let's go to the movies

The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind

and another

his mother called him WILD THING and Max said


and he was sent to bed without eating anything.

That night, in Max's room, a forest grew.


will you be there this year?

A krewe "is an organization that puts on a parade and or a ball for the Carnival season." The Krewe of the Fives? We're the float that doesn't move. The only ongoing, family-friendly, breakfast beer bash of Springtime Tallahassee. 5th Annual this year. A few more babies, a few more friends, a few more beads to catch. This year I can't afford to set us all up with a keg, but I'll throw hot dogs on the grill after the parade wraps up while everyone wanders in and out and downtown and back again and people nap on the couch.

If you and yours are downtown this Saturday, come on by and say howdy. You can't miss us.


the end

I found out yesterday that a guy I've known for maybe 13, 14 years killed himself this week. He and I were never that close, but he and one of my best friends were all but brothers.

Isn't it funny how that works? You've got these people who are so tightly tied to you, so much a part of your daily life. You feel like you know everything about them and they know everything about you. But, the whole time, you both have story lines going that have nothing to do with each other. We all carry little chapters of our friends, memories only shared by the two of you or more important to you both than to others. How you met. Trips you took. When you helped each other through or over some pain and trouble.

That's what we did last night, of course. As soon as we, a handful of us, found out what happened, we rallied around the deepest wounded. We huddled close to him and listened, put on hands on his shoulders when he cried. "Okay," he said, later in the evening, as the shock wore off, "I'm ready to wake up now." But he didn't, because you don't, because death fucking sucks like that.

So he's riding up today with another might-as-well-be-brother to the wake in North Carolina. Those of us left in town will worry about them, because grief makes people drive badly, but I guess they'll make it fine. They'll come back with an ending to the story of their lives with Demetri. He was 29, an artist, and a traveler, and he shot himself in the head Sunday.


big in England

Lord, the world is weird. And the punk scene is tiny. And when you look up in the grocery line to see someone you've partied with and gossiped about and swapped zines with and have just generally crossed paths with over the past ten years on the cover of the National Enquirer, it does feel a little surreal.

I didn't buy the issue, though - I've got better pictures of her at home.


dirt mall redux

You see some crazy shit when you spend the weekend selling used videos at the local flea market.

You'd be amazed at how many different ways there are to tote a small dog. You can tuck your chihuahua into a leather man-bag. You can push it around in a pet stroller, or you can just go ahead and load three pugs into a regular baby stroller. You can stuff it in a canvas carrier made to look like a really ugly purse with vented sides. You can buy a sort of harness made to go around all the important bits and leave the pup's legs and tail dangling as you carry it by the special strap at the top, as if the whole animal was a yapping diaper bag.

Or you can do as one family I saw did: carry the small dog lovingly in your arms and clip the animal's leash to your small son's britches, solving two problems in one go.