Archive for September, 2011

Slacker!

Steph and I are in Austin, TX for Austin Teen Book Fest.  There are a wagon load of excellent authors here.  But, what am I most psyched about?  Taking pictures of Steph that look vaguely like Slacker, a movie that nearly caused me to drop out of life entirely and stay in my dirty apartment debating everything from 19th Century European Philosophy to the TV Show Good Times with all-comers (like three other dudes who were similarly predisposed).  We ate beans and drank cheap beer and talked and talked and talked about almost nothing.  Beautiful days.  They couldn’t last (bad smelling house).  I’m going to do my best to remember!

Slacker.

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When I was a kid, I’d run head first into the refrigerator

I have a double standard.  When I was a kid, I’d put on a football helmet, run down the stairs from my bedroom, leap over ottoman and coffee table, dodge the freaking cat (vicious: named Lil Bit), then crash through the kitchen to put a hit on the refrigerator (nearly knocked myself out once).  I rode my bike off small cliffs.  I skied into woods at 60 miles an hour.  I jumped off the roof of my house into the sandbox.  I threw rocks at wasp nests.  I was an idiot.  And, I was very happy.

Now my son is playing football and I’m all like, “Whoa.  Jeez, man.  You sure you want to do this?  Uh… there are some big kids out there, right?  Killers.  They want to hurt you.  You know that don’t you?  Pop you.  Take your head off.  You have to be prepared for that. Hit them first!  Hey… I like your piano playing.  What’s wrong with piano?  Isn’t piano enough for you?”

What’s my problem?

I want to protect the boy.  He does not want to be protected.  I really loved playing football, too.  It was my favorite thing.  I liked getting hit.  I liked hitting.  I liked it when my ears rang.  That’s not healthy, I know.  Still. Football is seriously fun.  Must get over it, Herbach.

Number 80.

Okay, I’m trying to get all my junk ready for a new website, so I’m not posting much.  In the meantime, if you have Stupid Fast questions and you’re not finding the information here, just email me — geoff (dot) herbach (at) gmail (dot) com.  Why write it that way?  I don’t know.  Other people do it.  Hackers?  Spammers?  Is that who I’m hiding from?


I am…

Geoff Herbach. I am the author of Stupid Fast and Nothing Special, among a bunch of other stuff. When I'm not writing, I teach writing at Minnesota State, Mankato.

Stupid Fast

Nothing Special

I’m With Stupid

Fat Boy (Gabe Johnson Takes Over)

PowderKeg Stage

Herbach's favorite store

My Bizzle

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