The Wonder of the New Year
I wonder how love will bloom this New Year’s Eve. I wonder what kind of chaos will ensnarl itself in this year’s revelries. The hours leading up to the countdown and those first few fleshy pink hours of 2023 are critical. Critical in our human minds, anyway—Time and Space cannot care. And I wonder which way those hours will go and for whom and what it will eventually mean.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 25, 2022
A poop before breakfast does not get enough celebratory attention.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 18, 2022
Christmas always feels most magical when the man wearing an elf’s hat takes a leak in your CTA Blue Line car.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 11, 2022
More of those JFK files have been released. Still, a lot of CIA info remains redacted. They don’t want us to know their practices, which is fair. National security and all that. But, they also don’t want us to know how they killed him.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 4, 2022
Revolutions don’t die; people grow tired.
Still Got It
Part of getting older is realizing that you are, in fact, older. And in many cases, we age out of our horned up youth into a relaxed state of domestication. But it’s naturally human to wonder if you still got it. If you’re still an object of interest—not affection—to the people you meet or even pass on the street or at Target on Sunday mornings.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 27, 2022
What’s worse than a cold bathroom? The Holocaust. That’s it.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Thanksgiving Week 2022
You know the holiday season has begun when the clerk at the clothing stores barks at you to form the line “back there!” Joy to the world.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 13, 2022
Trump announcing his candidacy for the presidency is exactly the same as me announcing I’m going to have a bowel movement within five hours after eating McDonald’s. It’s obvious and the result will be a foul mess that’ll take quite a while to clean up.
![[Reissued] Suicidal Tendencies and Hägar the Well-Timed Horrible](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1667681297833-QKTIRLZTOAGKF24WAV9O/Screenshot+2022-11-05+at+3.47.52+PM.png)
[Reissued] Suicidal Tendencies and Hägar the Well-Timed Horrible
You can kill your pain and sadness that you had carried with you all those years. But you can’t kill the pain and sadness you’ve now created and left behind.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 6, 2022
When you don’t know where to go, go back to the start.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 30, 2022
Childhood goes by fast. When you’re a parent, it goes by even faster.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of July 17, 2022
Parenthood is, by far, the trippiest, mind bending, and just straight up weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 23, 2022
In matters of family planning—that is, choosing a mate—keep in mind that the money will come; the love doesn’t always show up. Don’t let money buy your heart.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 9, 2022
It’s not surprising that no one from Marjorie Taylor Greene’s high school has come forward to say, “You know, she was really cool and mellow, and smart back then.” That’s because we are who we’ve always been.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of October 2, 2022
While it’s not fun to see Tom Brady’s marriage deflate like one of his footballs, it does feel like some kind of justice.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 25, 2022
Serious question for women: When you put your Birkenstocks on, can you hear every straight man’s penis shriveling up, dying, and falling off?
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 18, 2022
It’s not a cheers, it’s a toast. You say “Cheers!” during a toast.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 11, 2022
How many Amazon delivery trucks are repurposed UPS delivery trucks? Any number is enough to make me laugh at the irony of good business.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 4, 2022
Imagine being Queen Elizabeth II… having the same job for seventy years and never really having to lift a finger to get any work done. And being rich as fuck the whole time. What a weird life.
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.