I'm a perpetual irony engine. I'm constantly reminded that I could be doing something important with my life, while also knowing everything is universally meaningless.
I feel most at home at the checkout line in a grocery store. There's something perfectly comedic about watching teenagers cope with the impatience and self-importance of suburban white women.
Right now I'm also focusing on being a pretentious shitbag and writing a stupid book that will never get published. Ask me about it. To supplement this pipe dream, I work for a Hy-Vee distributor. It's mostly soul-crushing, but I tend to revel in misery, so it works for me.
Making people laugh (as an autonomous reaction to rapid introspection)
My inability to maintain eye contact
And once a month, the Kim Jong Il shirt I'm wearing. It was a gift.
Top 5 Books:
5. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
4. Ubik by Philip K. Dick
3. Light in August by William Faulkner
2. Falconer by John Cheever
1. An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
Currently reading: Stupid comic books.
Top 5 Movies:
3. Tokyo Story
2. The Passion of Joan of Arc
1. In the Mood for Love
Most recently viewed: Season of the Witch (I'm working my way through 'How Did This Get Made')
Top 5 Musicians:
5. Stevie Wonder
4. Bill Withers
3. Van Morrison
2. Otis Redding
1. John Darnielle/The Mountain Goats
Currently digging: Prurient
Top 5 Podcasts:
5. Stuff You Should Know
3. Uhh Yeah Dude
2. My Brother, My Brother, and Me
1. You Made it Weird
Binging: How Did This Get Made
Top 5 Standup Comedians:
5. Jen Kirkman
4. Pete Holmes
3. T.J. Miller
2. John Mulaney
1. Hannibal Burress
Currently laughing at: Paul F. Tompkins
A lot of people see that as an invitation to take more chances, y'know? Like, it's better to try and fail, loved and lost, blah blah... But everyone analyzes it from the perspective of knowing that you missed a chance. Like, "Oh man, I totally should have talked to that boy/girl when we made eye-contact at the orgy. My life would be totally different." But I think the quote is saying, "We only regret the decisions we didn't make, but we should be regretting the decisions we didn't know we could."
What about the person who didn't make eye-contact with you at the orgy? What about every possible permutation of every possible interaction. What about the mathematically insignificant slice of infinity we inhabit? What about the infinitely significant trajectories our futures hold?
How do we rectify our desire in the face of perceived fate? Or fucking universal perfection for that matter? Why are WE, these fallible emotionally flawed shells, in charge of crafting utopia?
I swear I'm fun at parties.
Oh, and one time I drank gin from a plastic bag. That was a good night.