Wednesday, July 28, 2010

rehearsing the big confession

So where was I? Yeah, I was ordering coffee, and I went with the rancid Ethiopian, so I was adding some of that sugar that's brown so it's, what?, better for the environment or something?, to improve the burnt rubber aftertaste and then this lady comes in, and, you know, she's one of those. You know the types. Big hair, big purse, big SUV, big sunglasses. Big rock on her left hand. Tight jeans that a woman her age may be able to wear but really shouldn't, and she couldn't make up her god damned mind.

the August reading list is still in the compilation stage

less than 48 hours until arrival elsewhere

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


He will make it as far as Colorado Springs, where a weary conductor will read him the riot act about trespassing and threaten a lot of bullshit about the repercussions of transporting minors across state lines, threaten to telephone child services and the governor, then look the other way while the kid escapes and scrambles to hitchhike across the final stretch of the Rockies. The conductor had hitchhiked for a week and a half himself, back when he was twenty four and just out of the Army and returning to his sweetheart in Oklahoma, and now they had two sons and were a part of the clockwork of their community, so he wasn't worried about the fate of the traveler, who was picked up by a high school youth group on their way to a revival camp in the mountains, in a chartered bus with a driver who may have been on substances expressly forbidden to members of God's flock.

messages of hope and cheer and joy and love

sunflowers, a tornado warning, a tornado drill, a lightening storm

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

liberté &c

It is often reported that, deep in the woods, lurks a being so foreign and so forlorn, so passed over by evolution and by civilization, that all it can do is shake its shaggy head and bellow, bellow at the unfairness of the universe to pass it by and leave it alone in the woods struggling to communicate with beings of too fragile a construction, too rapid a lifespan to ever be peers or companions.

ceci et cela

c'est Juillet: anniversaires partout

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

with thanks to 1925

Then my memories just start disappearing. I remember the tastes of burnt coffee and warm beer, the scent of a roasting hog and the sound of the lawn mower, but I couldn't tell you if I live in a house or in an apartment, whether or not I'm married, whether or not I have kids, or what state I live in. If my arms didn't hurt quite so badly (and I'm beginning to suspect my wrists just might be tied together) then I'd reach into my back pocket for my wallet and verify these particulars with a glance at my driver's license and business card. Come to think of it, my legs might be tied together, too, and back in elementary school I was always the losing team of the three legged race, so even if I could stand up I probably wouldn't be going anywhere, if I knew where I was, or where I might want to be headed.

"I've been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library. -- The Great Gatsby / Fitzgerald

is there any greater summer joy than a knotted rope, a riverside, a leap into the cold depths?