evan horn, beloved by wolves

About Me

My poor mother, champion of the stage and of the english language, tried four times to have a loving daughter, with whom she could discuss the mysterious and myriad secrets of the animal: woman. She has four ill-adjusted sons who live within 250 miles of her and consequently know nothing about women. My father shaves his face every morning, just before stepping into a navy or black, department store suit, of which he has too many to count. He then walks approximately twenty-five paces southeast, into his garage-converted office, where he engages in a sort of enigmatic business that has forever remained unexplained and otherwise baffling to everyone in the family, including my father. I am second-born, which automatically qualifies me for black-sheep status. Eccentric, wayward, keeper of many secrets, I am my fathers prodigal son, for whom he will one day kill the fatted calf. In public, he casually claims that he loves his boys equally, but my news-mongering mother tells me that I was always his favorite. True, at base this is a trivial and clumsy bit of information, but precisely the sort of minutia that shallow people like me hang our hats on. Most of my childhood was spent alone with my brothers, jumping on a trampoline, which explains why we all experience moments of inexplicable joy and periods of prozac-laden, emotional bankruptcy. Of late, I have uncovered a new appreciation for neighborhoods and pedestrian life - a discovery that places me in the saddle of my bicycle for several hours each day. My diet consists mostly of black beans, fresh basil and coconut milk. People say that I dance like Bill Cosby, but the Three Amigos were also big influences. I work, sleep and throw impromptu dance parties in a historic building downtown that is zoned for commercial use and suffers many leaks in stormy weather. My friends and I are going somewhere pretty - if you are nice, you may come along...This profile was edited with Thomas' myspace editor™ V2.5

My Interests

making children laugh.
making old men glad.
dharma bums.
wood glue.
pedestrian anonymity.
designing currency.
orchards.
uniform sentiments.
immediate typewriter satisfaction.
collage understandings.
the philosophy of a kite.
tikki masala.
beard constitutions.
zen and the art of changing the subject.
chasing bad weather.
the kerouac within.
old book smell.
circular experiences.
bicycle governments.
organized women.
innocence for breakfast.
just in case.
sharing the same space.
unconventional forms.
le fin du monde.
options.
coney island.
disappearing.
using both hands.
packaging/containers.
uncomfortable elevator silence.
eye contact.
picking good avocados.
bauhaus.
knowing but not saying.
remembering when.
burying it when it dies
pouring it over rice.
reason.
stick figures.
erosion.
letter writing.
pretending the mystery exists.
make-believe punctuation.

I'd like to meet:

all who are infinite.

Music:

syd barrett
the kinks
cody ross
leonard cohen
the unicorns
yann tiersen
kaada
the magnetic fields
davendra banhart
vashti bunyan
the books
sufjan stevens
michael bryant
deerhoof
four tet
the microphones
tunng
peter bjorn and juan
f.s.blumm
of montreal
the make-up
the notwist
stereo total
belle and sebastian
arvo part
mum
joanne newsom
animal collective
edith piaf
beach houe
riuichi sakamoto
stan getz
serge gainsbourg
charlie mingus
charlie parker
dizzy gillespie
joao gilberto
chet baker
miles davis

Movies:

popcorn.

Television:

dope.

Books:

borrow an axe from a neighbor
and go into the woods for awhile.
dont stop reading.

Heroes:

friends and family. the good voices. trees.

My Blog

dot net people. not com, net.

ok, so it's still a little-rough and doesn't quite have all of its functionality yet, but the website launched on Friday, Feb 3, and im pretty pleased. pretty please. www.evanhorn.net...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Sun, 05 Feb 2006 01:09:00 PST

keyboard and mouse trap

Who can blog everyday? Honestly. Who has the energy? Who are these people that live such textured and technicolored lives, that they can write about it everyday and make it in...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Sat, 28 Jan 2006 10:51:00 PST

a dentist for president

Another trip to the dentist today and a quick six-hundred quid later, I find myself with a growing constituency of porcelain in my bi-partisan mouth. Growing, growing and posing a threat, this po...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Fri, 27 Jan 2006 09:50:00 PST

sadness: sexy, but only from a distance.

Instead of streaming down the face, sometimes tears roll backwards into the brain, where they gather like a stagnant pond of cerebral sadness. And though outwardly, the person appears uneffe...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Sun, 15 Jan 2006 08:35:00 PST

riffraff

Had to be out of my place by the first of January, so naturally New Years Eve was spent photographing my unwanted ballast, and building a flyer that was designed to operate like a cave man's vers...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Fri, 13 Jan 2006 05:12:00 PST

1.0

Observation 1.0 - of late, i have been casually scheduling appointments with medical doctors, dentists, pseudo scientists and therapists in a hypnotic, almost knee-jerk fashion. ...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Thu, 12 Jan 2006 04:49:00 PST

halibut

Delicately please. Read this with a beer. With all the many users, I'm afraid myspace is loosing some teeth. It just doesn't have the same bite. What is a turn-on for some, smells like fish to others,...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Wed, 11 Jan 2006 04:49:00 PST

two growing oaks

we spoke like trees that night our words grew like oak from the ground of our mouths that fertile soil made a sound and you told me a story about the twin brothers who live by the birm they we...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Tue, 20 Sep 2005 10:04:00 PST

you thought

you thought the TV was broken like screaming you hit me with your mouth your eye was broken i turned down a road once when i was always never myself i haven't turned down a road once since i became ...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

the red kimono january

Bordeaux avenue that sleepy little street full of emotional geometry where cigarettes burn without effort and hearts pump heat into buildings born of wood i remember that staircase afternoon ...
Posted by evan horn, beloved by wolves on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST