Tuesday, September 29, 2009


sitting around and picking my buggers and waiting for genius to strike. a stroke of genius would be swell about now. an inspirational embolism straight to my constipated creativity. am i not eating enough deep fried brie? am i not poking far enough up my nose? what's the deal? where's my stroke?

can you help stroke me?

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

try better

so adam and i were plotting operation ikea and i said that the store was in red hook and adam said that sounded "seedy" and i corrected him that it sounded "swedey"

omFUCKINGg i am hilarious!

  • today we go to ikea
  • tomorrow i go see starfucker at santos party house. THIS IS MY EXCITED FACE!
  • and THEN on THURSDAY, i go-go dance at the evb fall party. which, happy day, is also the after party for slava mogutin's opening at envoy. slava is, by the by, one of my all-time favorite photographers. THIS IS MY EVEN MORE EXCITED FACE!
life is the slow alchemy of time: changing everything to memories.

Monday, September 14, 2009

a threat to the traditional definition of infidelity

fun. it's what i do. it's my middle name. scott "fun" thomas. why my parents chose to include the quotation marks is a bit of a mystery. a cruel mystery, really; people at the dmv usually seem like they're making fun of me. making "fun," that is. haha, get it?

some things fun and i have recently done:

and all of that is in addition to the normal fun things i do, like drink myself sideways, disrobe on the dance floor, and go home with what can only be called "people."

if you know of something "fun" to do, please alert me! my social calendar is packed, but there are plenty of friends i have been meaning to blow off. and of course, we are fast approaching the annual holocaust of fun that is HALLOWEEN! i need to get a costume and a life insurance policy.

repetition prediction repetition prediction repetition


you, my lovely little world, are my kosher oyster and i am a giant walking point of view. old people and young people and dead people and people i wish were dead and sexy people (such as myself) and people i wish were sexy and dead sexy people and sexy dead people and insensitive people and sensitive assholes and lovely little daddy-issue faggots: i view you all from the comfort of my point. ants crawling out of a butt-hole in the ground. that's you, world. king of the hill. queen of the hole. that's me. i built this body out of food so you could spill yourself on my ass like a pierced poached egg. drink me. eat me. i make you big and i make you small. do whatever you want with my legs just don't fucking apologize. face-down on the counter-top, this is my point of view. this is my point.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Something Wicked

Today we have another of my fictitious newspaper columns.

In The Knew
Observations for the young and the young at heart
by S.T. Peterson

"Something Wicked"

Summer surrenders from our scenic Christian hemisphere like so many mourning goddesses. Grills gasp their final hot-dog-scented breath, pools change their sparkling surfaces to placid plastic and our thoughts turn to the year's most momentous occasion. That annual apex of cultural import. That holiest of holidays. The one, the only, the impending: Halloween!

Soon, October's numinous mystique will gather like dead leaves to an artificially sweetened climax of libidinous masque. Costume, confection, and living flesh will sate our midnight appetite as apples bob around in vodka and doormats cackle. Of course, Mr. Kristol, there are no benefits without costs. Sacrifices must be made to Goth Dionysus; virgins, brain cells, that formerly charming Ikea rug. And in return, for one night only, we are pardoned from the terminal sentence everyone serves: identity.

Which brings us to a subject most dire. Two mere months to go and where is your costume?! Time quietly conspires to make you his fool, hastily clad in rental shop dregs or recycled regalia or T-shirt irony. The party pariah. The puke-doused hobo prone on five subway seats. An embarrassment! With dignity on the line you must be original. Creative. A Da Vinci of hairspray and fake blood. Failures of imagination or craft bespeak either an antisocial apathy or meaningfully inferior genes. The sort none want in their pool. Lucky for you, old S.T. is here with this newspaper column!

Good Costume Ideas:
  • Ghost
  • Michael Jackson
  • An evil version of yourself (w/ goatee)
  • Healthcare reform (don't show up to the party)
  • The crazy puke-doused hobo
  • The sexy Garrison Keillor
Remember, the goal of Halloween is simple: get dressed up, get fucked up, and get fucked. It is never too early to plan ahead. In fact, take a moment right now and think about what you'd like to be. Please share your ideas with stpeterson@nybanner.com. I will plagiarize the best submissions for various of my social appearances all October long.

When the phantoms are mortal once more, counting their hickeys in the November dawn, and the alter egos have changed back into absurd clothing, reflect a spell on the meaning of your existence. I believe you will find it in your camera, patiently awaiting upload to Facebook.