Michael Kindt's Blog, page 506
July 1, 2011
deadhen replied to your post: Any author that sounds at least a little like me through your short...
I read through two of his books on the insistence of a friend and hated it. He was a pretentious twat and the only positive things I took from his work were that I wanted to be a peeping tom and a lipstick lesbian when I grew up. Otherwise, eh.
Well, fuck. I don't want to be like him! The same guy compared me to David Sedaris, whom I have read and liked (some). I'm meaner and more profane, though :)
Any author that sounds at least a little like me through your short sidebar description, has been compared to Augusten Burroughs, and whose work has been described as "uniquely fucked up" is not only enough to get me to follow them back, but also to read t
Cool and thanks. I've never read Augusten Burroughs, but that's what a reviewer said, so who knows? Personally, I think I write like Michael Kindt :)
June 30, 2011
Devil's Tower, June 27th, about 70 miles from here.
Devil's Tower, June 27th, about 70 miles from here.
Cannot wait. Can. Not. Fucking. Wait.
But, technically, this is...
Cannot wait. Can. Not. Fucking. Wait.
But, technically, this is illegal, because, you know, I'm avoiding sales tax. This is tobacco, by the way, snus specifically. How hilarious that taxes have been raised so much that it's cheaper to have it shipped ALL THE WAY FROM FUCKING SWEDEN than to get it here.
American state legislatures = hotbeds of genius and foresight. They want people to pay really high taxes and so raise them to the point where people just get what they want out-of-state or even out-of-country and so pay NO taxes. To combat this, they have to make such activity illegal, creating a bunch of criminals that have to be investigated and prosecuted (if possible). That costs money. So, they reduce the amount of tax they collect by raising taxes too high AND increase law enforcement costs to boot.
Fucking Einsteins they are.
Chief Executive of Wimbledon, Ian Ritchie, is seen here so happy...
Chief Executive of Wimbledon, Ian Ritchie, is seen here so happy about the grunt and squeal reduction device employed by the BBC he could just shit.
Long plagued by the unearthly, vaguely sexual grunting and squealing of top players, tennis fans now have a recourse: the BBC, which has launched Wimbledon Net Mix. The program, or since we are talking about England, programme, allows viewers of this year's Wimbledon to turn down the howling and turn up the commentating.
Alec Berg, a self-described "huge-ass Maria Sharapova fan" said the device will come in handy. "It'll make it easier to concentrate. She already turns me on just lookin' at her, but when I hear her panting and grunting like that, it's all I can do to keep from whipping it out and going to town right there in front of everybody."
The delectable Sharapova often exceeds 100 decibels on the court.
For the moment, Wimbledon Net Mix will only allow listeners to play with the sound on Centre Court matches, but plans are in the works to expand it even beyond tennis.
"We think it would work great on moronic, brain-dead MTV programming," said BBC spokesman Clyde Lymp. "Imagine if you could turn off Snooki or get those whiny bitches on 16 and Pregnant to shut the fuck up."
more info
June 29, 2011
The Last Supper New Year's Day, 2011. I had just...
The Last Supper
New Year's Day, 2011. I had just done the dishes and was wiping off the counter when out from behind the flour jar came a yellow jacket trundling.
You might call him a wasp.
He was vivid and frightening-looking, stream-lined, clashing colors of orange-yellow with black. Contrasting stripes. Creepy triangle head sporting two large too-large soulless eyes that could never blink back tears of rage or sadness. Behind him were severe, sleek wings.
He was dying. It has been winter for months and how, I wondered, did he get behind my flour jar? Why? How long had he been there? I moved my eyes slightly to look out the window at the frozen world of snow and ice. Peripherally, I could still see him, trundling.
I looked at him directly again and watched as he inspected, then disregarded a crumb. I could tell flight was beyond him. He trundled on to another crumb, which he also disregarded. His antennae waved and felt.
I decided he was hungry—and old—but hungry I could handle. To the fruit bowl I traipsed, in full flush of youth, and retrieved a Granny Smith apple. Using my thumbnail, I removed a bit of its flesh, no bigger than a rice grain, and placed it in front of him trundling.
Trundling is a word, isn't it?
He liked my offering and partook, settling in. I watched as his mouth parts made weird, minuscule movements. I think I spotted a tongue-like thing and was, for some reason, delighted.
Long did he munch. I grew bored, did other things. Occasionally, I would go back to the kitchen and there he'd be, working away at his tiny apple piece. So long did he munch, in fact, that the whiteness of the flesh became brown, which is common with apples. They age easily, do apples, if you remove the tough cloaking skin and expose the soft sweetness to air and light.
I wondered if, refreshed, he would now take disturbing buzzing flight around my head. He didn't, though. He just ate and ate, creating a much smaller piece of apple out of an already small piece of apple.
When he was done, quite literally several hours later, he turned and trundled back behind the flour jar. I wondered what was back there, but didn't want to look. He needed his privacy now, I knew instinctively.
He seemed happier as he trundled. He moved more quickly and seemed to have purpose. For the rest of the day, I did not forget about him.
In the morning, I knew it was done, and so moved the flour jar aside and looked upon him dead on his back.
"Goodbye," I should've said, but was silent.
tuibguy replied to your post: So I wrote another article for the CaglePost
Excellent article. Some...
Excellent article. Some of the comments are hilarious, especially the one by KomradeCarl or whatever his name is. He hates that liberals smugly know what is best for other people while defending the NDOP.
Thanks, man. Yeah, the comments can be pretty fun. Yep, I am a firm believer in separation of church and state. I'm actually quite surprised so many are not.
June 28, 2011
In honor of my most recent hater. Um, jealous much?
In honor of my most recent hater. Um, jealous much?
In other news, I found some Coca-Cola in glass bottles at a store. Needless to say, I bought the shit out it.
I love me some glass bottles. I also love me some:
Wooden pencils
