Lillian The caustic rain of lacerations began as soon as Lillian burst awake at six am. The memory of that morning’s coffee would wound her two hours later. A baby in a stroller wounded her on the way to the bank. She tasted blood on her gums. A bus with mute, mutated faces in theContinue reading “Stab Wounds Everywhere”
Category Archives: Rant
A Cold Breakfast
I was young once and it lasted a good long mile. Like my grandfather before me. You may have heard of my grandfather, if you’re a true crime enthusiast. He became an infamous spree killer way back in 1957. His transition was sudden. In 2003, some talentless hack cobbled together a short documentary on myContinue reading “A Cold Breakfast”
Smothered Under Heavy Cement…
It took a silvery sliver of a second. I was only thirteen. It happened so long ago… Then why does it still weigh me down like a pair of gangster-style cement shoes? The sudden snap of light startled me from my transition into sleep…. I’d been edging into the relief of a dream…and then myContinue reading “Smothered Under Heavy Cement…”
Little Green Worms
Part One My intention was to write an exquisite, precise, highly-calibrated account of the time I arrived at a therapy appointment covered with little green worms. It was to be written in the 1st person with little parenthetical flourishes and jokes. It would build to a breathless climax and end with an ironic punchline. ButContinue reading “Little Green Worms”
The Active Training Sessions
The Active Training Sessions ended with the summer and Jacob hadn’t learned a goddamn thing. Ninja skills dulled. He would meet an attack with clumsy, uncertain moves. Hesitation begets paralysis. Hanging around deserted shopping malls (they’re easy to break into if you possess what old grandfathers referred to as gumption) watching mildew grow in patternsContinue reading “The Active Training Sessions”
The Crooner
The Crooner sat alone in his dressing room. He’d draped an old, stained tablecloth over the mirror and had unscrewed most of the light-bulbs around the frame. Dressing room lights were always too bright and the mirrors captured too many hard memories. He wore his life on his face. He lifted a pint of whiskeyContinue reading “The Crooner”
Crumbling Asphalt 