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Thom Dunn is a Boston-based writer, musician, and utterly terrible dancer. He is the singer/guitarist for the indie rock/power-pop the Roland High Life, as well as a staff writer for the New York Times’ Wirecutter and a regular contributor at BoingBoing.net. Thom enjoys Oxford commas, metaphysics, and romantic clichés (especially when they involve whiskey), and he firmly believes that Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" is the single greatest atrocity committed against mankind. He is a graduate of Clarion Writer's Workshop at UCSD ('13) & Emerson College ('08).

Lá Fhéile Pádraig!

[soundcloud url="http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/12036874" iframe="true" /] Anyone who knows me can vouch for the fact that I love being Irish. I hold a great deal of pride in the culture, a feeling ingrained in me by my father since a very young age. We also know, of course, that I do enjoy drinking (as if the homebrewing section of my website weren't enough of an indicator). That being said, St. Paddy's Day (and that's "Paddy" for Pádraig, mind you. "Patty" is a girl's name, or what you might call a hamburger) inspires some conflicting feelings within me. I love the celebration of my heritage, and the recognition that it brings to such a unique and fascinating culture. But I find myself being constantly aggravated at the Plastic Paddies and rampant racism that accompanies the holiday. Sure, I plan on heading over to the pub on the 17th to enjoy a few pints, but that's not all there is. I plan on taking in a few Irish seisiuns, enjoying the music and the culture of Ireland, in addition to the drink. Too many people are happy to diminish the accomplishments of the Irish people and reduce us to alcoholic slobs. And while a great many of us do take to the drink — as well as there are many who actually suffer from alcoholism, which is far from humorous — there's much more about the Irish to celebrate. Unfortunately, most complaints about the depiction of Irish stereotypes in American culture are quickly brushed aside as essentially "white people problems." Despite the fact the Irish are generally an accepted — and celebrated — culture in modern day America (especially in Boston!), many seem to forget the years of struggle that our ancestors went through. Sure, it hasn't much affected me directly — no one's ever called me a "white nigger," or pointed to a sign saying "No Irish Need Apply" — but it affected my family, and thus, it's had affect on how I grew up and who I am today.

This week's post on Five By Five Hundred is brought to you by Brian Boru, Flann O'Brien, James Joyce, Fionn MacCumhaill, Brendan Behan, Samuel Beckett, Cuchulain, Maewyn Succa, and all of the other bright and brilliant faces of Irish culture that have had a positive impact worldwide.

"Nina Never Loved Me" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

(also, while you're at it, I suggest you check out The Shore, the newest Oscar-winning short film by Terry George)

The Past, The Present, and The Imperfect Future Walk Into a Bar...

Things have been less than ideal as of late, as my girlfriend's best friend quite abruptly passed away from an unexpected heart attack at the age of 28. As you can imagine, it's been a very rough and emotional week. I could very well fill this blog with my thoughts and feelings on the occasion, but anything factual I would attempt to type would feel disingenuous, so here are a few posts catching up on Five By Five Hundred that were inspired by the situation.

Rest in peace, Crystal Gomes. I guess a light as bright as yours is bound to burn out much too fast.

"Being Tense" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

"The Old Maid on the Bar Stool" (part one) (part two) on FiveByFiveHundred.com

No Time For Love, Doctor Jones

And so begins the madness. First, I'll be performing tonight at Mortified Boston, thanks to the fantastic Ms Lisa McColgan (a co-worker over at the Huntington, as well as a fellow writer on Five By Five Hundred and possibly the world's biggest zombie enthusiast). I'll be singing a hilariously embarrassing song that I originally wrote in high school, so if you want to see me get up and stage and humiliate myself, well, that's the place to be. On a less romantic note, this week's Five By Five Hundred entry recalls an encounter with one of my favorite homeless people on the entire planet (yes, I have more than one favorite homeless person). Singing the praises of a confessed former-gang-banger might not seem like the most topical choice for a Valentines Day post, but, well, in light of recent events *cough*Chris Brown*cough*, it makes some form of sense in my warped mind.

"Joe" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

Who Watches Alan Moore?

Alan Moore has a reputation. Besides being crazy, he's also famously curmudgeonly. If there's a problem with my grammar and use of adverb in the preceding sentence, then, well, Alan Moore can cast some crazy black magic spell on me. I don't really care. There's been a lot of news and opinions spewed forth around the internet regarding the recently announced Before Watchmen from DC Comics, a collection of prequel miniseries based on Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' universally acclaimed Watchmen. When it all comes down, Moore may have been screwed (multiple times) in the past, but DC currently has every legal right to make this happen, and, well, comics have a history of picking up from someone else's characters and making a run for it.

But that's neither here nor there. This post is just to tell you to check out my latest post on Five By Five Hundred, which was inspired by a comment made by Alan Moore in the video embedded below (which, fair warning, is a two-and-a-half hour long interview in which he is not surprisingly verbose and curmudgeonly and also crazy black magic wizard plus beard).

