1. I have less than 10 copies of my new poetry zine left, and I’m going to throw in my old mini-zine of poems that I made last year with ‘em. Buy it here.


  2. Rod Harper just sent me this. I walked across it almost a year ago and it was scary as shit. But this is fucked!


  3. Tristan and Avalon sleeping in the same sleeping bag to stay warm. Baton Rouge, LA. 


  4. I stand here with nothing.


  5. tannerballengee:

    New poetry zine. Contains “love poems.” Only made 20. Available here.

    Only 10 left.



    This is the first story in my short-story zine, available here. And if it was you, Mom, please don’t say anything. Don’t make it weird. 

    I’ve only been caught jerking off once.

    When I was 13 I got into this routine during the summer months where I would stay up till 5 a.m. every night and sleep till 5 p.m. the next day. Then I would skate at least five miles across town to the skatepark where I would meet my friends; we’d skate or do whatever for several hours until it was past my curfew and I’d go home and hopefully not hear my mom having sex with her boyfriend and play Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 4 till about 3 a.m., before sneaking up stairs to the computer room for a little “me time”.

    It was past 4 in the morning this time. I was watching some videos (with no volume) and got completely naked on the wooden chair in front of the computer desk—I was going all out. I had a boner and was doing my thing, watching something mediocre, just starting to get into it. Not a worry in the world. Why would I? It was 4 a.m.—the perfect time—no one is still up, and no one is awaking yet. So, needless to say, I was pretty shocked with I heard the door directly behind me swing open violently.

    I froze, but my hands knew what to do—they’d been preparing for moments like this since day one. I minimized the screen showing a girl with multiple penises in her mouth and opened up a music player swiftly.

    I might’ve kept the porn from out of sight but there was no way for me to disguise the fact that I was completely naked with a raging hard-on that I was just touching before the door opened. My adrenaline shot through my veins and my heart pumped furiously. My chest burned.

    But I couldn’t move; I couldn’t turn around. The door was open and someone was staring at my naked back and not saying a word. I had been caught. The jig was up. It was all over now.

    Then another surprise: the creaking sound of the door being slowly closed. I turned around—whoever had opened the door had then exited as well, leaving their identity forever anonymous.

    Who could it have been? My step-sister? Age 11, blonde, probably never seen a penis before in her life. My brother? Autistic, nonverbal, probably wouldn’t understand what he saw anyway. My mom? Recently divorced, hates her son, etc. Whoever it was, why didn’t he/she say anything? Every possibility started running through my head. What if the door was never opened at all, and I had just imagined it?

    What’s worse: getting caught masturbating, or being 23 years old and living ten years plus the whole rest of your life without ever knowing who it was that caught you?


  7. "It’s too cold to sleep tonight
    We could freeze to death I warn
    It’s so hard to want to fight
    When you wish you were never born”



  9. Walking home from the bar, Mike broke a yield sign and began using it as a battle axe. 


  10. Gage stage. Probably one of my favorite spots in Topeka. We’d come here to film stuff but also to just fuck around and have fun. I miss my Kansas homies/being a kid. 


  11. "As long as I have a door to open, my door will always be open…"

    That’s a line from a poem in my new zine



  13. I had something written here about the first time we met. I let her read it the other night and she said it made her want to cry. So I have removed it. 




  15. tannerballengee:

    Conner being a bad kid. I forgot where this was taken.

    It was taken in Memphis. I just remembered.