I gotta post this shit to Facebook.… Read More That fucking Facebook feeling
Here’s a 1988 documentary on Chicago-legend Wesley Willis. He drew ink-pen drawings of Chicago skylines and draped them in color. Later, he became a successful rock-and-roll musician, but before that he loved draping his drawings in color. Un-fun fact: Wesley had chronic schizophrenia, which haunted him since the day his mother’s boyfriend put a gun… Read More A 1988 Wesley Willis documentary: Artist of the Streets
When dad and I walk together, he’ll stop. “I need to rest for a second,” he says, leaning against a pole or a wall, perhaps taking a longer pause into a chair. He’s always done this, at least as long as I’ve known him. When I was a kid, I’d be so annoyed by his… Read More My dad taught me to never quit
Author Susan Orlean wrote in an essay in Telling True Stories that there are a few questions all writers should ask themselves. The first – and as I see it most important – is “Why did you want to be a writer?” I’ve been thinking about this question a lot over the past few years,… Read More Why Do I Want to be a Writer?
Here’s a piece I wrote that was rejected by humor website McSweeney’s, but almost immediately accepted by the editors of HalConick.blog. Dear Back Hair – From the moment I saw you, I’ve plotted to reclaim my land, but you’ve proven to be a cunning adversary with vast ranks. During our first battle, I was an… Read More An Open Letter to My Back Hair
When my mom was sick with lung cancer, I realized there was a lot I didn’t control in life. I was a child – 9 years old – and I had been taught that I had control. Praying will help good things happen, so will working hard, so will discipline, so will being a good… Read More Steppenwolf’s You Got Older: Our Great Lack of Control
Let Seder’s firing and un-firing be a lesson: Free speech is currently controlled by corporate interests, but it doesn’t have to be. … Read More Sam Seder and the Corporate Control of Speech on Social Media
It’s Friday night I’m alone as I write. There are a lot of lonely nights as a writer, nights where I hole myself up and let my mind move through my fingers. But I’m not alone in my forlorn feelings: We’re all human, all of one mind, all alone in our own ways. To appease… Read More We’re All Alone, So Why Do We Feel So Alone?
“We’re getting pretty old, aren’t we?” When I was 25, a woman I was dating said this to me. It was the first time I had ever considered growing old, outside of abstract thoughts and stoned existential crises. I found it to be a strange comment. Old? I still barely knew my drinking limits –… Read More Feeling Old Before We’re Old
I’m not a boring asshole, but you might think I’m one if you read my writing. Look at that sentence. “I’m” is used twice, the same overused structure is recycled once again, and the word “asshole” is used to congratulate myself for being a boring asshole. It’s a dick sentence and meta. I hate meta.… Read More What the hell is a writing voice, anyway?