Sometimes I wonder if you did indeed become a ghost. When I describe you to people, and I describe your transition out of my life, I describe you as a ghost. You came home at midnight, every night, in those last two weeks. I didn’t hear the door open, you came in through a wall. You didn’t say a word to me or even look at me when you came home. You walked past me, two feet away, as I laid on the cot I had set up in the living room. You grabbed an insipid, craftless meal from the kitchen. You walked back to the bedroom, and you closed the door. Sometimes, when you came in, I did what I did as a child when I thought there was a ghost around. I laid still and squeezed my eyelids together as tightly as I could.

I believe that once I walked right through a real ghost. I told you the story, several times probably. Have you met that ghost in your ghostly interactions? Do you remember thay story? My coworkers from the restaurant and I ran around that 230 year old house all night, and we were all drunk. We were exploring and laughing and popping out and scaring each other. Nobody reported any ghost encounters at first, and people got tired and began to go home. In the end it was just a waitress named April and me. We were in the attic, and she was watching me walk around. Suddenly I froze. I felt a sensation like none I had ever felt before. It was hot and cold at the same time. Goosebumps popped up all over my skin. There was a weird, foreign energy that passed through me. I don’t think I ever told you what April and I did after that.

It often feels like a ghost might be watching. It’s never at a time that I would expect. It’s never at a time when I would actually need a ghost. Ghosts aren’t supposed to be ‘reliable’ I guess. They just are. Or they aren’t.

I have many theories about ghosts. Ghosts watch you when you are with your lovers. Ghosts can travel back through time and watch you with your past lovers. Ghosts can even see themselves during the time that they were with you, when they were still in a physical body.

Everybody has a ghost story. You had your ghostly photo with that strange blur of light. The light blur had a human form. I can’t remember now whether that ghost was somebody you knew, or if it was just a random ghost stranger . . . just moving through . . . a clumsy tourist, accidentally caught in somebody else’s photo.

Ghost by Neutral Milk Hotel on Grooveshark


I was just watching an episode of the Louie show and I realized: EVERY situation has humor in it it because EVERY situation is absurd - if you examine it closely enough. Even every day, mundane things: they all contain humor if you peel back the layers and really examine them. All of our efforts are aimed at things which seem great, but which often are ridiculous . . . and our efforts are ridiculous. Sometimes it gets so ridiculous, that we go ahead and take it all the way to the extreme, extremely ridiculous. Because it's all ridiculous. Except being kind. That's the one non-ridiculous thing, being kind.


I really need a hobby. People ask me, "What do you do for fun?" I don't really know what to say. Sometimes I say, "Roam around."

That doesn't sound that fun.

Today, somebody asked me, and I finally said, "Not much. It's kind of sad."

I'm too old and beat up for my old hobbies: pick-up soccer, skateboards, blah blah.

What do I do with my free time? I watch a lot of videos on youtube. I do roam around. I read stuff. I head into bars and drink beer every now and then.

I have been blogging a lot recently. Blogging. That would be a weird answer to what do you do for fun...