Adventure is where you find it. In the midst of the city that always sleeps, we find our fun amongst the holographic Jesuses and the giant rubber phalluses. We carouse through Chinese takeouts, we snap photos of gummi sharks, we almost get struck by cars as we discuss the original Lord of the Rings. The buildings may all be boarded up and dead inside, but here in the swampy heat, we reconfirm our existence one lunch at a time.

Photo - N
Words - S

I watch you over the rim of my coffee cup. Our diner booth a universe all to its own. The sugar, salt and pepper line up like planets. Creamer swirls like the milky way and I can no longer deny your gravity. We kiss. I see stars. Our heavenly bodies mix and mingle and a new world is born.

Photo - N
Words - N

There is a cemetery in the middle of downtown. They are coming. I hear them stirring under the grass and all the piegons have left the square. I hope the zombies don't rise during rush hour. It would make my commute murder.

Words - N
Photo - N

Midnight from the Inside Out

Sometimes when you shut your eyes tight and allow the music to flow through you, and the city and trains surround you, and you have your friends around you, sometimes, you can forget that tomorrow that you will go back to paying the bills and sitting in the chair that you don’t want to sit in anymore. The lights get all in swirls and people are all dancing and the smells coalesce into a potent mixture of grass and sweat. And you can pretend that your knees don’t hurt anymore and that you aren’t old anymore and that when you wake up you won’t regret staying up past your bedtime.

Photo – N
Words – S

As a postscript, we would like a chance to talk to the rock stars of the world. Because sooner or later, we are going to get our own band together and blow you all off the fucking stage. So in the interest of helping all of you, we’d like to give you some advice. We know that you all like to jam out, but we need to be at work at 8. So that means that, for now, until we start doing coke and hitting the road, we’d like to hear as many songs as possible. Not just drum solos. And the encores? We know you’re coming back out. Why not just play, take a break when you need to (really, we’ll be understanding) and then say, good bye when you’re done? And don’t clap for yourself. It all seems rather incongruous.

Anyways, you have a year or two to be rocking. Because that’s about when the two of us will get fed up with the direction of the way things are rolling and get together and be like, The Velvet Underground mixed with De La Soul. Or something. With lots of feedback and drugs.

The rain fell like tears. Big drops falling slowly. The book lay in
Tatters, dirty from years of thumbing and flipping. Dog eared pages and a faded cover. The irony of the situation was not lost on me. A weary book, reeking with despair and teeming with sadness. Wet in a quarter box on the edge of the West Virgina line. You ask where the irony is... well this book changed part of history. Its pages are filled with tales of woe about the very hills it is a stone throw away
from. Once upon a time, this book sounded the horn for the people of the Appalachia, causing millions of dollars of aid to be sent to the mountains.

Now, who will sound the horn for it? I tried, but the pages crumbled beneath my fingers and fell like the rain, finally resting in the mud.

How easy we forget our prizes. I look around at the people digging through bins of junk searching for treasure. Keep looking; it’s there – hidden messages, pieces of history, and long lost wishes rest at the bottom of the $1 bin.

Photo - S
Words - N

Where are you?

It's been awhile since we updated.

N has been working her butt off. I've seen it. It's disappeared and is flying all over the city. She's in class, she's helping young goth kids to stop their tears from decimating their makeup. She's a trooper.

Me, I've been working. Trying to figure out the grand plan and what I have to do to get off the giant spinning wheel.

We made this baby blog for all of you and sometimes, we neglect it. But like a wild child raised by pigs in the jungle, it will not die. It just laughs and crawls through the dirt, growing stronger.

Sure.

Maybe we really should do a real update sooner than later.

You're all in our prayers,
S and N

One day when I was 12, I sat in the woods and cried.

I looked out at the city and tears kept raining down my face.

Sad for just the idea of being sad.

I wish I knew now what I knew then. I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to grow up.

And I would have stayed in those woods.

Photo - N
Words - S

The legal district used to be Chinatown. But all the lawyers forced them out.

Except for one place.

And that place must be the toughest Chinese place in town.



They’re surly. Just look at how they put the black lettered poster out every morning, daring the lawyers to do something about it.

The lawyers are weak. They love the poo-poo platter and crab rangoon too much to do anything about the brazen Chinese chefs.

And to their chagrin, as they try in vain to learn how to use chopsticks, the cooks all laugh at them and their pitiful Western legalese ways.

Photo - S
Words - S (but really, N told me the story and I just made it a fake history of a real city)

It’s been winter a long time. And sometimes, I wonder if spring even remembers our name. Don’t forget to call, April showers. Come back soon, May flowers. My feet are permafrosted to the ground.

Photo - N
Words - S

I never want to meet my heroes.

When I was a kid, like every kid growing up here, Willie Stargell was my hero.

We used to wait after the games to see him.

I was in awe, there he was, “Pops,” coming out of the team room and walking toward the bus. Trembling, pen and paper in hand waiting for his signature.

He shoved me to the curb in the rush of people.

I was sad for a long time.

But now I’m wise.

And that’s why I never want to meet my heroes.

Photo – S
Words – S

I have no idea who wrote this and a vague idea of what it means.

I took the photo, but I didn't make the art. I just thought this was a great place to put it. The scary part is, it was in the middle of the street in downtown, off Forbes. It's a really busy street and I almost got hit twice taking this picture of the street.

