I think I have an anchor. I feel it.

My anchor doesn't pull down, though. And it doesn't pull up. It doesn't pull to the side. Or the other side. Or the other side. Or the other side. Or the four places in between the side.

My anchor doesn't pull back in time. It doesn't pull forward in time. It doesn't hold me steady in time.

My anchor does not anchor me to any direction that is beyond those of the four dimensions.

My anchor does not anchor me to my own personality. My anchor does not anchor me to any other person.

My anchor is not attached, as far as I can tell, to anything. It does not anchor me to anything at all.

But I have it. I know it's there.

I know because even though my anchor doesn't seem to exist in any one place or time, I have seen my anchor.

I am seeing it now. I see the anchor. And, because I see it, I know it is there.

And so I know it is an anchor. And I know it is mine.

And I know I'm attached to it.

I just don't know what to do with it—with the anchor knowledge—beyond that.

***

Run DMT.

***



Tex Arcana.

***

I will be reading at Pilot Books on July 17 with Matty Byloos and Carrie Seitzinger.

keyhole

I am pleased to announce that soon Keyhole Press will release a small book of mine called The Moon Tonight Feels My Revenge. It contains three stories—only one of which was previously published—and some short pieces about one-man black metal bands.

This is exciting.

This is even more exciting: next year, Keyhole Press will be publishing Happy Rock, my collection of short stories about Upper Michigan.

Please enjoy these celebratory photos of an old pinball machine that has been turned into a booth at Shorty's.

sky

You were asking earlier how the sky was doing, right?














Everything seems normal. I'll drop you a line if there are any changes.

Mostly, though, I'm just mad at it. You maybe don't really know what that's like, right? What it's like to be mad at the sky.

Someone's gotta be, don't they?

If not me, who will be mad at the sky? President Obama, maybe? I doubt he's going to be sufficiently mad at the sky. I mean, I feel like he's the sort of person who might mostly just be, like, disappointed in the sky. He might tell you that he's really disappointed in the sky, and because of that disappointment, maybe you'll get the sky to try harder.

Someone involved in this movie might have been mad at the sky:



but I think all those people are dead and can't be mad at the sky anymore.


Maybe you think God should be mad at the sky. God can only ever really be mad at herself. That does us no good, I'm afraid. No good at all.

So I'll do it. I'll take the weight. I can take the weight. I think I'll be okay with that. I'll be the one mad at the sky.

Because, I figure, fuck it. What else am I going to do.

***

Joe

In this post, I mentioned that I was thinking of getting a Joe Kittinger tattoo.

I did it.



It's based on this photo.

Footage of this jump appears in this Boards of Canada video:



At the 6 minute mark of this video, a friend of Joe's gives him the finger:



I'd never seen that video before. Now I sort of want to get that image—a friend, no doubt filled with stunned admiration and a little love-tempered envy—a man flipping off one of the bravest men in history.

***

Still happening.

***



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