'gross'

Masters and Johnson

Masters and Johnson @ Erik's Parent's House from Erik Stinson on Vimeo.

twitter avatron

CAVE WIKI

hhggggggggggggaaaaaaaaaaaaa (softly)

"hhggggggggggggaaaaaaaaaaaaa (softly)"

an extra copy of the psychocandy vinyl showed up in the mail today.
it was a terrible and stupid paypal accident
but it is in better shape than my other copy
(smooth un-played black plastic, infinite death-metal-like blackness)
so i might give 'other copy'
to ex girlfriend.
seems inappropriate somehow.
but i know she wouldn't mind having one.

learned final cut yesterday. want to make some kind of VHS sensual film.
that would be really nice. if i did that.

might work on advertising projects.
making a Canadian PSA about hockey.
seems disingenuous.
yesterday, the teacher for that class asked 'Erik do you do heroine?'

i said 'no' and felt weird.

going to try to stay out of the bar tonight, unless invited.

might preorder

Kawasaki

Damn

New Book

I Am Happy That You Are Grappling With My Lifechoices
Stories By Erik Stinson

RIP Cronkite

n

Sensual Noodles

Sensual Noodles from Erik Stinson on Vimeo.

OAKLAND PHOTOS FOR MOM

By Lake Merritt

The chair 

putting together the bed

camera

this is Jackson street, where the school is located

THREE FRIENDS AND I

Three friends and I walked out of the late movie around two. The Grand Lake theatre has this secret late movie on Sunday nights that the employees and their friends go to. It’s fairly exclusive and they show mostly vintage cult films. The movie that night was The Virgin Suicides, because it was Sophia Coppola’s birthday.

The trees around Late Merritt seemed to shimmer in the glow of the gleaming “necklace” of Christmas lights. This part of town is great for walking.

We got to talking relationships and I decided it would be a good idea to walk all the way over to Jack London square. It’s not too far, but it would commit us to staying out for a few hours. Everyone agreed and we set out for Broadway. Wishing for a moment that I knew a decent after-hours place, I turned around a corner and saw the moon hanging low beneath a cloud like a swollen space vegetable.

“So wait, are you with that girl or what?”

“I don’t know man. It’s like we talk but nothing ever gets decided. I just know she’s in change. And honestly, it’s fine that way.”

“I guess that’s just how it is”

“Yeah.”

We decided to walk by Merchant’s Saloon just in case they happened to be serving. They were not. One dollar PBR on Tuesdays. My mouth watered. Approaching Jack London Square, we got into a heated argument about which Springsteen album was better: Darkness on the Edge of Town or The River. I said The River, because the content was more varied. Somebody else said Darkness, because overall the songs are a bit stronger.

We finally stopped and sat down at the end of a pier. Somebody produced a flask. We talked about all the people we had known in the last five years. We wondered which of them we would still know in ten more years.

“We might as well just wait for the sun to come up. It’s clear for once,” I said.

The sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol around six and we could see the towers of San Francisco glinting eerily.

“Time to get to work,” someone said. We all nodded and turned back toward Oakland.

DOOOOD lee marvin is the key

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sons_of_Lee_Marvin

Feel like I am supposed to be obesessed with this woman. Realized I don't care; pretty much just like her haircut.

In much the same way that I plan on drinking heavily and listening to the fleet foxes for the remainder of my days, I plan on hitting on women with bangs until I die. I predict that this will become awkward in the mid 2010s and continue to be awkward until the 2030s at which point I will no longer 'give a fuck.'

FREE DEMOS

http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=ddccb87f2583ae25d5a101cf914073b4bb4af73c028daac0

DENT MAY

XREEN SHOOXS

Dicks’s Burgers

Dicks’s Burgers

Dick’s Burgers is a place in Seattle where drunks go for food. If you show up at 1:30 am on a Sunday morning the line will be long enough that the Seattle PD finds it necessary to direct traffic and bust people smoking pot.

There is something both sensual and repulsive about most burgers. Dicks is probably one of the better examples of this contradiction. The food is cheap, fatty, and totally disgusting to sober people. Having harbored intentions to become vegetarian at various times, I find it hard to believe I have eaten at Dicks at all.

One night I was there with some friends. We had just been to a party on 15th, catching up with some scensters and trying to talk to their girlfriends. We were all excited because we saw someone from the band Of Montreal at the party. I think it was the keyboard player.

Dicks was crowed that night. The glowing florescent lamps under the façade illuminated all types of people in line for a greasy burger. Many of the people were perhaps looking confused or dizzy. The light was quite unforgiving.

I remember standing next to a buddy, goofing off, probably sexually harassing him, when there was a scream from someone in a nearby car.

For most locations, Dicks is not a restaurant or even a traditional drive-through. It’s just a big glass room that makes french-fries. Outside the room, people wait for their food. To either side of the room are parking spaces. The iconic sign glows omnipotently above. A dull orange color. Cars come and go.

The scream came from an older Acura with tinted windows. It was parked near the back of the lot, where the employers probably look smoke breaks back in the 70s.

