09 Saturday Nov 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
The only thing worse than a nostalgic narcissist is a nostalgic narcissist with internet access and a back catalogue. Of all the features from the old site this was the hardest to explain in person. Essentially it was a list of things that I considered Happening juxtaposed by a tangentially related thing that was Not Happening. Of everything I wrote these were the surrealist and most reflective of my personal sense of humor. Taste may vary.
Let’s nostalgia together:
06 Wednesday Nov 2013
Posted in Prose
I do not have a cell phone. I used to have a burner but they took away my number because I left it in a drawer and then forgot. While I didn’t miss the phone I liked that number, and the idea that I couldn’t meet a standard of care drug dealers, dead beat dads, and escapes cons manage was troubling. I called Telus from a land line and asked if I could trade in my phone for just the number. I’d rather a soul than a corpse. They tried to sell me an I-Phone with a three year plan. I told them I couldn’t own something more ambitious than me and besides I did have a credit card. They said I lacked essential numbers and suggested I get my life in order. Continue reading
30 Wednesday Oct 2013
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Though I did not intrude this is not my house, my soap bubble welcome held by certain tension, shimmering as it thins. The white and wood and weight of the walls come unstuck in the still of attempted concentration. I feel an imposter when I write. A correspondent. Worrying at tethers, trying to drift foreign in the obligatory gap.
24 Thursday Oct 2013
Posted in Prose
I do not remember how I learned about slavery. I heard the word quite early, in the bible and in Greek mythology, but figured it for one of those terrible ancient things like dinosaurs or crucifixion. My awareness of modern slavery came later. No one explained it. It was one of those distasteful/irrelevant/not fit for children things that adults refused to engage me on. Still I was curious so I manage to piece together a rough awareness from circumspect mentions in the books about war and history and moral quandary that were available to a sub-ten year old. At the time I conceptualized it as having very bad parents who never let you grow up and could give you away if you displeased them.
16 Wednesday Oct 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
Following a long standing policy of early adoption I’ve gotten on twitter. Well, I technically got on it two years ago when I signed up, but today was my first update. Somehow I already had six followers. I was initially humbled by their patience. Ten minutes and six posts later I feel deeply slighted by the sparseness of my audience and their stubborn unwillingness to be more people. There is a dizzyingly short reward cycle to this medium.
The countdown for my inevitable first racist/sexist/liable remark, and attendant public apology, has begun. Smart odds currently have it at six days; the number comes off the board once regular season NBA start. I’ve been doing push ups between feed checks in preparation for my first shirtless selfie. Tomorrow I stock up on chest wax and purchase a digital camera…maybe swing by Bed, Bath & Beyond to pickup some tasteful pot lights to give the old mug a more forgiving soft focus. Why didn’t they have this when I was twenty. Good times.
07 Monday Oct 2013
Posted in Reviews
Music journalism is saturated with timely critique by thoughtful taste makers, we here at Sam The Turtle prefer to operate in the post trendy-pre retro undereducated opinion space. We are behind the curve, but you’d be surprised by what you can see half a lap back. Today I listened to Yeezus.
Kayne wants everything more than I want anything and feels worse about having gotten it than a starving orphan. By his account no one has ever understood him, given him his due, or allowed him to finish a thought. Yeezus is his tantrum to that effect.
This is the howl of Narcissus drowning, the crunch of Scrooge being crushed by shifting bullion on a late night money bin swim, and fuck me if it isn’t amazing. How can something this self serving and unwarranted be this visceral and affecting?
Flawed But Fixable 