I wonder if watching “Ken Park” the day before yesterday ultimately means I’m the first person to ever watch porn in that conference room at work.

Dear consequences, you were supposed to be my follow-up story, but when you dropped everything to go put a small device to your head and stagger your heels on our Kathy Ireland design series floor, I shut you out. So rake the muck that you shit in your totally enrapturing conversation out there. Now there’s a seagull for you.

I would like to go see TV on the Radio next month. I have no idea what a show feels like anymore. Though it’s hard to cotton to the notion of driving anywhere on my day off, let alone the three or four hours it takes to get to H-town, these guys make music as beautiful as the final days of the world. And to me, that’s worth driving to hear.

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