Category Archives: Faff

Utter nonsense.

Writing Advice

It was Open Stage night down at the The Last Visible Dog, and Fuze was up.

“Ok, so, I was looking through old journals for something to read, and I stumbled across ones from when I was younger and…it was terrible. So, instead of reading any of that stuff, I’d like to read this review of them and some advice.

It’s possible that when the author achieves her mature voice her work will be interesting. But as it stands now her writing is a monument of how not to write when in your 20s. Or, perhaps, a series of examples of the kind of personal journals that should be lost and never rediscovered.

The only benefit we get from these petty maunderings is a list of things not to do if one wishes one’s writing to be readable by one’s future self. Namely:

1. Don’t date anyone. Or, if you do date anyone, don’t write about your everyday feelings. Or, if you must write about your feelings make sure to write both the first and last names of your love object as well as a description including their job, pet names, etc. Include a photo if possible, but don’t make a fucking scrapbook because that’s just sad.

2. Don’t write about yourself. You will not care about how awkward and out-of-place you saw yourself. It’s precisely the amount of awkward and out-of-place you will feel twenty years later. Just take awkward and out-of-place as a given and move the hell on.

3. Write about things you see in the world. Not the world at large. What are you, a historian? NOPE. What you see, like, out the tram window on the way to the county fair. That’ll be way less abysmal to re-read later, let me tell you.

4. Don’t write about your supposedly deep thoughts on how humans work. You’re in your 20s. You don’t know. I don’t know. We’ll never know. It’s all speculation, and it’s really not very interesting to read about.

5. If you travel, don’t write about how travel has really made you know yourself. Because it hasn’t.

6. Write about other people. But not people you’re dating. Seriously. That shit’s a total snoozefest.

7. If you cannot follow these guidelines, do not for any reason return to those journals. If you encounter them DO NOT READ THEM. Instead, gather them up, build a wee boat, and give them a Viking burial on the duck pond at the city park. That’s the only way to be sure.”


Food Issues

“Here, try this.”
“What is it?”
“I call it ‘Revenge.'”
“….It’s gazpacho.”
“So? There’s no reason those two facts need to be mutually exclusive or anything.”
“Yeah. I get it.”
“I wanted it to be a counterpoint to the chili I’m entering in the Chili Cookoff.”
“I’m actually afraid to ask, but what’s the name of your chili?”
“Chili Evil Con Carnate.”
“My fears have now been fully realized.”
“Sorry. Have some more gazpacho.”
“Best served cold.”

Units of Measurement

“I brought some half and half for our teatime.”
“How much did you bring?”
“About a squeezebearful.”
“Uh…a. that’s not a unit of measurement and b. what’s a squeezebear?”
“Well, I would say that a. I just made it into a unit of measurement and b. a squeezebear is one of those plastic bear-shaped things that honey comes in. That you squeeze.”
“I don’t really relate to that. You forget that I grew up here and I have only ever experienced honey in hand-blown jars from expensive hippies.”
“Right. I did forget. Let’s just say I brought sufficient half and half for teatime.”
“Ok. Thanks!”
“But, what you’re saying is that my new unit of measurement can’t truly catch on because too many folks lack the particular cultural understanding to make it make any sense whatsoever.”
“Uh, yeah, no. I’m unconvinced it would have made sense even in a squeezebear rich cultural environment. Sorry.”
“It’s all right. We all have our burdens. Meanwhile: teatime….”
“You’re a squeezebear.”
“No, you are.”
“No, you.”



“So, I got an email from him.”
“It’s hard to say. He writes in such a way that, if investigated, would fail the Turing test.”
“You think he’s a robot? A program? Something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Whatever it is I don’t think he’s reached The Singularity.”
“I guess you won’t be dating him. So he’s a single robot who has failed The Singularity.”
“Yup. That about covers it.”
“Not going to say anything about welcoming the robot overlords?”
“Dude. We talked about The Matrix last time. I don’t want to go over it again. This is you: ‘Why do they have a GUI? People make terrible batteries. If the green letters cascade from top to bottom does that mean the original Matrix Singularity originated in China? Why green on black? That’s some ancient IBM shit. Are the robot overlords retro hipsters? Who would want to live in a world where, even in a movie, Canoe Reeves can be thought of as The One?’ I know. I get it. The Matrix really makes you think. If you’ve never thought before.”
“I think robot dating is underrated.”
“Yeah, Canoe is obviously Jesus.”
“That’s not what I….never mind. I have to go pee.”
“Like, for real, or is that some robot thing?”

No Joy(ce)

“What about Bloomsday? Do you like Bloomsday?”
“That’s a big nope.”
“Don’t you like Joyce?”
“I am unconvinced that anyone actually likes Joyce. I tried to read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and felt like killing myself. And not in a good way.”
“There’s a good way?”
“Well, for example, like a J.M. Coetzee In the Heart of the Country way.”
“Yup, that’s a good way.”


“You know what my favorite part about housing all the homeless is?”
“I don’t know. There’s a lot to choose from. Better health outcomes?”
“Um…human rights and dignity?”
“Ok, lower costs to the taxpayer?”
“You know I don’t give a shit about that, really.”
“All right. Then what?”
“Well, I like the benefits to health and the human rights and whatnot but my favorite part about having formerly homeless people all in housing now is that we don’t have to suffer through the thing where twice a decade some person who fancies themselves as super-clever and amazing writes a letter to the editor about how we should just eat the homeless.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. You are so right. That is the best reason.”


“His head is twice life-sized.”
“But, it’s life. So doesn’t it have to be …just…life-sized?”
“No. Not with him. His head is a quantum device.”
“You think everything is a quantum device. You think Narnia is a quantum device.”
“Narnia is a quantum device.”
“Narnia is a fictional construct of a magical realm. Do you even know what ‘quantum device’ means?”
“Yeah. It means Narnia and that dude’s head.”


“You know that person who comes in here who I call Sad Clown Jesus Freak?”
“I have a serious question.”
“No you don’t.”
“No, no! I promise! This is information I actually want to know!”
“Sure it is. Go ahead.”
“Do you think she’s had an affectdectomy?”
“You just sit around here self-hilaring all day, don’t you?”
“Yeah? So? What do you do?”

Russian Literature

“Is that one of the Russian novels where there’s a madman who goes on a long rant about God?”
“I think that happens in most Russian novels.”
“So it might be easier to list the Russian novels where there isn’t a madman who goes on a long rant about God.”
“I think that’s a basic and fundamental truth, yes.”