matt makes stuff



Parquet Monsters
Torch Café
Hit me up

Parquet Monsters

For rent: Fully restored and furnished Pokéball in the beautiful Thousand Oaks district in downtown Berkeley. Ball is 4 square inches but very roomy once spatial compression has been applied. Ball will be carried around by my nephew Tyler, just knock when you need to get out. Tenants who like kids and are enthusiastic about Minecraft a bonus. Rent is $2500 a month plus gas and electric (Wi-fi is included), no pets.

Torch Café

One hot dog with everything, but just a ghost of each topping, please. No more than what's needed to taint the dog with the condiment’s essence.

Actually, give me a hot dog that I suspect, but can’t confirm, was recently in the same room as someone cooking chili and chopping onions, please.

On second thought, just give me a 300 word poem about hot dogs that I can read while imagining my platonic idea of the perfect hot dog experience, please. And a diet coke. Please.

Oh, Pepsi’s fine.

If it’s not too much trouble, could you gently tease me about how picky I am? Could you give me a cute crooked smile? When I pretend to pout, could you tickle the back of my neck until I shiver like she used to love? Like I always pretended to hate?

Could you eat yours with exaggerated relish? (could you give me shit for the bad hot dog pun?)

Face twisted into a grotesque parody of ecstasy, each bite more transcendent than the last?

(These condiments, my God! Sweet Ambrosia! You don’t know what you’re missing!)

(Tomatoes on a hot dog? I’m from this little country, maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called America. We don’t put up with that kind crap here.)

(Don’t knock it til you try it, comrade.)

Oh, sorry. Trying to remember. I think it was around 32, and really windy. We were sitting by the door, so make sure I get a nice frigid gust every couple of minutes.

Could you turn the gravity down to about 80, please?

Better make it 70.

Thanks, that’s a load off.

Could you play this while I

eat? It’s a CNN broadcast from 2004.
Oh, you don't have a VCR? No that's okay, I should have realized.

I’ve been meaning to burn it to DVD, just never got around to it.

It’s funny how time gets away from you.

Nope, that should do it. Oh! Sorry, how much for a thing of potato salad? One of those, too.

No, that's still not quite right.

I don't know if I'm not describing it well or if I just can't remember.

No, it’s okay! You guys were great, it’s totally my fault.

Thanks so much for your help. I’ll give you a good review on yelp.

Hit Me Up

1996: do you have email?
1997: do you have icq?
1998: do you have paltalk?
1999: do you have aim?
2000: do you have msn messenger?
2001: do you have yahoo messenger?
2003: do you have skype?
2004: do you have myspace?
2005: do you have facebook?
2007: do you have twitter?
2008: do you have instagram?
2010: do you have kik?
2011: do you have google talk?
2012: do you have facebook? (again)
2015: do you have discord?
2020: do you have email?
2025: do you have a telephone?
2030: do you have any water?


If I can direct your attention to this chart, it's clear that over my lifetime, the amount of time I spend manipulating (or "playing with") small plastic objects 📉 inversely correlates with my overall levels of existential dread. 📈


I want to go to a place and have incredibly loud music played at me until I can't think

I want to wear ear plugs and earmuffs so my brain doesn't leak out and I want to be surrounded by giant amplifiers and have sound waves from distorted guitars vibrate the everloving fuck out of my bones and organs. I want noise rock to liquefy my skeleton and scramble up all my neurons

I want a giant menacing piece of unfathomable alien technology shaped like satan's drum machine to scream raw tectonic decibels at me until my atoms disintegrate and a cloud of nanoscopic demonic cyber-sprites reassemble me into the charred seraphic beast whose unbearable tuneless song will pierce the heavens. I will shriek the true name of God, undo creation, and set everything right again.

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