I’m starting to think that years are like Star Trek movies: only the even ones are good.

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Filed under: Spleen Venting






    

I got this friendly email from a Sony flack this morning. Note the weird formatting; this thing is a total cut-and-paste job. Not that I expected anything less…

Hello Adam,

Sony Computer Entertainment America (SCEA) has launched a street art advertising campaign as an
innovative way to engage consumers while showing the icon status of the PSP(TM) portable
entertainment system.
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Filed under: General, Spleen Venting






    

So, I’m walking back from Jamie’s place when I come across this newspaper machine that’s surrounded by garbage and covered in stickers. It’s all part of some Sony PSP viral marketing campaign. I ran home to grab my camera to take pictures, but by the time I got back to the newspaper box, someone had cleaned up most of the mess. So, I gathered the rest of the trash (after I took pictures), and I’m going to send it to SCEA. If I get any comments, I’ll let you know.

Filed under: Spleen Venting






    

Here’s the thing: I’m infertile. Really. For all my lustiness, my buckling of swash, my war cries of love that frighten the neighborhood children and send people running for church, my boys just don’t swim. They barely twitch. I don’t know how long this has been going on, but I’m pretty sure it means I didn’t have to be concerned with birth control (which means I want a refund, you overpriced bastards). (more…)

Filed under: Real Stories






    

Eight years ago, I’d have these nights where I couldn’t sleep, so I’d roll out of bed, huddle in front of the keyboard and write.

What I wrote probably wasn’t that great. Twentysomething angst plus crap job plus living solo equals tortured prose. Every time I think about putting everything I’ve written online into this site, I cringe. It’s like looking at those college pictures where I have a mullet and pegged pants: just ’cause you thought it was cool once doesn’t mean it was ever cool.

But I wrote, at least. I got used to the sound of my writing voice, and I began wiring my brain to run its firings down my fingers onto the keys. Some of the stuff I wrote was good because it was honest. That was how I felt; maybe some of you felt the same way, too.

But now? Now it’s a pain in the ass. Now I’m pissed that because I had some green tea with lunch, my brain is still spinning. Now I want to curl up with the wife and sleep. Instead, I’m pondering how to take over NewsCorp, just so I can put Futurama and Firefly back on the air until I’ve drained Matt Groening and Joss Whedon of all of their precious creative fluids.

Really. Goddamn green tea…

But I still write. And I still try to be honest. And I’m glad you’re still reading.

Filed under: Spleen Venting