"Adventure Capitalism" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/36211102 w=450&h=264]

High Infidelity

In doing research for an article I'm working on for Quirk Books, I pulled out my personal copy of High Fidelity (the novel) by Nick Horny. And what do I find inside?

Handwritten song lyrics. Except, it's not my handwriting. And I'm pretty sure I've never lent this book out to anyone to borrow. Eerie, right? And yet, kind of poetic.

So obviously, I laid claim to it (despite the fact that it's, erm, not very good), and turned into a found poem for Five By Five Hundred (which also worked out well because it's been a busy few days, between taking my poor chinchilla to the hospital with a broken arm, and sitting on the "Tweet This?" panel for Arts In America).

"Sonic Death Monkey" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

Haiku Beer Review: The Third!

Continuing in my established tradition from the Mass Brewer's Fest and last year's Winter Beer Jubilee, I present for you the latest installment of Haiku Beer Review, compiled at the 2012 Winter Beer Summit. I make tasting notes into my phone as the night goes on, so that I can turn them into haikus when I get home (and eventually sober up). I know, I know, I'm a genius, it's true. Anyway, enjoy! (Also, thanks to Dig Boston for the free tickets and for putting up with my whining. #thomdunnwantsbeer)

"Haiku Beer Review #3: Winter Beer Summit 2012" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

It's All In The Ears

So apparently there are some people out there who are absolutely disgusted by the sight of attached earlobes. (I assume that these are the same people that experience actual physical revulsion at the sound of the word "moist") (you know who you are) Still, it got me thinking a bit about bigotry, and the features that people are born with that lead to discrimination. Thus, instead of stooping to making fun of Jeph Loeb again, I decided to write a short fiction piece about a world in which those with attached earlobes suffer from the same kind of humiliation, discrimination, and hate as some of the more persecuted minority groups today. I guess what I'm trying to say is, attached earlobes is the new Black. I mean, not that — I don't mean like — I'm not a racist, but — oh, forget it.

"Lobe Lobe Lobe" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

It's been a busy week 'round this here parts, so no brand new post over at Five By Five Hundred. Instead, and in honor of James Joyce's body of work becoming public domain, I've shared an oldie-but-goodie that I wrote about 5 years ago, inspired by the first and last lines of Joyce's magnum opus, Finnegans Wake (no, I haven't read the whole think, but I've read some of it). It's a little avant-garde, but it's one I'm pretty proud of from back in the day.

"(riverrun)" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

Athbhliain Faoi Mhaise Daoibh

That's "Happy New Years" in the Irish. Or, more literally, it's kind of "A Prosperous Year Upon All Of You" but it's the same gesture. Anyway, here we are. 2012. You know what that means. I encourage you to live every day like it's volume 3 of The Invisibles.

(...you *have* read The Invisibles, yes?)

Today on FiveByFiveHundred.com, I weave a fantastical tale about a New Years romance gone horribly, horribly awry, a yarn which may or may not be based on someone whom I actually met at a party this weekend and may or may not have wanted to inflict violence upon because of the incredibly douche-tastic things that s/he may or may have said ("Like, you can totally just tell like a lot about someone if they smoke like American Spirits, right?" OH MY GOD SHUT UP).

Okay. That's it. I feel better now. I swear.

"Stranger In a Strange Year, or, All-American Spirits" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

And just in case you haven't read it...

Such a beautiful moment at the end of the world. Gets me every time. *sniff**sniff*

Top Ten

It's that time of year again, when every website and blog and news outlet dials up their completely arbitrary criterium and publishes their "Top 10" lists for the year. This year I finally pulled off something I've been meaning to do for a while: a Top 10 list of "Top 10" lists of the year. A comprehensive list of the best of the best of the "Best Of" lists. ME SO META.

"Top Ten 'Top 10' Lists of 2011" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

Wooo! Yeahhhh! Sick Day!

Well so like I had this totally awesome for my writing project today right? But then I somehow wound up with this vicious stomach bug and spent the last 48 hours either (a) on the toilet, (b) with my head in a bucket, or (c) both (not to the mention the awful fever and chills that came along with it). So you'll forgive me for my lack of progress. (I'm feeling better now, thanks)

"Sonnet for the Sick" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAwf6wnNNBw&w=420&h=315]

Night of the Living Undead Turkey

Drinking! Family! Revelry! Tryptophan! All the things that make Thanksgiving such a wonderful holiday! But then — what comes after? The barren wasteland full of angry zombies, near-comatose after having gorged on too much flesh and blood. So basically, after dinner time, Thanksgiving becomes kind of a post-apocalyptic landscape, the kind you see in Zombie films or Mad Max. You can figure out where this is going, can't you?

