Bird Rave

Tina asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday a while ago and I said I wanted a bird-themed rave. I made a set comprised entirely of songs called “Bird” or “Birds” or songs that mentioned birds or included bird sounds. I also made pineapple, basil & lemon cocktails and “spiritual pizza.”

There was a poetry night the same night/place with corresponding performance (devil make up, ritualistic shots) and a painting to go with each poem in the series “Eat the Devil.”

Bird-Rave-1 copy

Cool Connor made me an excellent track entitled “Bird Man”, and both River and Bea got me artisanal vegan cheeses! A scent I associate with this time of year is star-gazer lillies, which Bea combined into a stunning bouquet.  Standing around the fire Benji asked: “ARE YOU READY?” and jumped around yelling “BIN BIN NIB NIB!” until handing me a bag of tabs.

My cool and smart friends are deluxe-kind to me and can really throw down on the dance floor.

Bird Rave

By 3 much of the party had dissipated and we had an iphone poetry reading. The task of cleaning and gathering my possessions was daunting, as was the prospect of driving home to share my small futon with Jessie. Instead, Jessie, Angelo and I shared Angelo’s slightly larger futon and single pillow.

In the morning we got vegan brunch before going to the beach. Ha ha, just kidding! We went to work!

John is plauged by bluegrass bands at coffee shops on Sunday mornings, but set out to write at a coffee shop nonetheless.

Hundy Pear

Benji’s mod party was a great success in Warhol-style tinfoil and dance moves.

Bridget and the Worms played their hit record collection and the Sex Headaches did a set. There was a rocker party next door.

As the party dissolved into lying on the floor Kristen, John, and I dissolved into hysterical laughter about “Our Haunted Fruit Stand” with its ruby-eyed jaw-clacking skull and $100 pear in a glass case.

Mod party

Mod Party

Mod Party

Angel Pie

I named Angel Pie when I was 3 and we have been dear friends ever since.  Angel Pie won every battle with a coyote (such as the time she stared one down through the glass door, or the time she was in a coyote’s mouth and escaped).

When I was a little kid, whenever we drove someplace, Angel Pie would follow the car down the street and meow for us to come back. Growing up, I worried about Angel Pie and our other beloved cat Hobbs being hit by a car. When I thought in their direction they would come and find me. Angel Pie and I would have sleepovers beneath covers, which she was always fascinated with. Some years ago, when we got a modern couch and there was no arm to sit on, Angel pie leaped and awkwardly sat on Will’s shoulder.

Angel Pie outlived several other friends and last Thanksgiving, in the cadence of a little kid from a 30’s movie I said: “Mama, Angel Pie is immortal right?” She was around 22 when she died.

For the last few days of her life, Angel Pie followed my mom and me around the house, lying down wherever we were. There’s a sublime sort of communication kitties can have with people, Angel Pie had that with us.



February was hard, as always.

My mom had a nervous breakdown. She and Dion then talked about philosophy and sang along with Johnny Cash while I made 64 kimchi/shiitake dumplings in my usual Saturday sleep-deprived state.

I awoke some nights to loud crashes and Dion sobbing. Eventually he became immobilized by depression so Noah got in touch with his parents and took him to the emergency room.

I worked with a pointy head toward a deadline, editing for 18 hours straight, going to White Sands twice, and then missed the deadline by 16 minutes, because I am the type of idiot who does cannot read the words “eastern standard time.”

Angel Pie went from killing mice to near-death. Then she died.

Journal Journal

I have kept a consistent diary since I was 16. In the morning sun and my dad’s dining room Hoku showed me a list of events in a day. I liked how boring yet personal it was. I liked the idea of a log. I have kept a diary in list-form ever since. A calming and obsessive habit. The last five to seven years are on Google Drive.

It doesn’t so much matter to keep the journals, though I would have liked to. Reading back on my first logs before our family laptop was stolen, I noticed life changes corresponding to dreams. When I don’t write a journal I feel confused. I feel disorganized in myself.

