Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

forgotten

Sunday, February 22nd, 2009

Under a black ice sky, a residentially challenged elderly man stumbles across a frozen lake and into an abandoned fishing shelter. He sits and stares and wonders why the writer never writes.

On a porch overlooking the lake, a dreamer fantasizes about a sultry chipotle waitress with onyx hair constrained in a ponytail spilling halfway down her back.

At a pizza joint deep in the middle of Georgia two waitresses converse.

“Did you get that call?”

“No, I don’t know how to answer the phone.”

where the workers have no factories

Friday, February 13th, 2009

An apparently homeless old man rests in the doorway of a dingy stone unclearly vacant commercial building in the early morning. Across the street from him is a monolithic block of faded and half heartedly maintained row houses. Every now and again one of the homes is boarded up, a hint of despair amongst the sad repetition of the facades. A ray of dawn sunshine flashes through the somber clouds and dances briefly along the houses. The man takes a long pull from a stainless steel flask concealed in his jacket and goes back to contemplating possible pasts.

A pilgrim happens upon a cerulean pool. He kneels and watches reflections cross the water.

A young man stares at a photograph at one of the numerous exhibits in Atlanta’s gallery district. While the image is of a striking female figure, his gaze appears focused on ambiguous shapes of infinite probabilities in the background.

Two men in a late model nondescript car of indeterminate origin, possibly of foreign manufacture, are driving along a rural four lane divided highway. Trees flash by and the occasional marker of generica, such as an Exxon Station or McDonalds, jumps up out of the landscape and rapidly shrinks in the rearview. On occasion, the passenger jots something in red pen on a notepad. The men are talking.

“All that fake tan shit pisses me off. What I really dig is alabaster skin untouched by the sun. That drives me wild.”

“A blonde eyed black is what I like.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

merry christmas, internet

Thursday, December 25th, 2008

In the days of way back, before the Goo Goo Dolls wrote Name and figured out they could cash more checks and get more chicks by being pansies and every fucking rock and roll radio station in the country did not include either edge or x in their name, Robby Takac dj’d a little show called Modern Rock on the Fox. One of the downright excellent bands Mr. Takac introduced me to through his show was the Pogues. Enjoy, and to all five of you, thanks for reading.