Category: Uncategorized
-
Saturday Evening Register of Actions
One (1) dive bar with one (1) cute bartender telling me he tried my regular drink at a separate bar, separate night. I must be four (4) drinks deep. The bar has been slow, frigid, and I sabotage myself with stolen glances and sips of drink. I’m one of the real ones, a true regular,…
-
Tuesday Evening Register of Actions
In the absence of a couch and in the presence of a hamster—one (1) witness to such—Gustavo, Russian Dwarf, aged “old enough to do this goddamn thing”—I enter into the record of this new apartment a few words—perhaps an idealistic pessimism I feel when faced with the idea of home. I tie myself to this…
-
On Loneliness
“Because there’s something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone” – Kris Kristofferson, Sunday Morning Coming Down, 1970 Home can be lonely. In the middle of a reunion, a birthday party, or Christmas—doesn’t matter—home can make you want a drink and to crawl into a dark hole. Once a black sheep, always the…
-
Strike Three
An orange moon rises above the desert in the early dawn and the oil man curses the ground he has worked so hard to develop. It is the fate of the first man, or so he used to believe. At times he wakes up and he loves the desert– he drank too much the night…
-
Love Sick
I was born a Valentine’s baby, only the day before, and I have always felt as if narrowly missing the day has had some effect on my romantic endeavors. Is the way the stars aligned why I feel so detached in my relationships, why I avoid them entirely, or why I love in great spurts…
-
Time
I stopped looking at life as how it could be, but as it was. I stopped to wonder why I had started to write my diary in past tense. Time seemed to me less of an upwards lateral and more of a circle. I sometimes thought I could tell the future. Or maybe that was…