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Month: April 2010

Pettiness Is an Art Form

Posted on April 30, 2010February 25, 2022 by KZ

Edric had some choice words to say about my previous blog entry. Little did he know that he was making the wrong choice when he decided to raise up on KZ without provocation. Edric: that was disappointing. too much hype, not enough substance. i was expecting something funnier. Kevin: i was expecting you to be…

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Nice Try, Gary

Posted on April 30, 2010October 11, 2022 by KZ

This dollar bill traveled all the way from Phoenix, Arizona to San Jose, California. Normally, I’m not the kind of person who gets excited over money tracking projects like Where’s George, but I feel a strong need to report the whereabouts of a particularly special dollar bill that I came across today. There are some…

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I Blame Momo

Posted on April 24, 2010October 11, 2022 by KZ

Writer’s block is a bitch — but you already knew that. Sometimes when I sit down to write, I end up sitting still for long stretches of time, hovering a pen over an empty page while I sort out my thoughts. More often than not, the words just never seem to come. It’s always during…

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Facking Fail

Posted on April 5, 2010October 11, 2022 by KZ

Just a while ago, a community outreach program in my resident city gathered a bunch of volunteers to paint over the graffiti in my neighborhood. The neighborhood was a better place for it, but I have to admit that I was little sad to say goodbye to the muralistic masterpiece behind my apartment building, which…

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Recent Posts

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Favorite Posts

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Somehow, irresistibly, the prime thing was: nothing mattered. Life in the end seemed a prank of such size you could only stand off at this end of the corridor to note its meaningless length and its quite unnecessary height, a mountain built to such ridiculous immensities you were dwarfed in its shadow and mocking of its pomp. So with death this near he thought numbly but purely upon a billion vanities, arrivals, departures, idiot excursions of boy, boy-man, man and old-man goat. He had gathered and stacked all manner of foibles, devices, playthings of his egotism and now, between all the silly corridors of books, the toys of his life swayed.~Ray BradburySource: Something Wicked This Way Comes
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