I handed my coffee cup to a guy getting off the subway this morning and asked him to throw it away for me. A normal enough request, but - maybe it's just New York - I felt like I was requesting something altogether outlandish in asking him to do that for me, couldnt' recall another time in which I had asked a stranger for a favor, any favor, least of all one so common as to throw my coffee away for me, and wasn't able to stop myself from grinning like a jackass while I did it. He took it, though. Nice guy. Real pushover. Not gonna make it in a city like this, a dog-eat-dog city like this.
Speaking of which, the dog-eat dog nature of this city has really caught my attention of late. I feel like everywhere I go, there's some dog eating some other dog, and I'm really beginning to wonder what is to blame for the spike in canine cannibalism. Perhaps it's some chemical in dog food. Perhaps it represents a shift in canine consciousness to the existential, and dogs, not having the presence of mind to abide law and order, and suddenly preoccupied of the notion that they exist a meaningless moment in an eternal slinky-slunk of meaningless moments, have taken to eating each other, because why the hell not, right? Nothing matters anyway and they're goddamned dogs. You don't believe me? Take a look at some contemporary dog-art and you'll see what I mean. It speaks to a species in the dark, without a candle, and is overtly fixated upon imagery containing dogs eating other dogs. I think there's a gallery at the MOMA.
Speaking of which, the dog-eat dog nature of this city has really caught my attention of late. I feel like everywhere I go, there's some dog eating some other dog, and I'm really beginning to wonder what is to blame for the spike in canine cannibalism. Perhaps it's some chemical in dog food. Perhaps it represents a shift in canine consciousness to the existential, and dogs, not having the presence of mind to abide law and order, and suddenly preoccupied of the notion that they exist a meaningless moment in an eternal slinky-slunk of meaningless moments, have taken to eating each other, because why the hell not, right? Nothing matters anyway and they're goddamned dogs. You don't believe me? Take a look at some contemporary dog-art and you'll see what I mean. It speaks to a species in the dark, without a candle, and is overtly fixated upon imagery containing dogs eating other dogs. I think there's a gallery at the MOMA.
Last night I had a crust of bread and water for dinner so I could see what it was like to be a peasant of olden times. It was all right.
Of course, it was a pretty big crust of bread because it was actually a loaf, and my water was light pink Vitamin Water (Focus - Vitamin A + Ginkgo), but I just decided that I was marrying old-time peasant fare with modern portion sizes and water-flavors, and that it still counted.
Rats. I forgot to check to see whether or not I felt more focused after I drank that Vitamin Water. Probably not, but what if? I'm not one to downplay the importance of unearned focus, lazy peasant as I am.
Of course, it was a pretty big crust of bread because it was actually a loaf, and my water was light pink Vitamin Water (Focus - Vitamin A + Ginkgo), but I just decided that I was marrying old-time peasant fare with modern portion sizes and water-flavors, and that it still counted.
Rats. I forgot to check to see whether or not I felt more focused after I drank that Vitamin Water. Probably not, but what if? I'm not one to downplay the importance of unearned focus, lazy peasant as I am.
She has a boyfriend. Of course she does. Would it be any other way?
If I had a nickel for every girl I pursue who turns out to have a boyfriend, I might be somewhere close to a dollar. Maybe two. In the last year, that is. Lifetime? I might be pushing 5.
O accursed fortune! Not only can I not have the girl I want, I also can't be reimbursed in change!
If I had a nickel for every girl I pursue who turns out to have a boyfriend, I might be somewhere close to a dollar. Maybe two. In the last year, that is. Lifetime? I might be pushing 5.
O accursed fortune! Not only can I not have the girl I want, I also can't be reimbursed in change!
Welcome to the new site! I hope you like it - I've made a few changes and added new content. I've separated the blog from the weekly column. The blog will contain news and anytime I feel like screeching and hollering, this is where I'll do it. There will be a new column every week, and Podcasts just about that regularly. One notable change is that there is no RSS feed for the weekly column. Just check back Mondays. Also, I intend to instate a comments feature on the podcasts in the coming days. Oh, and in the coming months I'm planning on turning Sketches into a video download section, so you know.
Thanks for visiting. Send your feedback to matt@howtopayrent.com. If you like what you see, please tell someone about it.
Oh, and definitely check out the podcasts.
Matt
Thanks for visiting. Send your feedback to matt@howtopayrent.com. If you like what you see, please tell someone about it.
Oh, and definitely check out the podcasts.
Matt
Uh oh. There's mold growing in the soil in my plant. Damned plant. I bought it when I was out with a girl, thinking yes, this is what couples do, and if all continues as it's going, I soon will be part of a couple, a glorious and coveted couple, the couple I have longed to be part of for way too long, this feels so healthy and so normal, huzzah, a couple! She likes the plant? I'll buy the plant!
I don't want to keep you in suspense: I punked out. I didn't call for a week or so and she let me off easy. She was very cool about it.
So now I have a plant. I have never been interested in maintaining any plants beyond the cactuses that have been with me since college. I like cactuses because they're both easy to take care of and their outward weaponry coupled with their interior softness provides an apt metaphor for me and all my accursed male brethren.
But now I have a plant, and although I have been seriously neglecting it, it refuses to die. Figures. That's life for you. I can't wait until the day I finally start loving the plant so it can brown up and shrivel, just to spit the way of the world in my disappointed face. Oh well. I doubt I'll ever seriously care for the plant.
