Walking Down Hennepin, I Swear I Never Had a Gun

Paul and I got up at the crack of my ass to work on a photo project that I have been thinking of for a long time — photographing the length of Hennipen. I shot five rolls of film but no digital. I kind of missed having my digital camera — I might have shot more than the 180 pictures that I did if I would have had all the modern conveniences available to me — like color.

There weren’t enough people on the street to get into hassling people for street portraits, and I don’t think that I had been out long enough to build up the courage. I think that I should do it again on Lake Street, and maybe wander around Northeast and/or downtown. I dunno, my goal was to shoot Minneapolis like I have shot New York, but Minneapolis is just too spread out and oftentimes seems so clean and extruded — like we pour our buildings into molds and let them set over a couple of days before gluing windows onto the outside.

Nonetheless, I think this is still a good idea — especially if I could actually talk to some people.

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Oh My God What The Fuck Barbeque

I hope that you like forty six thousand pictures, ‘cause that’s what you’re gonna get on your motherfucking face is my forty six thousand motherfucking pictures like a motherfucker!!!@!@ LG AAFAhfasd;fhaW

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Stranger Than Bonar

I’m kind of torn between going to see Stranger Than Fiction at Wynnsong or Haley Bonar at the Varsity Theater. Decisions, decisions.

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Today I convinced my mother that it would be a good idea to buy a cardigan for me. It’s very comfortable and makes me feel professorial. Thank you, Mom. This sweater will pretty much replace the black hoodie that I had been wearing with my black coat. I’m wearing it right now. Glorious.

I joked about not being able to afford my own shopping therapy, but it’s true.

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Coming Soon

If, by “soon,” I mean, uh, sometime in the future.

Starboy, Motherfuckers
Jesse Mullan’s Starboy Action Comix Presents:
In: “Any Crash You Can Walk Away From.”

Hellz yes.

Plus I have like 5000 robots to draw, but that’s another story altogether.

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Happy Thanksgiving

Today I made a roux and a green bean casserole to take over to my mom’s. I don’t think that I made enough roux — I should probably have made a double batch, given that I ended up making a half gallon of gravy. Of course, my mom had tossed the giblets because she thought that they were gross, but the gravy worked out okay anyway. This time I did not use too much black pepper.

I had to bug out early because I was feeling a little… I dunno. I could use some super fun party time tonight. Translate my heart into Japanese and back again: “Thousand being broken eyes overnight are not repaired.” It’s okay. I’m fine. That’s not as funny as “Macho Business Donkey Wrestler,” but we can’t ALL be News Radio. Oh, no we can’t.

I know that I had told myself that I was going to save my pinstriped black shirt for a hot date, but I needed extra propping up to make the casserole without freaking out while sweating the onions and mushrooms. I shaved, I looked great, but I couldn’t glue on my game face, no matter how good my grey corduroys look on me. Yes, I understand that marrying the pinstripes to the cords was asking for trouble, but Lisa gave the nod. Shit. I shoulda grabbed different pants.

Anyway, it was nice to see my extended family on my mom’s side. I put the turkey back in the oven right when it was time to be served because tearing off a leg revealed undercooked meat. Fucking great. Somewhere inside I was livid — partly at myself for not taking point on the bird. It turned out okay, the skin crisped up extra nice, but, you know, uh, shit. I’m gonna go watch some Law and Order.

If you like scratchin’ and hip hop and shit like that, yo, you should motherfucking check out the Gray Kid’s weird little online EP thing: “The Pilgrimage: Y’All Some Turkeys.”

Aw shit, motherfuckers, just listen to this fucking shit drop. That’s some fucked up SID chip action:

I don’t think that I can possibly ever swear enough.

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Uh Oh

I think that I could take down a two and a half cases of Summit by myself no problem.

But can I do it before the end of Law and Order?

Maybe I should have a party.

Oh yeah, Stan and I went to see Borat tonight. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time, even though the New York scenes brought back fond memories that made me all sad. Damn you for pinching a loaf in a planter, Sasha Baron Cohen! DAMN YOU!

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Let’s see what I’m thankful for this year:
1) Flying a giant peach across the ocean
2) Landing on top of the tallest building in the world

Oh, wait, no, that’s James and the Giant Peach, which Noah is watching while I “babysit” him, for sufficiently lazy definitions of “babysitting.”

I could make a list of all sorts of things for which I am grateful, or the people who are close to my heart, but I have to go break the television so that I don’t have to listen to Randy Newman yowl like a horny cat with a speech impediment.

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There Is Blood On Our Hands Again

Have you ever noticed that no matter how loud you listen to Death From Above 1979 it is not anywhere near loud enough?

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You’ll Have To Pick Just Three

Chinese Translation

It’s even better if you translate it into Chinese and back again. I’ll leave that up to you, songmeanings.net and google translate.

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