Tuesday, October 20, 2009

nathan writes the next great american controversy.

feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.feeling the lichens of her life crawl up her arms in a duplicitous fashion.

bring your bat and your chopper,
and a first aid Kit,
and some antiseptic,
this could get hectic.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

houston, nathan has a problem: he's in space.

exhibit 15: correct me if i'm wrong, but that's incest. no wonder they were struck down.

renew jam: islands. it's too happy, and too good to not listen to.

focus on: bnr. yes. doing so. unimpressed. the only saving grace of such an album is the occasional heaviness of 2 brothers known as shadowdancer. soap is an epic track. housi is an epic track. the rest is fair at best.

enough of that.


and they still make girl bands? disappointing. do better.

it's not my musical douchebaggery, it's just i've heard them, and i've heard enough, and i don't like what i've heard. my assessment is as follows: }gender{ bands are so fourth grade. they pass in and out of culture and leave the same mark as the last, that is, if they make any mark at all. they perform like banana peels in the hands of a pubescent male: used for one function and thrown out.

maybe i just like indie shit. but let's be honest here: no matter how good the track is, the band isn't perfect. no band is perfect. i prove this point by saying that i believe radiohead (there i said it) is not a perfect band.

maybe it's generational, or worse, gender based. ugh. that would suck. and it probably isn't true. i mean, you know that cher and barbara are still billionaires because of two words: gay people. but i don't listen to them, and i know that the stereotype is just that: a stereotype.

and maybe i'm still bitter about getting my heart broken by a fan of these bands. it's like a freudian association or some shit like that. he was an asshole, not the people who made the music.

but their music still is not "good".

gasoline, saccharine
hotel, taco bell

"nathan, you sit there wishing for something to happen and you just need to get out there."
"it's no use. i'm banned from the club. they got my picture and shit."
"so? go punch out the guys with the picture. they know why they have the picture, but it doesn't tell them how hard you hit."

thank you dana

on that note, the albion community will be shocked at the party i'm throwing next year. the vinyl is in, and the equipment is set up.

next week: art is supposed to comment on culture... right? damn.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

diana ross, are you cold?

because you about to get a blanket.

there were all the people talking and laughing and crying, and she was just standing there stroking his hair and choking out sobs as if he slept soundly. every convulsion seemed to shake her even more than the last, and i was nearing the front of the line. i saw his face and began to search for the door. i wanted to leave, i couldn't do it. this was all too much emotion in one spot. my mouth was dry and papery and i stood, looked at him, and looked to her.

"how are you?"

"i've been better."

"i'm sorry."

and at that moment i found the door.

this week has been some rough gem caught deep within the mines. it was beautiful, picturesque, and devilish.

until again.

Friday, June 12, 2009

pillowy fresh.

"a truly wasted day is one without laughter"
e e cummings

exhibit 14. us.

in loneliness, we see ourselves for who we are; it gives us time to reflect, to think upon what makes us unique. we are finally objective with ourselves, and that's what makes people so cool, despite how awful they can be.

applying to be a bagel slinger tomorrow. hooray.

rene magrite. why are you so incredible?

i want to shake things up.
start a riot.

meet me in the streets; i'll be up 'til dawn.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

nathan does it because everyone else is.

i'm going mad.

exhibit 13.

they say that artists are supposed to comment on culture.


sometimes, we need to let people journey further and further into the land of preface.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

manuel's mouth.

oh yes.
oh yes.
oh yes.
oh yes.

oh no.
oh no.
oh no.
oh no.

mimi merlot, you're the most convincingly non-fictitious character that i know.

i sold a rhubarb crisp today. i was so happy. my feet briefly left the earth.

eric and i are making a tape series. buy them. details.

"fuck closure. when you don't have closure, you create something beautiful. if there isn't any resolution, it doesn't have to be disaster. i mean, things may not come to a definite conclusion, but it may end up alright."

you shed your failures like a raincoat and wake up day after goddamn day as if nothing ever happened, and the world will be better, except it's not.

and you? you can't accept failure as a part of life.

Friday, June 5, 2009

pitter patter goes my heart.

The child yanks with malice at the mother’s blouse as she grinds away at the glass obelisk, the pungent juice flowing slowly down the sides. The toddler in arms is ignored with a militant blank stare into the mint colored plaster. She is taciturn, allowing her deep seated tears to fall down the recently haggard face that she acquisitioned from her husband. The grinding continues until it is nothing but pith. White flecks fall into the juice. They are bitter. She is quiet. She makes lemonade.

She dreams of widowing away in Spain as she squeezes the lemon with a faint sense of awareness. The life she had is but a vestige of reality, humorous at this point. She feels as though now the lichens of her life climb up her arms in a duplicitous fashion; she can live, but moving is a fantasy. She feels each molecule of the drops of moisture on her face, the salt ripping up her pores. The sobs have landed in the yellow fluid beneath her. They are made sourer by the salt, by the tears. They are quiet. They make lemonade.

The child now wails. Unnoticed, it begins to beat against the mother’s chest, the chest that feeds it. It does not see the tears. It does not see the grinding. It does not see the face. It, too, weeps, but out of need for the mother. The mother is busy. She needs the lemonade. The juicer is full of liquid now. She opens her arms and lets the child fall, its head hitting the counter. It is silent. It makes nothing.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


i don't know why you bother. why anyone does is beyond me.

'shit, shit, shit, twyla. what the hell happened to maggie?'

today, bounced on a swing. bounced on a bridge. became a child. loved it. did not become a pedophile in any sense of the word.

got a book in the mail. i've been told to read flannery o'connor by many, so i got a book of hers. enjoying it thus far.

i guess

i am


exhibit 12. don't we all?

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he thought, ‘REPRESS! REPRESS!” It was arduous, it was painful, and he loved it. Keeping the secret that would never be found out; exhilarating.

god, i hate closure.

it is june.
it looks just like the sun.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

nathan cleans out the garage.

broke my toe today. good work.

exhibit 9. what the fuck is this?

exhibit 10. why would you need this?

exhibit 11. identify anything in this picture

it's not my fault you are book smart and street stupid.


Friday, May 22, 2009


exhibit 8. alex and oprah discuss the fate of the automotive industry.

there is a man on my roof right now. the dogs have gone mad.

bonde do role. epic. filthy. brazilian. portuguese. brilliant.

are you trying to fucking kill me.

exhibit 7. yeah, well fuck you too.

no no no, you don't understand. i'm an inhibited motherfucker. if it's not written, i can't even speak.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

nathan becomes the eraser.

look at it out here, it's all falling apart. i'm erasing you and i'm happy!

i have become thom yorke. nirvana reached. death eminent.


eep opp ork ah-ah. the soundtrack of my life. the motion picture soundtrack of my life. let's see how many song references i can make. there's two.

it's like, eric and i need to rage. good thing i found a surprise in my basement to make the raging so much easier. there are no surprises like good surprises.

exhibit 6. fact. it's like the spoonman.

tapes n tapes is on.
and so is st. vincent.


i counted three.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

calloo calloo callay.

exhibit 5. i gain my musical roots. pun intended.

so. american psycho by bret easton ellis. i haven't slept. in a while.

i've found my calling: damage control.

That's alright, I laugh myself sometimes. Ain't a whole lot else you can do.

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

-- Stephen Crane

I found my little pad! Time for some gonzo note taking!


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

corn flake crumbs.

they don't sell them at major retailers. fact.

the story is getting a lot of work done. not fact.

let it happen!

why cyber when you can sext?



this looks a lot cooler in person.

Monday, May 18, 2009

nathan meets victora.

exhibit 4.


standing in line at the post office today. of course there was only one person working and there is practically a line out the door. hilarity ensues as she goes into the back in the middle of talking to a customer and she yelled a litany of expletives before returning to her post.

shortly thereafter, three new attendants suddenly show up for their duty.

LaBlogotheque is GOD.

exhibit 3. new teeth!

last night. writing. produced: “the one who doesn’t move and might be dead but I’m afraid to check because he may or may not eat me I don’t know but get someone else to look after him, okay? Thanks”.

good lord!

slowly losing faith with each day. finally getting all that faith baggage off of my shoulders.


