Showing results for 2013
he was special
i imagine his hands sometimes when i’m feeling bored
and want to think about middle school
they were fucking huge and could probably seriously
Kingston Falls, USA is the most beautiful matte painting on earth. An idyllic little town with buildings clustered together for warmth on the snow-covered streets, brush-stroke lampposts casting a
Across the street, I see a large, jolly-looking man with a white beard and white hair leaving the house of our friends, David and Shelby. The man is wearing camouflage – the jacket, hat and hip waders of a duck hunter.
I am at the back of the ConEx with a broom in my hand, smoking a cigarette. Every year it is the same. The light filters in through the opposite end where a padlock hangs from a steel latch on the
At nearly two in the morning, in the room across the hall from where his wife slept, Geoff Devine was awake, gazing down at the above ground pool in the backyard. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew that within the giant wooden drum, the murky water reflected the light of the moon.
To be honest, there were other books that had as great an impact on me, but I don’t have access to those authors (Bret Easton Ellis – Lunar Park, Elizabeth Wurtzel – More, Now, Again, W. Somerset Maugham – Of Human Bondage)..
In jest you call for your horse, but there is no horse. It’s a bright lettuce-green morning, birds piping overhead. You are on foot, and follow the derelict tracks out of town past the Shell Station. You step off the road and onto a furry plain of high golden weeds and yellow dross. This is strange.
Lyle worked the night shift in a millwork factory, manning a machine nicknamed the Pincher. Everyone hated the Pincher. On the day shift they kept going through operators. Before Lyle, the longest anyone else had lasted on the Pincher was two years. At least that was how the story went. Lyle hated the Pincher too, but he’d learned to live with it. He’d been there nine years and would be there another nine if they let him. By then he’d have enough saved up for a nice house, one with stairs and a workbench and actual carpeting.
Delaney Nolan is the newest kid on the block. The one everyone whispers about, envies. Finding her story, “My Man,” in Wigleaf was an I-know-the-words-by-heart-before-you-all-recognize-the-name,
Two queens walk out of a bar and light a cigarette, me and Lucy Littlefist. Lucy says this. She says, “In a relationship,” she traces quotation marks in the air around the word, “one of you always loves the other more.” And she’s right. She secures her wig with another bobby pin, pulls at her sequined dress.
Truth is Scottie Pippen / wasn’t born. He hatched from an egg that was stuck / to another, slightly larger egg. The opposite of Mugsy Bogues / on an airplane and the oxygen mask drops down, / for his seat only. Mookie Blaylock dresses up as Mookie / Blaylock for Halloween.
There was once a time when my aunt and uncle had room enough to take us the odd weekends our parents were on vacation. Their house was smaller than ours and I felt haughty in it. The walls were dark and the air smelled musty. In the afternoons dust poured in the air like cigarette smoke in an old black and white movie. Going out into the sun was blinding.
I have been given the opportunity to discuss some of the key inspirations behind my latest book, Basal Ganglia. Works of fiction never just appear from a magical nothing. During the eighteen