When I was 14, I remember coming home one day to find the door locked one day after hanging out at a friend’s house. Instead of introducing myself to a neighbor and staying at their place until someone got home, I kicked in a window.

Unbelievable, right?

I agree, except back then, that was my gut instinct. To me, it was about surviving, not sharing. I was used to the disorder at home, so if my dad got upset with me because I smashed a window (which he did), oh well. What I wasn’t used to was going out of my way to meet people. (more…)

Being an unknown writer, I’m supposed to hate Oprah. I’m supposed to want to set her on fire and then throw her under a snowplow. (I refuse to use the phrase “under a bus.” Can we stop with that already? It’s 2006 people. I don’t wear jam shorts. You shouldn’t use that phrase.)  

But I don’t.

So her publicity of “A Million Little Pieces” led to James Frey becoming a household name? So what? So what if he’s a hack? So what if I think I’m more deserving. So far, he caught a break. I hope I catch mine, too. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I’m certainly giving it my (more…)

A lot of you who read my blog may also follow the life of one Zachary Forrest, an Austin-based coder and writer who’s a 1/4 dick, 1/4 quarter poet, 1/4 quarter music Nazi and a 1/4 dick. Wait, that’s 1/2 dick. Whatever. That seems about right.  

Truth is, Zach is a good friend, which is somewhat surprising since I’ve never met the twat. I’ve spoken to him about J. I’ve asked him questions reserved for my closest friends. We crossed paths while I was writing for IRONPANTS and he for Spring Patch in 2004, and we’ve stayed in contact. I’m not really sure why. I don’t make a habit out of connecting with men over the Internet, but Zach’s writing was raw and gripping. And honest. And tragic. And pure. He was an easy guy to root for. So, I started rooting. (more…)

I started working out twice a day so I look dapper for my friend Selig’s wedding on May 5. I was already working out, doing cardio everyday, but since my frame is starting to resemble a stick figure with hockey sticks for legs, I thought I would start lifting weights again.

I go once during work at lunch and once after work. During work, there’s hardly anyone in the gym because people are busy eating or filling out TPS reports. After worrk, the place is packed with both enormous people and people who are really, really good looking and in ridiculously good shape. There doesn’t seem to be any in between. (more…)

1 Scottsdale Culinary Festival attended
3 hours in the sun
30 SPF lotion I wore
828 fake boobs I saw
2 plates of hot wings
1 5-mile run
0 trips to the gym
10:22 - time I rolled out of bed Sunday
10:30 - time church starts
1 dinner with the Horse Whisperer’s parents (more…)

It’s been a somber Sunday. Today I learned that my friend’s father killed himself. Jason’s father jumped in front of a train, leaving behind him, his sister and his ex-wife. Notes to all three were discovered in his pocket.

I debated whether or not writing about this was appropriate, considering that it’s such a serious topic and much of the content here is not, but I had to. Jason’s dad wasn’t a wealthy man, or a well-known-man, or distinguished in any manner. Because of this, he will be remembered by very few. He was a drunk whose disease annihilated his relationships, leaving him unemployed, unloved and alone. No one knew things had gotten this bad, but then again, with suicides, you never do. (more…)

IMG_2045Originally uploaded by sportsgoons.com.

Since I’m having dinner with the Horse Whisperer and her parents tonight, I thought now would be a good time to pick up a new shirt, one that really brings out the smallness of my pecs.

Since I’m having dinner with the Horse Whisperer and her parents tonight, I thought now would be a good time to pick up a new shirt, one that really brings out the smallness of my pecs.Actually, I’ve met the parents already. I met them on our first date. That makes sense to everyone who knows the Horse Whisperer’s dirty little secret. If you don’t, find someone that does.

This should be fun.

Dad: “So Keith, what do you do?”

Me: “I’m a writer.” (more…)

So I’ve decided what I’m going to do with the ring. As you recall, I contemplated:

1) Having the jeweler sell it on consignment and get back about 3/4 what I paid for it.

2) Selling it on eBay.

3) Taking store credit and have money set aside for the future Mrs. Keith, guaranteeing that whomever I marry gets one unbelievable ring.  

I’m opting for none of the above because I’m choosing 4), which is proposing to and marrying City Wendy. (more…)