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This is Wordbrew. So strap in. If you think you're too short to ride this ride...fuck it, ride it anyway. Cause if you like coffee, beer, the written word, technology, anime, the fucking cosmos, superpowers and ice cream, then this is the site for you. I'm a writer and web designer as well as a bunch of other shenanigans, and this is my highly caffeinated brain dump. Enjoy.
Jun  25

By Christopher Shiner

I can cook a poem many different ways
But usually I like to set my mind on medium heat
flip it around in the skillet
and let it sizzle in its juices for awhile.
There are all sorts of tricks I use to tell if it’s done enough.

Mostly though, I just poke it with my finger,
see how much give it has.
Too much and I know I’ve undercooked it.
If it looks too pink and raw I throw it back in the pan.
Too little means I’ve overdone it
So I try to pick off the crispy parts
and see if I can salvage the good stuff in the middle.

There are times when it seems
like it will never get done.
Till finally I’m forced to serve it as is,
and hope it tastes alright.

Then there are times
when I’ve had the heat on too high
the poem on for too long
and it becomes so burnt that it’s unsalvageable.

Those I throw in the dumpster out back.
That is until I run out of ingredients.

Then I have to go back and scavenge through the refuse…

See if I missed something tasty.

Jun  25

By Christopher Shiner

I tell you I was resting peacefully.
Till the sun took a shit in my eye
And damned if the day didn’t follow suit.

That’s what I get for having
A window that faces east
And a mind that faces west.

Feb  24

By Christopher Shiner


Her face is like

Melting pavement.


Pissed off hot,


I’m afraid

if I attempt to touch it,


I would only succeed in

Smearing the asphalt.


Disfiguring her further.

Feb  21

This. Is. Insane.


So I love coffee. I love art. Naturally this gels into a profound love of coffee art (or really anything to do with coffee. You make incredible music off swirling your finger on glass cups filled with coffee and I’m gonna freak on that too.) So when I came across this site featuring the artist Hong Yi doing a coffee cup portrait of singer Jay Chou, inspired by his song “Secret”, my mind jumped up and down like a 6 year old hopped up on donuts and well, coffee.



As you can tell from the picture, it’s like the Pointillism painting style for the heavily caffeinated. Instead of dots unifying in the viewers mind to form the picture, such as Georges Seurat’s famous painting “A Sunday on La Grande Jatte”, it’s all done by careful placement of coffee rings.


Now I like to draw, but the patience and creativity it took to create this is beyond me. It took her 12 hours, using nothing but a cup, saucer and the precise allotment of coffee to make the cup ring. Too much or too little coffee and the ring formation doesn’t turn out correctly, and you have to be sure on your placement, because once laid, those rings are pretty much permanent.


Watch the video, and be mesmerized by her process.


Now, here is my question (hope really). Did Hong Yi create this in one 12 hour power session, or was this 12 hours spread over several days, done a few hours at a time? How many cups of coffee did it take, and was she continuously sipping from them as she painted?

My hope is that she did it in one 12 hour power block, her brain flying full tilt boogie, fueled by the very medium she’s using to paint with.

Now that’s a combo of vice and virtue I can get behind!


Here is a direct link to the article.


It has some wonderful pictures of her as she goes through the process, and goes into more detail about her inspiration for the piece.

Feb  12

By Christopher Shiner


The uncertainty in my gut is always an unwelcome guest.

He struts around, clucking along to Richard Wagner’s

“Ride of the Valkyries”, which he

blares much too loud for my tastes.

Its bombastic vibrations crash against the

inner lining of my stomach

and ricochets out towards my fingertips

and that small section midway up my spine,

like a billion hairs standing on the ends of my insides.

I’ve had to soundproof my skin

to keep the neighbors from noticing,

but then the silence makes the effect that much more unnerving.


He moves in about an hour before you come over,

and insists on staying the rest of the day after you’ve gone. He never cleans up after himself,

just leaves his shit strewn over the bed of my dignity,

and along the floor of my self‑confidence.


And I’m left with only one certainty

That next time

I refuse to answer the fucking door.

Feb  12

By Christopher Shiner


I cried you into the sink today

my love

The tears broke against the residue

of Scope and toothpaste

Now instead of bitterness

you’re running down my drains

all full of minty freshness and fond memories.

Feb  12

Well not JUST words (cue the exhilarating drum buildup…)

It’s a blog! It’s got photos! Illustrations! Words! Other random shit I find in the couch cushions of my mind! And it’s chock full of extraneous exclamation points!!!!!


You’ll never know what you find in here. But I guarantee you it will be tangential, coffee fueled, (sometimes beer, sometimes BOTH!) and since the slant of my brain tilts about 45 degrees on any given night, a bit askew.

Feb  11

By Christopher Shiner


The minutes drip down

Off my clock

And collect under my bed

Like rain water


My eyes roll over

To scan again

Throwing their intangible

Ocular hands

Under the rivulets

Of the flowing temporal stream


Straining to collect the Uncontrollable

And hold it hostage

If only for an hour or two





The river races towards 6:45 a.m.


My eyes try to shut in vain


4 a.m. plunges off the clock radio

Rushing to swim with his friends


Futility prances around me

Like a drunken court jester


And laughing


And laughing


But wait!

Oh yesssss…

Darkness begins to thicken

And cradle my bloodshot brain





Containing the remaining hours

In a dam built of slumbering bliss









Snooze alarm.

Five more minutes…

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