Category: Personal Essay
-
The Long Dawn
A long morning yawns its mallow yellow yawn out there on the grass where the trees and the heart live, out there where the mad heat melts the orgy moon and capsizing starships. It was a day where I felt my guts reeling in agony and worry. I had been at the hip girl’s room Read more
-
The Cloud City of Nashville
And there I was, raspy as a ghost lost in time, so drunk on the night that I tried to put a pair of glasses on over another pair I was already wearing. Earlier I had been in the bookstore in the cloud city of Nashville. I saw the metal and glass buildings—squares, oblongs, towers, Read more
-
Have You Heard of Personal Space?
I don’t know what it is, but lately I feel like a human magnet. That’s not the same as a chick magnet. Read more
-
The Coffeehouse Crapshoot
I was ready to smash things, and she was more than willing to just move on to a greater destination and not let our let down weigh us down. Read more
-
A Tussle with a Tassel
I just kneeled before that hearth of red brick like a monk and watched it flame up, curl, and finally turn black and tumble to ash. Read more
-
Wow. That’s exciting.
I decided to go to our local Goodwill to see if they would take it. The store has a donation center attached to it. I was worried the attendant might come over and start yelling at me about dropping off a television. Read more
-
What the hell are you thinking!?
I need to get rid of an old TV. While scouring the internet to try and find a place to recycle an old TV, I’m discovering there are not a lot of options – at least where I live. What do you do when something once shiny and brand new is nothing but something old Read more
-
Willy Wanker and the Keto Bread Factory
As Wilford Brimley would say, I have DIE A BEE TUSS. And when you have DIE A BEE TUSS, you can’t eat anything that tastes good. No sweets, no pasta, no rice, no bread, no potatoes, no soda, no ice cream, no candy, no pizza, no hamburgers, no CEREAL!… And the list seems to go Read more
-
A Cemetery Scrawl, Like Litter in the Wind
Zombie in sweatpants jogging in the ghetto, arms stuck out lean and mean, cold soles slapping the greasy street Read more
CEREAL AFTER SEX 