There was a shot fired and the sound of breaking glass. Everyone started running to the opposite side of the street and down the block. The cops, who had been dozing on bikes over by some dumpsters, started screaming things into their radios and waving people away from the car. Some of them seemed to be trying to decide it if was worth just shooting a bunch of holes in the car. Probably kill some innocent person, but it might be less paperwork than what might happen if anyone got out of the car.

I ran across the street and tried to see what was happening. The cops were circling the car trying to see what was going on in side.

“My burger. Stupid bitch,” a man’s voice yelled from the car.

“Throw the gun out of the car and walk out slowly with your hands behind your heard.”

“You better get me another one bitch.”

“Get the fuck away from Tony”

A woman slowly came out of the passenger side of the car. She was wearing a black dress smeared with fast food. Apparently it was some kind of fast-food related domestic dispute. It seems improbable, but I saw it with my own eyes, at Dicks at two in the morning.

I heard later that the guy who owned the car was sentence to five years for assault. I guess he used to sell coke to some people I hung out with in the club scene when I was in my first year of college. It’s strange to think that anyone would care much about such a shitty burger.

Surfin'

Oakland Vampires Decide To Move To The Mission

Vampire’s Night Out

Two vampires were getting a drink at a bar near Lake Merritt in Oakland California. Sitting at the bar, they looked relaxed and entertained.

“Hey, we drink a lot. Do you want to go do something else?” one said to the other.

“Yeah, I guess we could”

So they went over to the lake, sat on a bench, and watched people go by.

“That one has a really nice neck.”

“Quit being such a fucking cliché.”

“Fuck you. You already had blood this week.”

They sat for a while and a series of people streamed by. One of the vampires, the one who had recently tasted human blood, played the Cohen brothers game in his head, where you try to guess people’s back-stories just by looking at them. Clearly: a doctor, a drug dealer, two prostitutes, some out-of-town honors students trying to buy weed.

Then the other vampire said, “Man, I need to get some fucking blood.”

“We could go to East Oakland and kill a possum.”

The first vampire stood up. “All right man, that’s enough. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. How long have we been a team man?” He screamed this.

“Man, I don’t know. I guess since Samuel Merritt converted this place from sewage drain to park, like 1860. It’s really not that long for vampires.”

“Right, well, you know what? Fuck you. I’m out. You won’t see me at the Alley ever again. And forget about next month’s rent on our two bedroom.”

“Really? Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m going to the city.”

“Oh here we go.”

“No. You know what? I was talking to Vladimir last week. You remember the cute one at the party?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

“OK man. I don’t think you’ll make it to BART, let alone to the Mission house. You can’t cut it with big-city vampires. They’ll drink you under the table.”

“AHHHHHHH,” screamed the angry vampire. He started gliding towards Broadway.

“And here’s BART fare.” The lone seated vampire threw an expensive Italian leather shoe after his friend. The shoe dated back to Louis XIV France.

Calm, determined to get out of an unhealthy relationship, the fleeing vampire turned his back on everything he knew, left the East Bay, and set up shop with some particularly superficial vampires who lived above a doughnut shop at 29th and Mission.

This what I thought would happen if I tweeted the word 'Bondage." CONFIRMED.

lordy

Ad Copy

LIFESTYLE

Lifestyle Choices from Erik Stinson on Vimeo.

WTF world

What I Have Learned After Living In Oakland California For One Week

What I Have Learned After Living In Oakland California For One Week

1. Lots of ‘Diversity’ means cheap smokes.
2. Easy access to good food. Farmer’s markets are popular with chill Chinese families.
3. Rims really do makes cars look better and are totally ‘worth it.’
4. Emeryville has an Ikea for white people (not sure where they live?).
5. Nobody from the burbs walks around Oakland at night. Except for me and Greenday.
6. BART is mostly used by rich people and students.
7. The Mission in SF has good bars. Even on weekdays. Especially on weekdays. Oakland’s bars are like a Denny’s in a really hip union town. With strippers. Not really.
8. Everyone rides bikes. Everyone wants to talk about it.
9. Living one block from a public library is a good idea.
10. Impossible to see fireworks from anywhere I am rich enough/adventurous enough to go to. Ended up on rooftop with an obscured view of the Jack London display. Also: thought about doing whippets but it seemed ‘awkwardy.’ “Hey dudes, ya know what would make this night really special? Little balloons full of laughing gas to celebrate the birthing of American anti-tax sentiment.” Probably not chill.

SHORT STORY AND PIX OF MY NEW APPARTMENT

"Seattle Class Story"

Richie went to a private school outside of Seattle but he was not rich. In fact, on many occasions Richie’s mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, explained sadly, “we just can’t keep up with the other families at your school. You’ll just have to do your best to fit in.”