I should probably deal with the mold, though. Mold does release spores after all. But who feels like going up the street and buying a pot and soil? Not to mention the hassle of relocating it to a new pot. No. I'm going to put it off for a while. I'll do it soon.
I wonder if the mold could be bad for me. Maybe. I wonder if there is a mold spore that, when inhaled, turns the innards of its host into goo, just melts all the organs into one big glop, all the while the afflicted person thinks first that they are a little sick, then sickness coupled with internal pain, equally distributed, so that they chalk it up to the aches and pains of being everyday sick. It is not until they can't control their bodily functions or move, or think from the pain entire, and by then it's too late to take any mold-antidote that may or may not exist.
It's probably not that kind of mold, though. I think they would take measures to keep that kind of spore out of consumer-grade potting soil.
It's not really worth entertaining the notion that the spores might combine with my DNA and give me super powers, since that is clearly not going to happen. I don't think I would want to be a mold-based mutant anyway. If I was a mutant hero, or villain, actually, scratch hero - if I was a mutant villain, I would definitely want to be a cute one, and mold-man is not fucking cute.
Unless I was just like any normal guy, any normal guy with a palpable dark side, for it would show in my shadowy eyes, and all I would need to do is get close to a victim and breathe into them, whereupon they find themselves afflicted with the very body-goo mold I speculated upon a moment ago. Come to think of it, this mold-man thing could be okay. My eyes could even be green!
But no, if there was deadly poison in my breath then I couldn't make out with girls. Forget mold-man. If I ever want to really take out my murderous aggression on the human race, I'll just have to settle for bombing an abortion clinic or murdering an evolution scientist. Oh, wait. Is that even a crime anymore? Whatever. Point is, I like to make out with girls.
Ooh! Maybe it's the kind of mold that makes you hallucinate like drugs. Is there such a mold, or am I thinking of frogs? That would be a gas!
Let's take stock here: I've imagined three mold scenarios: one bad (death-mold), one mixed (mold-man), and one good (drugs-mold). It's ripe for experimentation!
The only question that remains is, do I try to eat the mold, mix it with a drink, or powderize it and snort it? I think powderize. Yeah. Put it in the oven for a few minutes to dry it out, get it all crispy, then choppy choppy, sniffy sniffy, and at last we'll know the truth!
I don't want to keep you in suspense: I punked out. I didn't call for a week or so and she let me off easy. She was very cool about it.
So now I have a plant. I have never been interested in maintaining any plants beyond the cactuses that have been with me since college. I like cactuses because they're both easy to take care of and their outward weaponry coupled with their interior softness provides an apt metaphor for me and all my accursed male brethren.
But now I have a plant, and although I have been seriously neglecting it, it refuses to die. Figures. That's life for you. I can't wait until the day I finally start loving the plant so it can brown up and shrivel, just to spit the way of the world in my disappointed face. Oh well. I doubt I'll ever seriously care for the plant.
I should probably deal with the mold, though. Mold does release spores after all. But who feels like going up the street and buying a pot and soil? Not to mention the hassle of relocating it to a new pot. No. I'm going to put it off for a while. I'll do it soon.
I wonder if the mold could be bad for me. Maybe. I wonder if there is a mold spore that, when inhaled, turns the innards of its host into goo, just melts all the organs into one big glop, all the while the afflicted person thinks first that they are a little sick, then sickness coupled with internal pain, equally distributed, so that they chalk it up to the aches and pains of being everyday sick. It is not until they can't control their bodily functions or move, or think from the pain entire, and by then it's too late to take any mold-antidote that may or may not exist.
It's probably not that kind of mold, though. I think they would take measures to keep that kind of spore out of consumer-grade potting soil.
It's not really worth entertaining the notion that the spores might combine with my DNA and give me super powers, since that is clearly not going to happen. I don't think I would want to be a mold-based mutant anyway. If I was a mutant hero, or villain, actually, scratch hero - if I was a mutant villain, I would definitely want to be a cute one, and mold-man is not fucking cute.
Unless I was just like any normal guy, any normal guy with a palpable dark side, for it would show in my shadowy eyes, and all I would need to do is get close to a victim and breathe into them, whereupon they find themselves afflicted with the very body-goo mold I speculated upon a moment ago. Come to think of it, this mold-man thing could be okay. My eyes could even be green!
But no, if there was deadly poison in my breath then I couldn't make out with girls. Forget mold-man. If I ever want to really take out my murderous aggression on the human race, I'll just have to settle for bombing an abortion clinic or murdering an evolution scientist. Oh, wait. Is that even a crime anymore? Whatever. Point is, I like to make out with girls.
Ooh! Maybe it's the kind of mold that makes you hallucinate like drugs. Is there such a mold, or am I thinking of frogs? That would be a gas!
Let's take stock here: I've imagined three mold scenarios: one bad (death-mold), one mixed (mold-man), and one good (drugs-mold). It's ripe for experimentation!
The only question that remains is, do I try to eat the mold, mix it with a drink, or powderize it and snort it? I think powderize. Yeah. Put it in the oven for a few minutes to dry it out, get it all crispy, then choppy choppy, sniffy sniffy, and at last we'll know the truth!
