April 2010
11 posts
Burning up underneath my shirt without a shower was uncomfortable, yet at the same rate it felt fitting. Sweat from the night prior, in all its absence of sobriety, fixed itself close to my skin. The sun reflected brightly off of the sidewalk, a hazy brightness seen too often in those camping trip photos, fainted by disposable cameras bought in yet another absence of sobriety. We walked slightly...
The blues shook the room, the bass was almost violent and the horns shrieked with the same pugnacity. There was a blue in his eye so deep it hadn’t been named. The camera positioned its view in the blue depth, a rig drilling into its untapped beauty. This man was dying there on his disheveled bed, one could only refer to the grime of clothing and garbage surrounding his mattress as the...
Oh, he was fiery inside today. The democratic seat of his chest ablaze with vehement lust. After she’d passed, her flip-flops echoed her presence back to him. Much like a scent lingers. God, those flip-flops. They flipped and flopped like his heart, so fast, and he reached for a pen. What could he write? He thought about his number, about how he may write it with that pen and about how she...
RM: So I’m carrying my dissected cat up to the freezer and a family visiting ESF asks me if it’s still alive RM: …But I’m kind of high so all I could say was “It’s a cat.”
I live in a van down by Duke University: How do I... →
jesssica:
“Today I still live in the van. I haven’t taken out loans or borrowed money from anyone. Really, the only thing that’s different is that I’ve set up my laundry area by the passenger seat. Also, after another summer with the Park Service, I have more money than I possibly need. Now, instead of being poor, I am radically frugal. Sometimes, though, I think it would...
The dust bowl depression seen through an Indiana Jones Jeep with its windshield only cleared as far as the wipers could sway. Seen through the splintered fissures of a fence only suitable for The Sandlot (1993). That dusty cobweb corner, that nostalgic tumbleweed dirt road scene, that thistle weed overgrown sidewalk.
I lean hard against the bar, the weight of another lackluster workday relies on...
It's Grammar →
