...the products we couldn't get here. They'd come home with stories of innocent smiles given to bored border guards while they wore two pairs of jeans under three dresses. The trunk of their car filled with Cherry Coke and flavours of chips we couldn't comprehend. Cheap rum. Meat. Cigarettes. Electronics.
In the far-flung depths of the future, historians
will look back to this day and say, "This
is where it all went wrong."
This was the “Year of the Whopper”:
I ate a Whopper.
I ate a Whopper.
You dumped me.
There’s something about a horse that floats.
Watch her neck hover over the half-door
of a stall, or her sunlit backside rise
My perverse compassion had destroyed all traces of a once-in-a-lifetime trip.
Everything is cosmically predestined when you are stoned. She put off the trip as long as she could, eating three-day old pasta out of Tupperware. This is what they mean by mind-numbing. This is some strong shit.
Benjamin Franklin’s wife rubbed his paper fingers all over her body, saying, "I’ve got you now, Sweet Baby, I’ve got you now.”
A Tribe Called Quest
We Got It From Here... Thank You 4 Your Service
Released: November 11, 2016
Label: Epic Records
Length: 61 minutes, 16 songs
All of my favorite people are
Do you remember everything I said last night? she asked.
You mean do I remember you crying and saying you loved me?
She needs a quick blowout, so I comb and press her golden hair until is a sheer curtain fluttering around a face thrown open to love.
“I love watching you get dressed.”
“More than you love watching me undress?”
When I am not exercising or performing space walks or cleaning or developing vehicle software, I watch the sun rise 16 times a day.
I had written a few aborted short stories before, but really I specialized in aborted novels.
I think about small green soldiers searching for Crater Lake.
The stories in Virgin blew me away with their strange sexy intelligence and overall aliveness.
Because you find it interesting and want it analyzed without the burden of being analyzed yourself.
Standing in the kitchen the other day, out of nowhere I became disoriented and unsure of where I stood.
This guy’s old school, Roselli says to me over the phone, real old school. How old school can you be, I’m thinking, in a sport that’s already run its course in just a few years.
Check out John's previous Adventure Comics:
"I Need Your Boat"
"The Lucky Texan"
Deconstructionism
is just a fancy word for
skepticism
which is just a foggy word for
nihilism
which is just a
I look across the street. I can see the bookstore. It’s right there. I think about kicking my way through the wall, making a sprint across the street. All before the marching band closing in comes stomping into view. Because after that I'm sunk. The flood gates will be open. And the entirety of the county's Christmas spirit will be let loose like a foul bowel movement from the asshole of a very old drunk. I decide against it.
OUTLAW LOVE
I can listen to “Thirteen” by Big Star and pretend
I am thirteen back in my flamingo
bedroom and a boy
would come to my
