There’s something funny about getting hit on by strangers. It’s vaguely unnerving, but also flattering. This young guy with a t-shirt down to here came up to me in the bus terminal today, introduced himself as Nemesis (not the name his momma gave him), and tried really hard to get my number. I told him we’d leave our next meeting up to chance.

This incident has nothing to do with this post, actually. But I couldn’t sum up this roll in a few clever words, so my meeting with everyone’s (supposed) Nemesis will have to do.


Once upon a time, I went on a picnic.


I met a cowboy; we supped on bread and wine.


He lived by the railroad tracks.


I licked my lips.


We feasted again upon a sweet green bounty.


But then time sucked me into its whirlpool, and I opened my eyes to a sunny day filled with friends and the promise of harvest.


And there they were!


A band of brothers kept us light on our feet.


We saw fall for what it is.


The hot bassist made good faces.


A lovely lady graced my company.


We deigned to paint each other’s faces.


The results were quite satisfactory.


Someone made love to a barrel of apples.


I found a Caiyus in a tree.


Hallie threatened.


Hordes of pumpkins invaded.


And I awoke again to the loveliest face.

Yeah, hippies, mumblemumble.

Fall is Upon Us

It’s the time of on-and-off deluges, layers, and early-onset seasonal depression. I actually love fall, don’t get me wrong. Every sunset seems like it’ll be the last, and one really appreciates coming home to a warm room filled with friends. Jesus, someone slap me already.


And nothing says fall better than PIMPLY SQUASH.


That, and sunset picknicks on Indian rock.


Tim Kline is a veritable brew master. I love drinking his beer.


We went on the aforementioned picknick and lo and behold, there was Atreau, reading an inspirational book.


I tried to spread the smorgasbord of cheese, apple, beer, goldfish, and malted milk on my legs, but it didn’t all quite fit.


Atreau borrowed the camera and took some good pics.


This looks like somewhere up high above an Italian mountain villa to me.


The parking lot was once a tennis court; now it moonlights as a soccer field.


I got my halloween on way before halloween (the night of I studied, whoopee). The 80’s produced strange fashion sense and the undead, don’tcha know.


CZ likes to get into select spirited events.


I love figs, these figs love each other.


Sometimes heaven visits the 200’s floor bathroom, probably to read the clever and insightful graffitti (hah).


The famous are amongst us!


Gentleman Jake is an ex-boxdog intern, and my connection with him was what very likely got me the job.


Ian will probably not look kindly upon this picture, so I apologize in advance, but I like goofy faces.


Rachel is stunning in the kitchen, Emily imparts some sultry attitude, and Joe is playing couchbandit.

‘Nuff said.

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