electronochuckyoung

[electronochuckyoung]

[electronochuckyoung]

local paper party

[electronochuckyoung]

she went outside  to sneak out a fart  & farted herself to the moon 

she came back in  with a tale to tell  tooting a newly lunar tune

[electronochuckyoung]

hi i’m in love with the sweetest gd goddess on the lands

[electronochuckyoung]

three year old angel: can i have a juicebox

me: what do you say

three year old angel: please or abracadabra

[electronochuckyoung]

falling in love is like being given this super strong flashlight / & the weight of it feels so right in your hand / & you turn it on & are able to see the darkest places inside yourself / for seemingly the first time / & it makes you go “oh shit i really gotta spruce up the basement of me”/ & you either do that scary-ass work / or you panic & press the off button / & throw it in the cobwebby corner / with the other ones / & i’m not sorry that this is what alive feels like / a throb not too dissimilar to the first days / after getting a tattoo / a constant reminder that you’re thinking about forever / & have very recently done something reckless about it / like kissed the ice of your coffee-cold mouth / under the smoldering tip of a lit marlboro red sun / there is a clavicle in your tangerine flowerbed / & upon its ridge is where i’d build a temple / to happily live the rest of my days at worship / or gazed upon you small & unfolded in the paper doilies of morning light / mummified in my sheet / a grandmother’s ghost floating above her old bed / like felt your heartbeats pulse in my temples / the sound of faint footsteps down the hall / cherubs rejoicing in their escape / or been reminded by the crack of your bones / of afternoons spent skipping flat rocks on a calm lake / there is simply no better love than this heaven inside me / when i get to share it with you because 1885 , Chuck Young , First motorcycle

[electronochuckyoung]

Yet the president, while proposing the most radical departure from governing and policy norms in several generations, had few specific ideas about how to turn his themes and vitriol into policy. And making suggestions to him was deeply complicated. Here, arguably, was the central issue of the Trump presidency, informing every aspect of Trumpian policy and leadership: He didn’t process information in any conventional sense. He didn’t read. He didn’t really even skim. Some believed that for all practical purposes he was no more than semi-­literate. He trusted his own expertise ­— no matter how paltry or irrelevant — more than anyone else’s. He was often confident, but he was just as often paralyzed, less a savant than a figure of sputtering and dangerous insecurities, whose instinctive response was to lash out and behave as if his gut, however confused, was in fact in some clear and forceful way telling him what to do. It was, said Walsh, “like trying to figure out what a child wants.”

Donald Trump Didn’t Want to Be President One year ago: the plan to lose, and the administration’s shocked first days. By Michael Wolff  if losing was going to be the best thing to happen to him i really hope winning becomes the worst 

[electronochuckyoung]

sometimes i think of depression as a sort of heat source inside yourself that stops the flurry of good from accumulating by melting it all into ash as it comes & one is a much more difficult pile to get your footing & stand tall on but please correct me if i’m wrong

[electronochuckyoung]

more fun book stuff

https://www.pennycandybooks.com/shop/the-day-we-lost-pet

[electronochuckyoung]

gutted to hear that you’re gone you loveable shithead

Experimental Romance by Alex Vance

[electronochuckyoung]

book out in the world stuff i love everyone you can buy it

KIRKUS REVIEW

From the opening pages, with lines like “we were piles of skin laundry blending into a world of pales and fogs,” debut author Young transports readers into a world somehow familiar and simultaneously unlike any they have ever experienced.

Two balloon people inhale and exhale each other’s essences, become bonded, and create Baby. Baby’s love brings Pet into the family, an animal made from a different kind of balloon. Tragically, Pet is deflating rapidly. Baby’s parents search desperately for a cure. In this futile process, they are pulled away from each other and from Baby until Baby’s heartbreak brings everyone back together. The language of this story is utterly surreal, but its feelings are recognizable and palpable—bright love, devastating grief, and fragile hope. Debut illustrator Sobieski renders the dreamscape visible with equally poetic illustrations. Splashy watercolors and the ample use of purple and dark green create an otherworldly environment in which the characters experience completely identifiable emotions. Gender isn’t central to the story, but it’s worth noting that Young deliberately avoids gender binaries by writing in the first person and using the third person “they” to refer to the narrator’s partner. This supremely tender book is one that readers will return to again and again, if they can bear it, finding new meaning with each reading and in each new stage of life.

Breathtakingly original. (Picture book. 4-11)

[electronochuckyoung]

oh ok

[electronochuckyoung]

if you're going to put cat food into the office microwave & then take it out with one second left at least have the decency to hit the reset button you sick fuck

[electronochuckyoung]

me talkin shit

[electronochuckyoung]

some balloon artists tried their hand at my book cover & i love them

buy the thing won’t you? https://www.pennycandybooks.com/shop/the-day-we-lost-pet

[electronochuckyoung]

so cute so cool

[electronochuckyoung]

so here's the deal buttheads, at a particularly gassy period in the past i comforted myself by saying that i was just a person-balloon filled up with god farts & sometimes i just gotta let some of those out so that the world can have a little more god & i could be just a little more me & because parenting is like 85% improv that must've informed how i talked to my daughter a couple months later when her hermit crab died because i told her that we're all just filled up with energy & we toot it out a little here & there & crabby patty has simply tooted all of her air out & guess what that air will always float around & she'll smell those beefs from time to time & know that she's being visited by her friend & i thought that was kinda beautiful & i thought "science" & then at some point later i must've come across "you want a physicist to speak at your funeral" & i thought maybe kids could benefit from a book about death that is also kind of about quantum fart mechanics & then even later i thought about how in any interpersonal relationship or whatever i am me & i bring an accumulation of energy & thoughts and what have you & you are you & you bring an accumulation of experiences & feelings & what not & that us is just the literal space in between like the friggin particles of all that we bring & what does it mean if you feel like that space is holy & you don't want it to go away & eventually these ideas over five years or whatever coalesced & i wrote it as a story & then after an artist disappeared into the woods i was able to get one of my favorite artists to draw the most beautiful pictures of it & the most thoughtful press ended up having our backs & long story short you can buy the thing today because it's out cool