The Latest Chapter:
The Biomythograpy, Misadventures and Other Sh*t of San Francisco’s Literary Outsider Eiríkur.
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Copyright © 2004-2005 All Rights Reserved, Word.
While walking down Noe Street towards Duboce Park at 10:30 PM. Guy 1: "You need a therapist." Guy 2: "I'll write my own personal philosphy on acceptance, thank-you-very-much." Guy 1: "Bitch." Guy 2: "Bitch." Dog: "Bitches."
posted by Eiríkur @ 1/23/2005 11:10:00 PM
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When I was six I remember sitting in the carbon-monoxide seats of my parent’s late ’70s powder blue station wagon. I would lip-sync to Crystal Gayle’s “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue” looking over at the drivers of other cars. I was convinced they would see me and think that I was Crystal, broadcasting directly to their AM dial. Recently I realized I was just high on fumes.
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