I could go on about “El Chapulín Colorado,” and about the genius of Chespirito, but here’s what I could fit in an index card: that I had no idea that chapulín meant cricket or that the show had stopped filming in 1979, which meant I had watched it all through my childhood in reruns.
I try to piece out why I loved a Rachel Ingalls passage so much, particularly one that feels almost tossed off:
I love Ingalls's variation on the gothic-horror convention of not being able to leave a place you know you should absolutely leave ASAP, the icy humor in the heroine going, "Well, it'd be rude to. It'd make my boyfriend look rude to these strangers w/ their bathroom toads."
One thing I didn’t add: I actually almost never ate here, because it felt too fancy and expensive.
I like to go on little social media breaks now and then, which means that all the stuff I’d usually post on Twitter or Instagram or whatever gets moved to over here, though the index card below and nearly all the Post-It doodles in the next post were up on the usual places.
And also when you are a writer
I tried and failed to draw a Ray Johnson snake from memory:
Which led me to think about failed Johnson bunnies and also U2’s Zooropa spaceman doodle that I copied and messed with until it became a dude buried at the bottom of a page: