• sungod prayers

    Days have been long—the nights, rather, excruciatingly lightless, while time drops like a depth charge out of my control. I’d’ve been all over this forever night nonsense were I, say, fourteen and goth. Unfortunately (?) I’m adult and postmodern (postpunk, postrave, postyouth, postal) and prime to succumb to seasonal affective disorder. Thank god (ahem—a mangered

  • achieving objections

    Given the past several deepsicks updates and subsequent discussions, the past several months of my real-life tuning in, fully intellectually engaged and emotionally invested ’cause I care so much and want so much positive things for the nation and world, I suppose a few words are in order. Enough time has passed to suggest thought-out,

  • fundrazing

    Coming home from work Wednesday, pulling off downhill parallel parking with ease, some ten-year-olds on cool bikes accost me as I get out of my car. “Do you want to buy a C-Book so we can buy a new teacher?” “A new teacher?!” “Yeah, and we don’t have any gym stuff, either.” “Huh. What’s a

  • deter.mining

    I have grown weary of the politics of not talking about politics. As Election 2004 approaches, we are bombarded with misinfotainment and general media absurdity (both ketchup and mustard?). Being blessed without cable television, I’ve been able to avoid the majority of the least common denominator noise brought to us by filled with blanks. But

  • warmer

    It’s been over a month since my last update. I would love to regale all with tales of fantastica, but not much of celebratory or even noteworthy note’s been going on. Joy’s concrete but diffuse and too tied to the dark too deep, especially when I’m out of it. Saturday morning I got up at

  • not safe for humans

    i swore i wouldn’t watch it. the moment i heard it happened, i swore i didn’t want to see. it was linked from a friend’s site. “not safe for work, life, humans” is all it said, and curiosity clicked. when the media player stalled at the opening, i knew immediately this is it but only

  • happy new year

    I don’t make resolutions, I make demands, and I want to get what I want. I want a job I care about that’s not in a suburb, I want to return to Uptown slash “that feeling,” and I want to ride a bike everywhere I need and would care to go. Yesterday I saw the

  • r.i.p. x.o.

    Next Tuesday the 28th, Prefuse 73 plays at the 400 Bar. Shortly over a year ago, I vowed never to return to that venue—humid, smoky, and insufferably jammed—where I witnessed one of the musicians I admired the most make an ass of himself and a fool of me. I don’t know whether he was drunk

  • catching up

    Sometime in 2000 Fargo-friend Luke asked if I went to the Marilyn Manson concert. I probably snickered. I remember being curious but not enough to pay to stand in one spot at the seats-only venue, especially without being a fan. I would’ve been bored. Probably would’ve broken something. “You missed out,” Luke told me, and

  • the therebefore

    Friday after work I drove to Fargo doubting, was I doing the right thing? hanging onto seven years that hang and hold me. One of the very few things that happened that happened in The Teaching Emotion is that a nobody band named AFI played in a basement in West Fargo, North Dakota, September 27,