas
she forcefed me...
bartender beating breakbarrel backs with burly hairknuckle fingers as he shoots shots down spillcounter whiskey flings, I try to find a jukebox full of truth but this only has Songs of Rightness, it keeps playing Hello Mortals, This Is Your God, the same song the Book Holders keep grafting, so I try to sit next to some fringe-maned lion who talks of Science, and he explains clumsiness to me, in...
the merriment of her long legs
I’ve chased a thousand mad fucks across a hundred thousand windmill chances, because there are stars in the sky, no matter what I do, and then I got to chasing her, and
she has legs like all the words they taught me in old classes, the ones I picked up from old movies lying around, she has a body like neglected terminology, she has a smile like injustice thrown on the right man’s...
You know what’s weird.
I title a lot of my blog posts after song titles, because I’m the kind of quasi-witty hipster lit-fag loser who does that, but since I’ve been writing for-fucking-ever and I listen to about eleven albums a week (thus making me also part music-fag hipster loser), and break all my computers and have to re-download things, sometimes I see an entry and...
not deeper than it sounds
Tom: i dunno man
Tom: all you ever have to do is act cool
Me: Let me put it like this -- if every day everyone expected you to be some maverick juvenile one-liner-spouting, high-octane alcoholic with great taste in ties, wouldn't you be tired?
Tom: i don't own any ties
Me: Boy, that better be deeper than it sounds.
“Among the maxims on Lord Naoshige’s wall there was this ”Matters of great...”
– the Hagakure
picking up the tab
tap, tap, the bartender’s fat finger on the tab, “that’s a lot of money”
“since,” the wino said, “I have no money to give, I’ll settle for revealing the Terrible Secrets of Man no one was supposed to know!”
“communication with God the Almighty can be achieved by dipping your sexual organs in mutton fat and communion wine, dialing five...
a book review I wrote for a friend's book (that he...
When Tyler Arsenault came to me with his book, “the sex wasn’t that good anyway”, I was simply offended. Was this his way of telling me what we had meant nothing to him? He’s the only one who ever made me feel, made me feel like real woman, and this is what I have to show for it? That cad. That bastard. But because of the beautiful, sweet lovin’s we once shared, I...
2 tags
if San Francisco was my girlfriend
if San Francisco was my girlfriend, I don’t think it’d be the healthiest relationship, but it’d be an adventure. She’d tell me that I talk too much, and I’d say that she had shitty taste in everything. She’d tell me I was a noisy prick and I’d bring up all her ex-boyfriends are a bunch of tools with stupid tattoos. She’d always tell me something I...
1 tag
Express Shuns
I use the expression “back to square one” a lot, even though I never really played that many board games or was involved with things that involved a first square. Mostly I use it to describe setbacks within romance, finances, attempts at writing gigs, the like.
But in my head, I’ve used it so often, that Square One is a almost place — some red-tint, anthropomorphized dive...
the hell with this, I'm moving to Florence
my work schedule seems dedicated to somehow simultaneously ruining what remnants of a social life I have and obliterating any hope of good sleep. there’s something about a bunch of night shifts the same time there’s a bunch of parties and a bunch of people in town you’d like to see that gets depressing.
and while day-drunk crawling the city is fun, it’s just not the...
Fine, said the Policeman, his Nightstick full of Wonder and homeless broken faces, look up at the Sky, You will See, what I have Seen, scream what I have Screamed out my last
Up in the Sky, where Seeing was as high as it could go, There, your Vision sought to understand, to grasp the Horror it was saturating in, but you could Not, you could only Scream, with the Policeman, as you became Piss...
In describing how my friend said I looked like Christer Petterson, and then by proxy telling the story of Olaf Palme, I realized I never stopped to think about the fact that around the world, generally, we try to kill our leaders. Not, you know, you or me (well maybe you, freak) but the big leaders can’t just wander around for a day without a secret service attache and a bunch of hidden...
1 tag
Richard drunk dials
Richard: Daniel Vaccerelli, do you know what the worst part of LA is?
Me: Everything?
Richard: No, hanging out with [my ex] and seeing a hundred million opportunities to point out "well, Daniel Vaccerelli would say something clever right here" and not taking them.
Me: Yeah, I wouldn't do that.
2 tags
the Instagram Chronicles
sometimes my phone will have instagram notifications and I’ll be like really, which drunk hipster asshole fuck do I know has liked some retarded picture of a boring chick in a tattoo or a washed-out flash close-up of a drink in a bar this time.
“I think you will agree that I am alive in every part of this book; turn back...”
– Kenneth Patchen
I’ve recently been on a quest to bog down my socially aware argumentative friends with postmodern bullshit that’s clearly nonsensical but skirts around the edge of extremely intelligent sounding. So far, most of them haven’t figured out what’s up. Or maybe they have and they’re trying to bog down my postmodern bullshit that’s clearly nonsensical with...
