I really want to publish Aaron's full lenghth book called "I Forgot What I Wanted"

try www.aaronshunga.com

'SORRY I LIKE TO PARTY' Trailer 2

erikstinson.blogspot.com - the world's least-chill ad blog

SINGLE AND LOVING IT #3

MY NEW WEB COMIC IS CALLED 'SINGLE AND LOVING IT'

more comix soon

From the film Humbolt County

"Are you cooking?"

"I can always cook it more. But I can't always cook it less. Especially not right now."

"We are so high."

"If you don't like these noodels it's either because I'm terrible cook or because..............

Erik's Dream Date

remember Bobby's Dream Date?

"It'd be with this girl, but only if she were intelligent and as talkative as I'm not. We would first go out to an indoor paintball arena dinner at a dank ass seafood restaurant. I'd get a Maine lobster, and she'd get a salad. We would discuss and agree on Politics, Philosophy, the meaning of life, and how much muscle is most attractive on a guy. Then, we would drive to a chill bar with only a few people. We'd have a nice conversation while I drink 7 2 shots of JD. She'd have a fuzzy navel. We'd take a taxi back to my place. She wouldn't be able to keep her hands off me. As we got into the elevator, she'd push me against the wall and start making out with me. I'd reciprocate immediately. We'd smoke a bowl, have some chill sex, then relax for about 10 mins. Then I'd say "I WAS USING ONLY TWO PERCENT OF MY POWER LEVEL!". Her eyes would widen, and we'd get it on again, but this time I'd use all of my power. After that, I'd immediately whip out a massive splunt and we'd smoke it and cuddle at the same time. We'd then fall asleep in each others arms watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theaters."

Erik's Dream Date

It'd be with this woman, but only if she were kind of chill and boring like me. We would first get some food (any kind) and then go out to a music performance of some type in West Oakland. At differ I would order something vegan just in case she is. She would order something large and calorie laden, which I would ultimately be encouraged to finish. We would not talk very much. Maybe about food or books. Then we would bike to the show and stand silently drinking from beer bottles. At some point one of us would say "should we make out or something?" to which the other would answer "yeah, definitely." Then we could bike somewhere else and either have sex or just go to sleep depending on how tired/wasted we are. She would ask to use the internet and I would say "OK," and then I would watch her, out of the corner of my eye, her face a glowing blue shroud of possible-existence.

how oakland are u?

do u no longer care as much about organic foods?
do u drink half pints of ancient age often?
do u think 'my bike lock is something i can rely on more than most things'
do u give yourself tattoos while watching grindcore videos?
do u wonder 'what does love mean when there's no money and no time?'
do u say 'i love this bar very much' on tuesday mornings

SORRY I LIKE TO PARTY movie preview

fuck

accidentally spits on his face a little

"hey i like your glasses," she says.

"thanks," he smiles stupidly. loud music from the 90s is playing.

"where did you get them?"

"thrift store."

"can you take me there?"

"i don't think so," he yells into her ear, uncertainly.

"i'll give you a discount at my store."

"where do you work?"

"american apparel."

"oh, me too, i guess."

"wait, really? that's so funny. i guess i can't give you a discount."

"not really. what could you give me instead?" he asks, realizing how sexual it sounds.

she looks at him stupidly. she is short with brown skin and large eyes. he think about kissing her.

"have you ever stolen from the company?" she asks. "it's really easy and all the clothes are worth like 99 cents." and she accidentally spits on his face a little.

"not yet. i guess i might someday, maybe. have you?"

"no." she pauses uncertainly. "did you know you can get anything you want for free if you send nude pictures of yourself to dove?"

"jesus. seems cool. i think he likes girls better than boys."

she looks at him with more certainty. they kiss.

"where do you live?" she asks.

"berkeley."

"how are you getting home?"

"not sure."

"you should just pick up some girl in the city and take bart back at 4. it's easy."

"you mean to save 60 cents?" he seems confused.

he kisses her.

he asks her to dance and they try to go to the center of a crowd of people dancing.

at one point she says, "company meeting" in his ear.

as they dance, they make out. at some point, she wraps one leg around him and he picks her up completely. he remembers that she is wearing a certain style of pants. he tries to remember the style number.

they go away from the center of dancing because people are getting too rowdy during a weezer song.

"wait, so where do you live?" he asks.

"a few blocks from here."

"wanna go?"

"i have a boyfriend."

"cool."

"but it's an open relationship, so maybe? he's right over there."

"cool."

he looks at her again. they are close together. he kisses her. then he backs away from her. he looks into her eyes and waves, before immersing himself in a sea of dancing people born in the 80s.

the northern air cooler / wolves / pale bedsheets

'the northern air cooler'

she spent two weeks with her sunglasses on, in late september,
coming home from graduate school. her parents seemed smaller
than she remembered, the northern air cooler.

in the islands, the sun was much lower than in california.
the three of them drank moderately: father, mother, daughter,
sailing through cold blue straits and wicked fjords.

the bars of los angeles waited for her return
like earnest high school boyfriends. she didn't think of them much.

instead she slept alone, against an AM radio's gentle waves,
coming up the west coast, piped into the boat
by an antennae connected to the mast.

her dreams were too full of cocaine taquerias and scary weekend discos.
everyone aged at alarming rates. she tried to stop time with her eyelids.

late at night, she smoked on the bow of the boat at anchor. spacing out,
not even looking at the stars.


'wolves'

wolves of europe return one cold night in winter.
they land on a rooftop in hamburg germany.

with a winking, the helicopter returns to 'stealth mode'
and they descend the elevator shaft,
bringing medieval europe to the damp streets,
glistening with reflected light.

they bare their teeth and prepare for a feast
of modern European sensibility.
'it has been too long,' they snarl.


'pale bedsheets'

across pale bedsheets of my old room in seattle
i can see the backyard still looking aimlessly green.
the window is open and the sound of fall comes in.
dry-sounding snaps and rubbing noises seem realistic
and probably come from the trees and plants.
gray clouds deepen my sense of seasonal foreboding and
remembered suburban depression.

in this room, the dark wood panels
dull the ache of california and i consider what
it might be like to someday to return to this 'wasteland'
of wet shadows and distant feelings.
probably could happen.

dope show