Months have elapsed without my writing (outside of my job as a writer). In some cases my blog replaces my journal, but I’m still driven to make lists of my personal mundane. I am ready to be boring again.


Screen Shot 2015-01-10 at 7.11.52 PM

Kristen was late to meet me for beer and Corvas was late to meet my programmer friend for beer so me and my programmer friend and his chemist friend sat and talked about projects. Programmer friend doesn’t have a phone or know who Corvas is, so I texted Corvas. I was downgraded to Proxy level 7 when I didn’t respond to Corvas’ follow-up text quickly. Then we all drank beer and talked about projects.

Kristen and I looked through her Tinder. It was so boring. We decided to me a tinder but it wouldn’t work on my phone (because you need a facebook and a gender to make one?) I tried to download it via ipad but instead chose “Air Flappy Fish-Brave Swim” You tap the screen to make the fish swim. I reviewed the app after playing it for a while calling it a”Great dating app.”

Here is the tinder blurb Kristen and I collaborated on:

This guy is the limit :)

Where to start? I’m a nice guy on an endless search for a good microBrew. I have an epic bacon sweater that I wear for my guitar concerts. I love spending time at the gym and being 6’2″ with my dog whiskey. Really, I’m just looking for a pretty gal to gently antagonize. I feel like women owe me something.

Go Lobos

Old Dreams

1: I was calmly explaining the benefits of veganism as the cruise ship burned around me.

2: A kind of mangy mountain lion that was about 6 feet tall on 4 legs wanted to come into the house. It was cute and dangerous and needed a bath.

3: I was hugging Hoku goodbye. I joked that he shouldn’t die and we both laughed.

4: Two butterflies, one solid purple and the other solid green but both glowing and slightly transparent – as though from a spirit realm – were hovering in front of me. I knew they represented permanent love through impermanent form because it was my dream.

5: There were transparent cubes with different images going in many directions, and you could see deep into the layers. I specifically remember some dolphins and space on one. They were little universes.

6: I asked everyone if they remembered a dream I had had when I was sixteen, about the guru in a cave who told me about fire dog yoga. In that dream we each got to ask the guru a question and I asked him how he felt. He said he had to poop. In my dream from this afternoon I was a pop star and was flipping around much like the guru in a cave had.

7: Buildings were exploding all around me as part of a new advertising scheme.

8: Dad was asking me and Noah to kill a donkey in a video game for dinner. Mom was asking me what I wanted to do and I started yelling that I didn’t like any of the options.

9: I evaded security guards near a towering wall but they caught up with me, firing a gun and shattering my glasses. They threw a knife through my right foot as I jumped off a cliff and onto an expansive lawn. When I arrived at the picnic I noticed my foot was gushing blood and I knew if we played spin the bottle no one would want to kiss me.

10: I was told I had to kill the thing I loved most so I was taking my brother somewhere to get rid of him. I thought angrily that this didn’t have to happen, and pulled into a parking lot to devise another plan. Some acquaintances were in the lot and one of them shot me in the throat. I fell backward with the momentum, realizing that I would die shortly. Then I decided that was a bad idea and turned my body into a wave of rubber, rising from the ground and saying: “I am Em Wingren and I’m great.”

Internal Pocket

I was Johnny Cash and I had two sons that looked just like me and their mom combined. Later, I was having spghetti dinner at the restaurant and saw their mother through a window. I said we had to leave and my children mentioned their mother discouraged wasting food – said it was bad for the planet. I agreed and did not say anything about veganism.

The Spanish restaurant had this special green sauce that tasted deep, herby, and salty. I saw the guy from the party. Buff arms, tribal tattoos, and the same demeanor as the un-sober guy from Whole Foods. We hugged tightly on an office chair. It was a sweet embrace and I wanted him to leave.

In this open room I discovered my white button down had an internal pocket. This would be good for carrying my passport in summer, without a jacket. I filled the pocket with too many things.