A short list of things I don’t understand:
1. The appeal of eggplant
2. The appeal of patchouli
3. The appeal of small, yapping dogs
4. The appeal of sandals for men, aka mandals
5. The appeal of the Upper West Side
6. The appeal of picnics
7. The appeal of farmer’s markets
WHY I’M ANGRY TODAY
The Smiths still haven’t gotten back together.
8 thoughts on “Yapping”
1. eggplant parmesan does it for me every time! Tried that?
3. not the yapping part but size wise – it is the transporting advantage.
4. Never really thought about it before – hum.
5. ditto again…
6. Damn bugs! Sounds romantic. Sounds like a good idea UNTIL you try it. I think people only try it ONCE. Then they say, “Fuck this”.
7. I’ve got your answer – they are parents with nothing better to do. I think childless people would rather stay at home, drink coffee and read the paper. But parents are on the verge of exploding – yes even at those early morninig farmers market hours. So we pack up the kiddos and venture out into the heat, crowds and basic bull shit in hopes of wearing out the children so they will take a nap. Sigh.
The blame the drummer, whomever he was.
I blame the world, Pete. The world.
Thanks, Glamour Girl. Sadly, even eggplant parm makes me gag.
I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE patchouli! A little dab behind your ears and one between your breasts and you’re good to go!
Oh and UPPER Westside would be Grand Haven or Sagatuck for sure!
John, I must say, I am dying here. I need a new book, or at least, SOME form of sellers substenance. I MUST HAVE it. Yes, it is I, the Mark Chapman of the Obama generation, and I am here to take your life, once I buy a new copy of The Catcher In the Rye (mine got ruined in a rainstorm). Yes, I know Texas and Michigan are miles apart, but I know I can do it. Okay, this has gone way too far, I must stop and admit that this sad attempt at a death threat is merely fan mail my friend. I apologize, and I thank you for your wisdom (and your book). I have read all the “standard” rock journalist-turned-Gonzo revivalists but your book hit me harder than Klosterman, Rob Sheffield, and my new Bose headphones combined (this is not a diss on either of them, by the way). Anyhow, I figured I’d drop this on you as a token of my entirely heterosexual affection. Also, I think I will order a copy of your ode to video games out of respect (kind of like spending three-month’s allowance on a Rod Stewart box set at age 10 to impress my sick grandmother because she liked “Maggie May”). Anyways, thanks for everything.
Dear John –
Wow you had to use the urban dictionary huh; that definition to me applies to Hemp oil – – seriously.
Albeit Patchouli is woodsy it in no way smells like funk or Mary Jane.
When in doubt, whip it out — the Urban Dictionary, that is. Number 8 on my list would be hemp oil. Thanks for the thought!
And Cameron, I will happily be your John Lennon, as long as you PLEASE use a water pistol. Thank you. And thank you for spending your cash on stuff I wrote. Not even my own mother did that, the harlot. (Just kidding, Mom!)
As for new stuff, I should probably post these things more often, but I do a Q+A every month for Spin magazine, which you can read here (http://www.spin.com/writers/john-sellers). And I’ll be writing a music column for a new online magazine called The Faster Times. This will launch at the end of June. I also have a new book in the works; it will hopefully be out next summer if I don’t die from heat exhaustion first. Or a bullet from a crazed stalker’s gun.
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