Wanna Get Paid to Write for Literate Ape?
When we started Literate Ape, the primary goal was to be able to pay writers to write.
We do our many events (including Identity Flip, The Sickest Fucking Stories I Ever Heard and the upcoming BUGHOUSE!) so that we can use the money made at the box office to pay our contributors. Eventually, I'll put on my pasties and fish net stockings and go out and whore ourselves out for paid sponsors. Why? To pay our writers.
![I Believe... [Dating Advice from John Hughes is BAD]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1501171147852-4GSTXUHP109UYQG7LQGQ/yorick.jpg)
I Believe... [Dating Advice from John Hughes is BAD]
How Old are You in Your Dreams?
Ask around.
When you dream, how old are you in that strange, dusky landscape called your subconscious? Do you know? Does anyone, really?
I don't remember a lot of my dreams. I sleep like a wood carving or a stone tablet. When I'm out, I am out. But when I do remember my dreams, I can't recall what age I may be. It always seems a bit like I'm physically all over the place but mentally the age I am now (which some might argue is about 13). How old should I be?
I, Superhero
The past few summers have set the stage for what some call "too many superhero movies." I just this week went to Spiderman: Homecoming with Ray (I loved it) and am looking forward to Justice League as well as The Defenders on Netflix, Thor: Ragnarok, Black Panther, Gotham City Sirens, etc. I love these multiverses for a variety of reasons.
But Moore, the cracked genius behind Watchmen, V for Vendetta and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, cannot be easily dismissed.
Notes from the Post-It Wall – Week of July 23, 2017
• There is nothing more unattractive to a woman than a vulnerable man.
Cookie, the Cat who Bit Me & Congress, the Sect that Hates Us
UPDATED: July 28, 2017, 6:13 a.m.
The members of Congress, generally, are a cat that terrorizes its counterparts and bullies helpless, fearful people. The majority of the United States Congress is Cookie; a nasty sonofabitch.
There's always been partisanship. However, it seems that partisanship has reached critical mass—that thing Malcolm Gladwell talks about in his very fucking boring book, The Tipping Point. Parties. Power. Influence. Money. These are the things the current Congress cares about. Consider the debate over healthcare.
The Elbow Grease Needs to Be Distributed
When I came to, I was lying on my back on the dirty concrete, my tongue a bit swollen and tasting like I had swallowed a fistful of pennies. My fingertips were blackened and I was seriously thirsty.
I had just electrified myself for the second time, the first only knocking me back a few steps, but this time, it knocked me off my feet and I lay unconscious for a few minutes. I got up to try again.
Remember Minesweeper?
You step on one of those mines, you blow up. You blow up and your intended message gets lost, never reaching the other side of the divide, never closing the gap, even by a millimeter. It never had a chance.
Logging of the Family Tree
In a way, this crabapple tree is a lot like Shel Silverstein’s Giving Tree. The one difference being that we didn’t abuse it and take it for granted the way the little boy did in that story. The prick.
![I Believe...[Dog Sauce, My Ass]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1500577933001-KIX02POVAD62IIAH3353/yorick.jpg)
I Believe...[Dog Sauce, My Ass]
...that Chicago Dog Sauce is both a terrible name for ketchup and the strangest ploy to get Chicago hot dog purists (which is like old lady Hummel figurine collectors and dudes who collect sports tattoos in the precious category) to use a condiment in history. They could’ve called it “Ketchup for Morons” and it would’ve been more honest.
My Own Personal Identity Body Politic
The list of labels can go on forever. How many labels before my identity topples over?
The Long Hello - A Decade In The City of Big Dreams
It’s that rock-bottom feeling, and some new Chicagoan is working thru that feeling right now. I am here to tell her that there is magic and warmth and good things to come on the other side of it. Use your bravery, and your pluck. And stay.
Notes from the Post-it Wall – Week of July 16, 2017
• I have a sex playlist on Spotify called “David’s Sex Playlist.” It’s all break up songs.
Close Enough for Jazz
Jazz is about self expression and intent. Orchestral playing is about precision and perfection. Perfection scares the shit out of me. Jazz is about listening and composing and riffing. Orchestral playing is about becoming a cog in a larger clock and nailing your small piece of the composition at exactly the right time in exactly the right pitch.
A recital is about all of that fucking perfection except all by yourself.
And triple tonguing is killing me.
My Friend Ken Manthey Couldn't Handle Pineapple Pizza
Last week, Ken was admitted to Elmhurst Memorial Hospital for pain in his stomach and back. Monday morning, Ken died from pancreatic cancer. It was fast. I spoke to him briefly on Friday. He knew was going to die. We agreed that he would wait until Monday (when I could visit him to say farewell) but he exited almost exactly 45 minutes before I got there.
![I Believe...[We Love Our Guns]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1499967916932-Y8GVXVSX1R941D554SOF/yorick.jpg)
I Believe...[We Love Our Guns]
...that arts education teaches empathy on multiple levels and sports teaches competitiveness. Is it any wonder that we have churned out two generations of people who see empathy as a competition?
San Francisco's Race Problem
The Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) system, which serves the San Francisco Bay area is having some problems. In the last 90 or so days, three attacks on its riders have been perpetrated by a group of teenagers. The attacks have included robberies, beatings, harassments—you know, general mischievous teenage behavior gone terribly awry.
The hooligans haven’t been caught. And part of the reason for that is BART’s fault. It’s not releasing the surveillance videos.
My Wife Hides Ice Cream Sandwiches from Me
The beauty of freelance, working-from-home life is that I can type this right now wearing a pink thong and lipstick on my nipples and no one is the wiser. The ugly is that there is a refrigerator with food I chose to stock a mere 15 steps from my desk.
A Push from the Thin
Dylan encouraged us (through his fog and haze of liquor) to 'Rage, rage against the dying of the light" and we interpret the light as our corporeal mortality. Perhaps the light is the ideals of humanity that make us bigger than our days. Perhaps the light is a compilation of the gestures that make our lives bricks of a cathedral we're all building, one life at a time, a legacy of civilization that transcends our individual flickers that points to a beacon for all who come after to follow.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of July 9, 2017
• If you’re mad that Patton Oswalt is engaged a little more than a year after his first wife died, you’re a jerk. Simple as that. Who are you to understand one person’s heart and how it heals and what it needs and how it loves? You need to reduce your desire for outrage and leave people alone.
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.