October 31, 2010
I’ve only had two earaches ever. I don’t remember the first—I was eight months old—and at nineteen I feel much too old to have this one. After all, infants get earaches; adults get Hepatitis. I shouldn’t complain—I’m not losing my toes to frostbite—but my eardrum’s throbbing, and every pass of blood feels like Keith Moon’s [...]
Check out the rest →
December 16, 2009
Fall: No talking. Poured scotch on the headstone. He drank brandy. Winter: Told him about Theresa. Stayed for an hour or two. Spring: Picked up some trash–a plastic bag and a chicken bone. Put them both in my pocket. Summer: Read some Yeats out loud. A train horn spoiled the moment. Fall: No talking. Poured [...]
Check out the rest →