That was OK with Richie for a long time. He did many things to ‘fit in’ at school. Some of these things he came to regret. To this say, Richie notices in himself a distain for hired help and people who are ‘not alcoholics.’ Eventually, during, and especially after college, Richie became comfortable with his awkward subject position. His mother’s voice echoed in his head for years “we are upper middle class” and yet Richie knew that he had been given access to the most privileged places and opportunities. At some point Richie realized that he was more comfortable hanging out with people who were ‘fucking loaded’ than people who were actually ‘middle class.’ For a while this made Richie uncomfortable, yet this too passed.

By the time Richie has spent a year or so in college, doing the same ridiculous, dangerous, and exciting things as every other university undergraduate, he realized that he had managed to fit in. ‘Holly shit’ he thought, ‘I actually fit in.’ At the same time, he remembered a time when things had been much more difficult.

Once, at a party his sophomore year of high school Richie was placed in an awkward position. His friend Jerry had gotten very drunk, tried to sleep with a girl in the class named Melanie, and ended up puking his guts out all over the inside of a 2009 Mercedes SUV. There were little chucks of tuna fish coming out of the air vents for weeks. When the heated seats were turned on, you could smell a faint odor of very expensive cheese, which, of course, was not cheese at all.

Jerry had a desperate, world-bending crush on Melanie. Probably, they were both virgins. Having sex in private school was much like being the first to climb a very steep mountain: best be fit and very rich. Both teens were very rich but they lacked certain social skills that allow typical adults to have sex without totally ruining themselves from the inside out.

On his second Bud Lite, Jerry asked Melanie to dance. The song “Love In This Club” has just started playing from the home stereo of Melanie’s parents, who were away on business. Jerry’s breath smelled of cheap bear and fish tacos. Melanie said yes.

Unlike other girls her age at the private school, Melanie was not a virgin; she had been dating a 20-year old ‘big-time drug dealer’ who went to Bellevue Community College. She remembers him: “he was pretty stupid, I wonder what happened to him. He did have a big penis though. But regardless, not one of my better choices.” In addition to not being a virgin, Melanie was also not stupid, so she did not want to have sex with Jerry.

Jerry was a twitchy, impulsive boy. Like Richie, he was awkward and quiet. Unlike Richie, Jerry possessed a strange, sophisticated pride that sometimes passed for confidence.

“Do you want to fuck in the car?” he asked Melanie.

“No.” She said. Though, smiling and passing him her mixed drink of vodka and Gatorade, she was ‘secretly flattered.’

It was about this time that Richie noticed his friend Jerry was in over his head. He know Jerry would not be able to fuck Melanie, either physically or ‘socially.’ Jerry was not having a good idea and he would probably puke soonish.

Self-consciously, Richie stood in the corner of the large kitchen and tried to feel normal. While he leaned against a Thermador gas range that cost more than both his parent’s cars, he felt really lost, uncomfortable, and helpless to help his friend. This was one of Richie’s first ‘drinking parties.’ He thought ‘I have not yet mastered ‘drinking parties.’’ The voice in his head was detached and seemed to not care that he needed to make non-sarcastic conversation with his classmates.

Suddenly, Richie noticed Jerry making a B-line to the garage, dragging Melanie, who appeared amused and a little excited to know what Jerry might attempt to do with her there. Melanie enjoyed watching boys make mistakes at parties. She was rarely profoundly offended.

Jerry opened the door to the garage and leaned into a good stride for the nearest car. It was large and expensive and it happened to be unlocked. Breaking away from Melanie he suddenly seemed content to ‘go it alone’ as we all must do sometimes in life.

“No!” said Richie in a quiet, selfish voice. He was suddenly aware of how non-drunk he felt.

Alone in the driver’s seat, Jerry began to vomit violently. For a moment everyone was still except for Jerry shaking and loosing his dinner. It almost looked like he was dancing.

“We need to help him,” said Melanie. They pulled Jerry out of the destroyed car and into a bathroom. Grateful for something to do, Richie followed Melanie’s directions down a long, gilded hallway. Jerry moaned melodically.

They got him to kiss the toilette and watched him shake for a few minutes. They talked about the new Radiohead album, which Richie thought might become ‘a classic’ and Melanie seemed certain it was only ‘very sexy.’ This seemed interesting.

They left Jerry and had a cigarette on the back porch. It was about ten thirty. The sky was yellow and dark at the edges. In the light of the hot tub, the two seemed very good together. Almost normal.

Richied looked at Melanie for what felt like ‘the first time ever.’ She was gorgeous, with strait dark hair, long pastel-colored limbs, and small intense eyes.

“Do you want to fuck me?” asked Melanie. “I’m kind of up for it if your parent’s aren’t coming for a while.”

“Why? Why do you want to fuck me?” asked her, confused, enchanted.

“Yes or no? It doesn’t need to be that complicated.”

Richie felt the warm glow of American wealth penetrate his body as he sunk deeper into the hot tub. He realized ‘they’ would have called it a ‘sauna.’ Too late. It didn’t matter now; Richie was on his way. He would soon become ‘upper class’ at least to the eyes of most people who cared to notice.

New Ideas Made Old

Portaits 2009

<-- ADDISON

<-- BOBBY

<-- ERIK