Surfing, snowboarding, pretending that one day i'll really learn how to skateboard, discovering new things about old friends, conversations with total strangers, wide senses of humor, cooking at home for lots of people, bubble baths, living in an igloo, spending copious amounts of time by myself, writing paper letters, courduroy, banter, never getting out of my bathrobe, passports, laughing until i nearly pee my pants, 24-hour dates, riding bicycles, bushmills on the rocks, solo road trips, cuddling, napping, shakin' it, taking a stand.Did you know I actually fucking run now? Holy. Jesus. Lord.
Life is a moustache: I want to ride it all night long.
Stuff. And also things.
Kicking and Screaming, Eric Stoltz-style. And December.
Ugh. Soap, anyone?
Dave Eggers can get fucked, right in the ear. I live for the dictionary and thesaurus. Mythology of any origin and variety. Alice Munro. Roddy Doyle. My old journals. Just finished up with The Sleeping Father, by Matthew Sharpe, which was excellent, as was The Golden Spruce.
I don't know. Send me something and I'll read it. Even crap.
The man who first put snot-wipers on snowboard gloves.