Sunday, May 17, 2009

nathan goes off the grid.

Exhibit 2. A FOOTNOTE!

so i started writing "the story". well, it has a kick ass foreword. heh. alright.

it's not that i don't like you; i just don't like the concept of you.

today, i'm talking to tigers from my cafeteria tray. we can play that song at the end of the night when everyone is drunk. but i'm not drunk. great. have a beer.

and i have yet to get a new phone. so don't contact me. well, contact me, just not by phone. i need the auditory communication. it's nice to not have one. to be alone. fantastic.

all the trees of the field will clap their hands!

Saturday, May 16, 2009

i saw the words.

i chortle as patton does backflips in his grave. mark likes it; says if there was a gay patton it would be him.

lead on, mark. lead on.

youdontbelieveinhappinessbecauseitbringsyoudown. idiot.

exhibit 1. the bringing up of something unrelated to the discussion

i am. very.


it fucking rained last night. i secretly hoped for it to suddenly freeze and watch the world turn into a rink of ice. how pleasant.

What the hell happened Frank? What the hell? WHAT THE HELL?

Eve, calm down. This sort of stuff happens.
Yeah and I expected something like this to happen to someone else, not Paul of all people. Christ, what the HELL was he doing? I could just kill– [realizing what she has just said, she breaks down into a chair].
Eve, please…
How can you just sit there? Paul could be dead. Do you understand? What the hell…
Evelyn! Listen---
And why are you so fucking calm? You have no idea what the hell could be happening to him as we speak. He’s probably dead; is that what you wan---

you seem to think coherence is necessary. there is nothing necessary. one day all of this will come together and make some sense and not end up as a macauly culkin publication.

the plot sickens, indeed.

is there something any more sacred than a vase of flowers. they go untouched until they die. i wish i was that.

and i leave on a positive note. the sun shines, the wind blows, and it all is going to change, enjoy.

nathan goes to war.

(middle finger salute)

enlisting is finished. papers just went through. i may not tell you, but you are free to ask me about it.

suppositions whilst upon the apex of humanity.

there is a fair, yes a fair, in town. i went. it rained. it rained all night. it has yet to stop raining. there were only children there at said fair. all outside with their cigarettes and their chains, grinding them against their teeth, hoping to start something, anything. these children, if we can call them that, have no future. they are jokes in the world. they have their tails, their cheetos, their newport 100s. they know nothing.

then again, i know nothing. and i shall continue to observe them from within the equal walls of ignorance that have been placed around us. they can save faces while i keep up disappearances.

we all have stories. they will be known in due time.

{faintly}reckoner........... you are not to blame for.................{silence}


i shall teach. and i shall learn. and i shall grow when i shake the dirt from my sandals.


you were born alone and will die alone so do whatever the fuck you please in between.

it's that time.

Friday, May 15, 2009

nathan in brugges.


once again, everything is shit. it's orange and bubbly.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

visitation hours.

it's not college when you are home!
you'd think after 20 long years i'd be used to the spin.

animal collective. four days. unable to go. tickets verging on two bens.

alex is going; she goes everywhere.

she is johnny cash.

it's thursday... excellent.

as if lichens began slowly growing up the arm in a duplicitous fashion.

i want my pinhole camera back. maybe if i get it, i'll take advantage of the day ahead.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

christmas skanking at duncan's.

the photocopier has gone mad. it seems as though the concept of committing tax fraud [even as a joke] pushed it over the edge. rest it's soul.

duncan called the other day mentioning his infamous christmas party. he's behind the times. or ahead. i can never tell.

it's may. i don't répondez s'il vous plaît. i have barely had time to regain my footing from the move home.

i continue to fold laundry as i replace my headphones to the upleft and upright positions.

2+2=5 - radiohead
neon bible - arcade fire
toop toop - cassius
erole attak - boys noize
get me away from here, i'm dying - belle and sebastian
bunny ain't no kind of rider - of montreal
cobwebs - animal collective
motor - sebastian
autumn in new york - billie holiday
the calendar hung itself... - bright eyes
john wayne gacy jr. - sufjan stevens

two and two always makes a five.