Falling and Laughing

K., Erik, 1977– Falling and laughing Chicago: 2007. p. : ill. (some col.); imaginary dimensions. Coarse language sometimes used. Non-fiction, except for bits fabricated by author. SUMMARY: Music-, dog-, word-besotted Chicago man discovers he enjoys talking back to the internet. Fun times ensue. SEE ALSO: SUBJECTS OCCUPATION: Lapsed librarian, current designer, aspiring flâconteur (rare minotaur-like creature that is half flâneur, half raconteur).

SUBJECTS Falling and laughing 1. Thoughts--their shape. 2. Thoughts--ones had while walking dog. 3. Thoughts--ones that made me laugh. 4. Thoughts--the kind I’ve got. 5. Spleen--its venting. 6. Japery--assorted. 7. Words. 8. Music. 9. Books. 10. Obsessions--varied. 11. Animals--facts. 12. Animals--made-up things.  13. Dogs--beloved halfling Rottweiler. 14. Birds-- the bowerbird. 15. Birds--the great bustard. 16. Illinois--Chicago--residents--lives and customs. 17. Happiness--its pursuit.

Close Drawer

Not so much surprised at Mitt Romney once again being an ass and issuing comments that make him seem like a cartoon version of a megamillionaire, blissfully unaware of his rarefied status—he’ll keep doing that all the live-long day—as I am intrigued by the appearance on the scene of the Republican nomination process of a second pizza tycoon. First, I just like how those words go together. Pizza tycoon. Pizza tycoon. Pizza tycoon. Second, I wonder how many more there are out there, waiting in the wings for their turn in the Republication nomination process. Will Phinneas Q. Tombstone III be revealed as a major SuperPAC donor? Will the notorious DiGiorno pizza/crime family be outed as having made Rick Santorum an offer he couldn’t refuse shortly before he exited the race? Will the plutocrat behind the vast Bagel Bites empire be caught in bed with a bonobo during the Republican Convention? The mind reels. All I can say is, keep these worshippers at the temple of pizza-mammon coming.

Not so much surprised at Mitt Romney once again being an ass and issuing comments that make him seem like a cartoon version of a megamillionaire, blissfully unaware of his rarefied status—he’ll keep doing that all the live-long day—as I am intrigued by the appearance on the scene of the Republican nomination process of a second pizza tycoon. First, I just like how those words go together. Pizza tycoon. Pizza tycoon. Pizza tycoon. Second, I wonder how many more there are out there, waiting in the wings for their turn in the Republication nomination process. Will Phinneas Q. Tombstone III be revealed as a major SuperPAC donor? Will the notorious DiGiorno pizza/crime family be outed as having made Rick Santorum an offer he couldn’t refuse shortly before he exited the race? Will the plutocrat behind the vast Bagel Bites empire be caught in bed with a bonobo during the Republican Convention? The mind reels. All I can say is, keep these worshippers at the temple of pizza-mammon coming.

2 May 2012 //
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A valid ass

A valid ass

12:45 PM //
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Delightful illustration by the delightful Naomi Wilkinson.

Delightful illustration by the delightful Naomi Wilkinson.

8:18 AM //
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Workshopping a dope rhyme for a Kool Keith-type rapper whose boasting point is drinking a lot of coffee

I drink so much strong brew
I teleport to Peru.
Machu Picchu. Cusco.
Llama. [unintelligible] 

1 May 2012 //
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“Kill For Love,” Chromatics Although I still have the recently posted first track of the new Chromatics album on heavy repeat, my can’t-stop-playing-it obsession has moved on to… the second track. A seminal album from my callow youth was Mogwai’s Young Team. It opened with a woman intoning, tremulously, a little breathlessly, If someone said that Mogwai are the stars, I would not object. If the stars had a sound, it would sound like this. That has always stuck with me, and right now, if someone said that “Kill for Love” was the stars, I would not object. This song makes me want to scrawl KILL 4 LOVE all over a spiral bound notebook, in ballpoint, in pencil, in highlighter; in block letters, in flame letters, in script.

“Kill For Love,” Chromatics

Although I still have the recently posted first track of the new Chromatics album on heavy repeat, my can’t-stop-playing-it obsession has moved on to… the second track. A seminal album from my callow youth was Mogwai’s Young Team. It opened with a woman intoning, tremulously, a little breathlessly, If someone said that Mogwai are the stars, I would not object. If the stars had a sound, it would sound like this. That has always stuck with me, and right now, if someone said that “Kill for Love” was the stars, I would not object. This song makes me want to scrawl KILL 4 LOVE all over a spiral bound notebook, in ballpoint, in pencil, in highlighter; in block letters, in flame letters, in script.

1:27 PM //
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Pro-Stars/Pro-Sky: Adieu, les feral blades

TACKY SELF-REBLOG ALERT! Feral Blades is now Pro-Stars/Pro-Sky. Join me over there if you’re interested in such subjects as two pills hanging out and doing stuff, some demands I have, my supercool typeface collection, and my wife who it turns out is a ghost.

pro-stars-pro-sky:

“Feral blades” was a term that popped into my head out of nowhere early one morning as I walked my dog. I did a drawing of a roving band of these no-goodniks, and liked it well enough that I decided to name my new blog after it, never thinking that this same combination of two words would have ever smashed themselves together in someone else’s addled brain.

Well. Last night I googled “feral blades” for the first time, and found out that not only had someone else come up with the phrase, they were using it for a bleedin’ webcomic. I also found out that a Feral Blade is an item in World of Warcraft, viz. a green one-handed sword with an item level of 13. Not wanting to step on anyone’s webcomic toes, and not wanting to be confused with a WoW fanblog, I’ve decided to change names. Feral Blades is now Pro-Stars/Pro-Sky, after one of my favorite Destroyer lyrics. (I decided “Oh world! You fucking explosion that turns us around!” might make for an unwieldy URL.) Feral Blades, I shall remember you fondly, but it’s time to move on. Cut on, you crazy blades.
6:50 AM //
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Not a bad deal for the Internet. I’d expect to pay something more like $87 trillion, minimum.

Not a bad deal for the Internet. I’d expect to pay something more like $87 trillion, minimum.

30 Apr 2012 //
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A Dream I Can’t Shake

“No one wants to hear
What you dreamt about
Unless you dreamt about
                        Them”
­­–Built to Spill

NB: What follows is both tl;dr and not mirthful. It is an EERIE TALE OF THE UNCANNY. I don’t want to clog your dash, so should you wish to continue… 

Read More

10:31 AM //
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New life goal: to be possessed of such epic life force that those around me speculate I have a surfeit of “glands.” Awesome and slightly queasymaking turn of phrase found in http://nyti.ms/Jjl6Ad

New life goal: to be possessed of such epic life force that those around me speculate I have a surfeit of “glands.” Awesome and slightly queasymaking turn of phrase found in http://nyti.ms/Jjl6Ad

6:32 AM //
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Thank you, wise client K—, for informing me that a rectangular image would need to be cropped to fit the square space allocated for it on the homepage. I think K— is on to me: he knows that I didn’t go to graphic design school and that I’m just faking it. Alas, nothing should surprise me, as this is the project where I’m sometimes known as “Paul.”

Thank you, wise client K—, for informing me that a rectangular image would need to be cropped to fit the square space allocated for it on the homepage. I think K— is on to me: he knows that I didn’t go to graphic design school and that I’m just faking it.

Alas, nothing should surprise me, as this is the project where I’m sometimes known as “Paul.”

29 Apr 2012 //
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