December 2009
3 posts
horse latitudes
“Why is it that whenever I feel bad, a song always comes to the rescue?” - Richard Bolisay, writer
The songs we can’t kill - - - how many you got? I got heaps. Know this, though, I nurse little nostalgia for the Stones. They were the raconteurs of some other generation many times removed. Dadrock, except Dad never could stand rock and roll. I felt more kindred with Husker Du,...
sentimental hygiene
It was the dead of night and outside the van window was a world soaked in squid ink,pelted by black rain. Deep coma is what bodies crave at this hour. Deep coma is what my gorilla carcass should be craving. A low hum of light sleep is as far as I got. I know why. Not the beer basting my brain, not really, but that helps. No,there it was, that familiar prickle of anticipation that goes through me,...
maps
It was one of the happiest days of my life as much as it was, at first,one of the worst.
Rain at the start of it. Even more rain at the end. I was a man on a mission with a ticket to ride for half a world away. Feigning nonchalance with bubblegum. Butterflies in the stomach. Seeing about a girl. Mixtape stuck to my ear like valium. Comfortably numb on the long bus ride to the country and on the...