"Post-Turkeypocalypse" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

Attack of the #NaNoWriMoNoceros

We're two-thirds of the way through the annual National Novel Writing Month, and over at Five By Five Hundred, I've decided to offer you a little help in finishing your novel. Don't worry, you don't have to thank me. I did it all out of the kindness of my heart. This 500-word novel excerpt will fit into any and everyone's great book-to-be, regardless of the genre or subject matter. Seriously. No one will even notice that all of you have the exact same three paragraphs somewhere in the book. Go ahead. Take it. It's all yours.

"Excerpt From Your In-Progress Novel" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

Last Caress

Every year, I tell myself that I'm going to do #NaNaWriMo, but sadly, I never get very far. November is always an incredibly busy time of year me, and it's not like I'm not writing or working on other things; it's just a difficult time to focus on cranking out those 50,000 words. Still, I use the time I would otherwise dedicate to #NaNoWriMo to work on any of those other projects, including those kind of horror-punk-rock-young-adult story I've been throwing around (tentatively titled "Last Caress" after my favorite song by The Misfits). Over at Five By Five Hundred, I've included a small excerpt, comparing the local punk rock scene to the creation of a living Frankenstein-esque monster (yes, I realize that Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster, but it would sound kind of ridiculous if I called it a 'Frankenstein's monster-esque monster,' right?)

"Where Eagles Dare" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

(side note, "Last Caress" by the Misfits is also, without competition, the single greatest pop song ever written about killing babies. Just, uh, just sayin')

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F39UP1mjAnc&w=420&h=315]

Haiku Beer Review — Part 2

In a tradition that began back in January at the Winter Beer Jubilee in Boston, I recently posted the second iteration of my "Haiku Beer Review" series, which is precisely what it sounds like — beer reviews, in haiku form (I also try to tweet Haiku Beer Reviews whenever I try a new brew at a bar). These reviews began as voice memos that were taken by my friends and I at the Mass Brewer’s Fest at the Seaport World Trade Center in Boston on September 2, 2011, but I only just got around to compiling the voice memos and turning them into haikus. Anyway, if you like beer and/or poetry and/or drinking, I'd advise you check it out (along with, hopefully, some new beers)!

"Beer Review Haiku part Two" at FiveByFiveHundred.com

The Horror! The Horror!

Halloween. When the dead walk the Earth. Meanwhile, we have protests spreading wide across the country, facing down corruption and police brutality at every turn. But what really matters is OH EM GEE KIM KARDASHIAN AND KRIS HUMPHRIES ARE GETTING A DIVORCE AFTER ONLY TWO AND A HALF MONTHS OF MARRIAGE!

"The Horror! The Horror!" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

Freshman Weekend; or, Beer Beer Sex Shots Shots Shots Shot Puke WHOOPS

Here's the thing: I'm 25 years old, just over 3 years out of college. I stay out late, I drink (and make) lots of beer, I work in the arts, and show up at my job most days in cut-off jean shorts (or "jorts," if you will) and a t-shirt. I don't feel that old — I'm not that old — and the idea of college doesn't seem like it's so far away. But biking from Harvard Square on Friday night, I discovered that college was indeed back in session, and that I have apparently become a jaded old man. It was the first weekend of college for many freshmen at Boston's countless universities. It was a beautiful night as well, so the frosh were out in droves, playing at adulthood by making lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of obnoxious (but incredibly fun) mistakes from which they will (one day) hopefully learn. "Freshmen Weekend," as I like to call it, is not that day. My bike route brought me past Harvard, MIT, Boston University, Northeastern, and Wentworth University, as well as plenty of off-campus student abodes. You know those 13-year cicadas? It was kind of like that.

So mid-bike ride (I swear, it was totally safe), I recorded this poem, which I then fixed up when I got home. Enjoy!

"Freshmen Weekend" on FiveByFiveHundred.com

Just Another Manic Monday (for a crazy lady)

For some reason, every awkward/terrifying/bizarre thing that happens to me when leaving work gets turned into a silly, traditional poem. Don't know why. Just run with it. There's this woman who walks up and down Massachusetts Avenue near my office, carrying a mirror out in front of her and admiring herself while she walks. I always just assumed she was insane (and that her vanity happened to be a side product of said insanity), and let her walk along her merry way, insanity and all. And mirror.

That is, until this past Thursday, when she assaulted me on my way to the train (on my way to the airport, on way to DC, on my way to another train, on way to Cadillac Carl and his Crimson Cadillac Company, on my way to Maryland for a wedding, on my way to a bus in New York City, on my way back to Boston. But I digress). "Liar!" she screamed, "You are liar! Liar! You bad! Evil Liar! LIAR!" etc., etc., with a bloodcurdling shrillness that was so wretched that it actually gave me goosebumps and left me shaken up for the next half hour. I don't frighten easily, but having a crazy Asian lady with a mirror run at you screaming "Liar!" like you just raped and murdered her family — well, that can be a little intense.

So naturally, I immortalized her madness in a poem. Enjoy!

"The Manic Mirror Maid of Massachusetts Avenue" on FiveByFiveHundred.com