You see new things in the city when you walk through it at 6 AM.

N, do you know what this means?

Photo - S
Words - S

The car represents freedom. Sure, the wheels have fallen off, but as long as I look outside and see it, I know that the two of us can get out of here any time we want. A few days work and it’ll run. We’ll roll down the windows and plot our course for Mexico. Or Michigan. Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here. Far away from desks and migraines and stupid fucking inflatable fish.

Photo – N
Words – S

I feel really cold now. I used to never feel cold. Or at least I didn’t worry about it. But today, I held the paper from the printer and it was so warm to my touch, it felt like it was keeping me toasty and safe as I stand in a frigid world.

I’m sure the paper wasn’t trying to tell me anything.

Photo - N
Words - S

Get motivated

Photo - N
Words - S

My past self watches over me now like Batman watches over Gotham. Meaning, I base a lot of my decisions on how the 16 year old me would view the 33 year old me. And right now, he’s been yelling at me quite a bit. Today, he’s grabbing me by the back of the head and slamming it repeatedly into my desk, screaming about how dare I give in to people. Every day, I sit here, with sixteen year old long haired black t-shirt and jeans wearing me laughing, cajoling, chiding.

Once, I met a class of kids about what I do, and they said, how do you keep from selling out? My answer was that, well, selling out gets different as you get older. You buy a house. You get married. You have to smile through shitty teeth to people you hate, from time to all the time, just to keep your nose above the sewer water.

16 year me has no idea what I’m talking about. Then I remember, hey, 16 year old me couldn’t even get a date t save his life. So whatever, kid.

Photo – N
Words – S

The end of a party always makes me sad. The planning is over and all that remains is to still clear up. Sure, you’ll have plenty of potato chips and food as leftovers for days to come, but you won’t have the people that you invited. And worse, the people who you invited and for some reason, couldn’t make it. I have one friend, whom I consider one of my best friends, but every time you make plans with him, it’s kind of like you have to go through these elaborate hoops to have him attend your party. And then, he comes very late and leaves very early. It kind of makes me wonder why I even go to the trouble of inviting him. The entirety of his visit consists of him eating, talking on his cell, and text messaging. I find someone who text messages while I’m trying to talk to them to be ruder than someone who doesn’t show up or tell you they won’t show up to your party. Because at least then, there’s no physical evidence that they were there. It’s like, I showed up, but I have better people to talk to than you and I’m going to do it in nonlinear sentences and code while you put out all this spread and hoped people would have a good time. In truth, that sums up my friend: he’s always looking for a better party, a hotter girl, the next best thing. Maybe I settle. No, I don’t. I think, in truth, what I do is realize that there’s more to life than getting the next version of something. That certain things improve with age and use. Sadly, he’s too busy staring at the LED screen on his phone to notice.

Photo – N
Words – S

Every time I eat a pirogue, it makes me proud. And wistful. It reminds me that I’m tied to some part of my heritage. My grandfather used to make big batches of pirogues that blew anything frozen that you can buy today. It amazes me at times that someone so big and strong was so adept in the kitchen and grocery shopping. He didn’t try to teach me anything, but in the way he lived his life I learned a lot about the way that I should eat mine. I have also noticed that my pirogue consumption, over time, has lessened. Maybe that’s good for my heart. Because in my youth, I could easily eat two dozen. I try and make six my limit, now.

Photo – N
Words - S

Guest writer - Bree

Sadly, work has made a mockery of my writing in the last week or so. I promise to try and write some things today.

We do have a guest, though. I really like what she wrote. - S



words: Puddles. When I was younger, I loved puddles: the incredible sound of my yellow goulashes landing right in the middle of the tiny, temporary lake; the round spots of mud that ended up splattered on the backs of my pants or dresses for which my mother always scolded me; the just-hatched tadpoles we'd find, and catch, in the most stagnant pools on paths in the woods. Puddles were, in short, my childhood.

Now I walk around puddles; my black pumps would not protect me from the agony of 8 hours of soggy pantyhose, feet, and shoes. I stand here waiting for the bus. I see the city's reflection in the gutters below. Cars sloosh by, and I jump back at every pass for fear of being splashed. The mud would ruin my pressed suit. There are no tadpoles here. Just cigarette butts, gravel from the asphalt, and memories.

Photo - N
Words - B

I've been trying to find my voice, the moment is now. Say the things that need to be said. Shed this image of what you think I am, of what I have been, to become what I will be. I will be free. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I stand frozen as time passes me by once again.

Photo - N
Words - N

There is a song called "What I Am." I generally like the song. The Edie Brickell version being the one I've heard. These are some of the lyrics:

"I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean
Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box
Religion is the smile on a dog
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean, d-doo yeah"

It's the smile on a dog line that gets me. What does that mean? Is it slanderous to religion? Or quite the opposite?

My dog smiles and it's the thing that's gotten me through this week. I printed the photo and put it on my cube. Whenever I've gotten mad and frustrated, I look at the photo and have smiled. I feel at peace, I laugh, I realize that everything is ok because soon I will be at home. Maybe religion is like a smile on a dog. It makes people feel warm and fuzzy. Comfortable, not alone in this big crazy mixed up world.

Picture - N
Words - N