Everyone in the theater was so angry at me at the cars three midnight premier because they thought i fell asleep and was snoring. Well guess what assholes i actually choked on a thin mint during the previews and was agnonally breathing. I clinically died for 38 minutes. Kachow bitches

i have a 62 page novella. i am looking for a home for it

we are tired creatures worthless in the heat

"those are certainly all words," i say, jolting awake, interrupting the hospice nurse explaining the active dying process to my family

i have a substack now substack.com/@jonnybolduc

Artwork made with @smithsonianmag.bsky.social Smithsonian open access #smithsonian #openaccess

Lol disgusting bigots like Keith Self want a culture war? Why don’t we engage in this anti-trans campaign of bigotry and erasure with the same level of vitriol they are slinging at innocent people? This has to stop before trans people are hurt. Fix your heart or die.

Right now there is clear, overwhelming opposition to Mahmoud Khalil’s abduction across the moderate, liberal, progressive & left spectrum. This kind of loud unity is what authoritarians are afraid of. To keep it up we need every institution & public leader to join the chorus.

Cask of Amontillado as a verb, as in i am going to find the bastard who dropped my game boy color in a puddle in 2003 and Cask of Amontillado him in the drywall of an abandoned blockbuster

This is where we are now: An elementary school at Fort Campbell has removed all books from its library that so much as *allude* to slavery or the civil rights movement. The wholesale erasure of history in real time.

On the bright side, maybe going to one of RFKs wellness camps for my rampant not killing myself addiction will finally help me realize my lifelong goal of receiving a fucking lobotomy

writing a book is just bleeding profusely into a Google doc for six months

flash fiction from my newest book: teacher's prayer please, god. let the hot water in the trailer turn on, suddenly, like a river flooding a bank. let the nirvana hoodie that reeks of cat piss be washed with fresh detergent. let these kids know some kindness.

book is coming out, if you want a PDF let me know. i would ask for a goodreads review to help get momentum going but i wont hold ya to it

Do you guys remember when ai image creation was just those fucking nauseating green doglike looping things that literally made you physically sick to look at? Can we go back to that, please?

give death a reason to stay home from work. a reason to sleep through his alarm. a reason to get stuck in traffic. to keep his scythe sheathed. let death rest. purge the thoughts of leaving from your head, son. leaving is easy. staying is harder.

And if it is a placebo i am drinking it is lovely and floral. i will sup the plastic flowers with greed. if it is medicine that heals, it is bitter and harsh and i will spit it out on the floor. And if it is harm i will roll around in the festering garbage like a dog.

“911, what’s the address of the emergency?” Answered by a shriek of fear. “He’s dead. My friend just shot himself in the head. Oh my god, he’s dead,” the caller screams. “Sir, where is the gun?” he asks.

i'm at a weird point in my tiny career. i should send shit out to publishers, but i have no traction, no name recognition, and no patience to wait 6+ months. so i self publish, but that looks sloppy and lacks legitimacy and is a full time gig promoting. not sure what the fuck to do tbh

hollywood is lying to you.it's not dangerous to alter the timeline. show Alexander the gr8 moo deng. feed napoleon a mcdouble under duress. give dr suess a wedgie. give boudicca a 3ds and snap a fuedal peasant into a slimjim. it doesn';tMAKE A DIFFERENCE! Now excuse me while I blip out of existence

back into the submitting grind, took a bit of a break. Got a novella or two on the pipeline

Garfield rooms

heaven is real and i'm a squirrel chewing through the screen on heaven's kitchen window, tearing into the packages of english muffins, pooping on the counter, absolutely decimating a box of cheerios. god is chasing me around with a broom. i am cornered. i am not leaving. i will feast.

i'm built different. i would have but 15 more miles behind her and made Whitefish Bay. the witch of november simply COULDN'T come stealing

2024 sucked but at least I made it through without being a bone to be chewed when the gales of November came early

"this would have done numbers on vine" i say as I shove a video of the exact moment heaven emptied out and god flayed himself upon the rock into your face

my neck, my back, the alaskan bullworm bit my ass

"i never see you at the club." i look in the mirror and see a stranger. i look in the mirror and see a bloated, petulant child bruised and battered by time. i have almost no concept of self and what i do is crumbling into an obsidian sea of nothingness

Werner Hertzog slowly lowers his headphones, and makes direct eye contact with grandpa, having just listened to the raw, unedited footage of grandma being run over by a reindeer. “You must never listen to this. I think you should not keep it, you should destroy it.”

did anyone else notice that on election night twitter was literally like a trump campaign hq? Almost every single thing that was trending was pro trump

I open my Bluesky feed and it is full of really cool people saying really smart things and being really passionate about really interesting stuff. I like this version of social media, and the world. Thanks, folks.

there is a cage animal in my chest bursting to get out through the pounding of my heart. i drown it in diet cola

“I come from a patch of black ice and an over correction. I come from a strip mall parking lot that stretches back into the horizon like a mountain range. If we turned around and we beat the jaws of midnight I would have a Lowe's parking lot for a homecoming.”

how did three assholes get away with pretending to be dmitry. like "bro. i know the last two guys weren't dmitry but u gotta belive me bro. i swear bro, I'm dmitry. please. let me be tsar. come on bro. you know I wouldn't lie to you. i swear I'm dmitry bro. come on. bro."

are we allowed to shitpost on bluesky

ter i'm tackled by a jail warden, lucille bluth leans down and says "they don't allow you to have jenny holzer truisms in here"

we are not the same. i am the grizzled old fisherman warning "you best be indoors when the fog rolls in. strange happenings in the fog" and you are the out of town detective investigating a string of terrible murders in a picturesque maine fishing village.

people think the apocalypse is going to be something that falls out of the sky, a rock that smashes into our planet, bombs that chunk our earth and radiate us all, storms that sweep over our fields and cities and batter and break us.