come home with me. we should get married.
navigation thingie
me and my big head. what happens if you click it?


This is recommended and relevant, relatively

this is where i live on myspace

For performance calendar, videos, & brags, visit

Join the TREMBLE 2K Street Team for site updates, preferential treatment, and invaluable girl talk (powered by NOTIFYLIST):

copyrights, usage and general site information. you can click it.

Subscribe to my RSS feed through


I was standing at the office kitchen sink this afternoon, squirting Palmolive on a plastic fork and into a microwave-safe Rubbermaid dish that contained the remnants of chickpea curry — today's lunch and last night's dinner — when I had this weird feeling overcome me. I am not a religious person, but I actually started to think about God's existence. I thought, God definitely exists and he's looking down at me right now. And he's elbowing an angel in the ribs and pointing at me, and saying, "Oh man, what a tool."

I get this way whenever I'm back at an office job for any length of time, and it's no one's fault but my own. My own perception keeps fucking with me. There really is so much in my life that's satisfying right now, or on the border of satisfying, that it feels especially frustrating when I'm experiencing these weird, undignified moments at the office sink, with my little Alfred J. Prufrock Brand® Lunchables. The smelll of dishwashing detergent, the distant sound of an Audix voicemail system, and the wipe of a sponge across the inside of a Rubbermaid dish, as seen under fluorescent lighting, creates this cumulative sensory experience that instantly sends me into an existential tailspin.

I tried to put it in perspective today, by imagining Lil Jon writing out a Post-It note at a cheap, particle board office desk. And the Post-It, which he sticks to the monitor of his brand-new Apple Powerbook (given to him for free, as part of his goody bag at the 2006 Grammys), reads, "DON'T FORGET! Drop off Pimp Cup to be Re-Dazzled."

WE FIRST MET ON 02.14.2006

it's just a line; don't worry too much
read the archives, please. does that make me gay? meet the author, more or less. this is the email link you were perhaps looking for