don't point that thing at me

Brett Gallagher wrote an awesome and zany review of We're All Good I Swear Come Here Where Are You Going. When I first skimmed Gallagher's review, I thought it was impenetrably bebop, but then upon closer reading I realized he'd burrowed into the poems like a really insightful but still very idiosyncratic squatter. So this review is like what would happen if you lived inside the poems for a while, but you didn't sleep the whole time you were living there. Or the review is like you live where you normally live except you just took a small blue pill version of the book and now you're walking around like that. In the review is also a clever picture of a philosopher I'd never heard of named Kripke, which sent me on an interesting goose chase. I don't know if I enjoy Kripke's philosophy, but I like the way Gallagher used his picture. His review reminds me of a friend I had in college named Ryan, whom a lot of girls slept with, and who always said that he thought I was really attractive and if he was a girl he'd be attracted to me. Specifically, the review reminds me of one Halloween when me and Ryan went out to find girls who would sleep with both of us at once, but our bonding experience was interestingly obliterated by all the strange costumes and fire hoop stunts. Thanks to Brett Gallagher for squatting in the poems in such a lovely way.

In other news, the only male bank teller complained about his feelings. All his female co-tellers made fun of him. Then he began to play with a yo-yo. "What am I doing right now," he said. "What is this called." "What do you mean what's it called," they said. "It's called yo-yoing." "Oh," he said. "I thought that was just the name of the thing." "That's also the name of what you do with the thing," they said. "Duh."