These psychedelic words are streams of consciousness. We are on an exploration of the self bathing in the inanity of the uniforms and labels of everyday life: hipster, real estate agent, husband, employee, celebrity, person.
 
And in the end it all means nothing like Seinfeld and that’s okay, because that was a good show, and this is a good book, so it works.
 
ERIC EVERYDAY
REAL ESTATE OF MIND
THE DARK SIDE OF ERIC
ERIC AND THE HIPSTER INTERNATIONAL
ENEMIES OF ERIC
GOOD GRIEF, CHARLIE BROWN
CELEBRITY ERIC
 
These are the sections that turn into the Jungian archetypes of Eric, a sort mythological and magical being (like a hipster) who in the end is all of us.
 
Eric Baker is the kind of person who does things and does not do things. Eric Baker is the guy who puts words together who makes you feel things. He is more soda than man. He is on the internet and is kind of hip.
 
The poems in this book come off as more blurbs or tweets than anything else. They are quick and sporadic and ranging in topics from Noam Chomsky to addiction to soda. They are the stuff of live journal and internal monologue. A new age epithet for the bored and successful.
 
Only two thoughts stick out after reading this laconic tirade: read this book and live your life without soda.