5 tags
4 tags
Let's Go Backward When Forward Fails
Ladies, gentlemen, women and children first, boys and girls, sentient balustrades, lend me your earballs and eyeholes.
Anyway — two of my friends who are relationship counselors are having a difficult break-up.
I first off want to state that “relationship counselor” is a misleading and downright moronic profession, as are most psychoanalytic advice jobs; psychology attempts to...
I shall continue to exist
sometimes I console myself that I don’t know that much about women, and it’s better that way. I’m a private detective of the soul, after all — that’s what most of my writing is, when it’s not all murder and cleverly re-named old gods trying to buy bourbon — and no case is more boring than the solved one. then again, sometimes I terrify myself realizing how...
“how the hell do you pull off neo-noir vampire-zombie-slasher with a side of...”
– Frank
your poppa never told you about right and wrong
There’s this weird population of people on my facebook I have to call “girls I went out on one or two dates with that didn’t go all that well who now follow me on multiple social networks because they think I’m a good writer and my drunk train-wreck of a life is entertaining”.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEI6Yd0X4-c
I took a look at the newspaper today — fucking weird, I know — and it was all SUNSHINE AND WONDERFUL IN SAN FRANCISCO CONTINUES. depressing shit. I remember the news was supposed to be about brown people dying or being exploited and casual remarks from republicans causing inflammatory reactions in the left and vice versa. things about homosexuals and domestic policy or something. why...
but really
Me: "Show Me Your Tits, & Other Feminist Ramblings."
Juan: Feminism is the new black.
Me: Man, when can black people have black back?
Juan: Well, it is Black History Month.
Me: Right? Give them back the THING THAT THEY SHOULD HAVE.
Is increasingly erratic behavior all that erratic if you had only marginally standardized behavior before?
Why are people so tied to having a single identity with multiple facets? Why not have multiple, wildly different identities for every situation? An evolving set of faces for every confrontation in today’s dying, postmodern society. Live vicariously through your other personalities. Be...
for Gabe, mostly
I feel like I should articulate what to me makes music “bad” and what makes music “good”. “Good” music is one that invokes an immediate positive response either through the structure, sound, or lyrics provoking a feeling of comfort, sympathy, or nostalgia. I find ZZ Top “good” because it reminds me of listening to classic rock in cars while growing...
12 tags
con't: Daniel Vaccerelli's Post-Ironic Non-Irony...
so, it’s a sunny, warm day in San Francisco, where the golden rays touch everything, and everyone I know heads for the park to get high and…whatever it is they do. as I mentioned previously, I fucking hate the park.
what’s a fella to do?
then I recalled — last night, I remembered seven years ago when some girl told me NIN’s “Only” reminded her of me. I...
My hotel room smells like Aurora.
(rather than socks and vodka)
1 tag
spies in the wires
whenever people bring up abortion debates and women’s physical rights to me, I start flash-forward to the inevitable terrible doom dystopia we’re slated to live in, in which there are faith-detectors everywhere making sure we believe in Robo-State-Jesus just enough that civilization doesn’t cave, and our bodies are infected and monitored by government bacteria, children are used...
5 tags
I will continue rambling into this box until the...
Every time someone talks to me about DP I immediately think “Double Penetration”, rather than Dolores Park. Possibly because it’s significantly funnier to me to imagine my friends are incredibly enthused about getting high and then roughly double-fucked, possibly because I may be the only person in this city who’s just plain twitchy about not liking parks. Then again, I...
Manager Dan The Manager Man
I led my first department meeting today. At first I was an awkward idiot, like the first time I asked a girl out — I stared at the ground, I stammered a lot, and I hoped I wasn’t blushing like a complete fucktard. Then, after hearing other managers present their facts and findings, i was like, fuck this shit — I’m a charismatic genius compared to these assholes. I...
“since silence sounded
with human voice, my
brain has grown accustomed
to...”
– David Lee Castleman
2 tags
8 tags
I feel like the profilerance of dubstep has created this awkward backlash of extremely slow music that’s just as unlistenable and pointless. Going from “the drop” to “no backdrop” wasn’t the way to go. For everything there is an equal and opposing reaction, but does it have to be an equally shitty reaction?
Then again, I don’t know why I’m trying...
straight through, I don't got a good reason
In the heart of everything, I say, there is a brave capitalism, the spirit of making something for doing something.
Wow, Tony says.
Everyone at this job thinks you’re a fucking idiot, Tony says.
I respond with an articulate “bwuh”, the strength of my ancestors lashing back against such an insult.
You’re smart, Tony says. You’re obviously smarter than most of...
