GTFO

Beaming with all the hopes and desires of American youth, he set forth as a leader of sorts. Just what sorts, it is impossible to say at this time.


But he had the imaginary support he needed to venture beyond the small environment he'd come to know as his home town.


Friends thought him foolish and felt free to frequently tell him so. Deep down they all felt envy. Envious that he could muster, where they could not, the courage that was necessary to embark beyond the notion that survival was based upon the ability to rise at 7AM five days a week. - Les Claypool

It is too damn hot for a penguin to just be walkin' around.

Time to get out of here.

-Alex who hasn't smelled a wader fart in far too long.

Think Hard.

-Alex who knows it has been far too long since he served up some 'toon goodness.

I always knew that dude from Krull was a sicko.

cyclops bull shark... via chum.

beastialitor?

-Alex who will be trying to figure out how to work in a "do you want to see my one-eyed bull shark fetus?" at the bar tonight.

half empty

The splinters of ice in the whisky clinked lightly in the bottom of his glass as he stood in the dark and stared out the small dusty window to the front yard. Concrete, weeds and tan dirt stared back. The driveway needed to be swept.

A pealing-white van with a dent slowly clanked by as a few bits of refuse caught the breeze scratched their way across the carport. He took a sip from his glass and picked at a mosquito bite on his knuckle. He couldn’t remember the last time it rained and wondered where the little fuckers were breeding. A stack of old tires near a sprinkler, a neglected fountain, something, somewhere nearby, over the wall or across the alley. Standard blue collared yard shit- collected, stored, ignored by someone too thick to know that their trash was cultivating annoyance.  He poured the remaining contents of the tumbler into his mouth and scratched his knuckle against the seam of his pant leg.

He thought about how inefficiently he used dental floss and how blind people differentiate the denomination of paper money. He ran his eyes along the painted grain of the window trimming and wondered where the tree had been felled that produced it. He thought about the empty glass, the bottle on the counter, and having nothing to do at 1:45pm on a Thursday.

He felt the stretch of his shirt, the push of the ground and the condensation evaporating from his finger tips and for the briefest of moments felt the clarity of complete indifference.

He shifted his weight and heard something crinkle under his flipflop. He looked down, slowly bent and picked up the faded note and held it to the light:

Eggplant
olive oil
balsamic
garlic
basil
oregano
thyme
p chops
chipotle mar.

It was written in his hand but he didn’t remember the meal. He crumpled the list, tossed it at the trash can and missed.

He thought about his bucket of change; nickels, quarters, dimes and pennies - Maybe enough for a thousand miles of road if he rolled it himself. Eight hundred, if he dumped it in that green machine at Food City.

Go north, a small voice whispered in the cockles of his subconscious. It wasn't enough and he knew it. Not enough to get where he wanted to go.

The shards of ice tinked in the bottom of his empty glass.

He stared out the small dusty window to the front yard.

The driveway needed to be swept.

cattle tank

The deer ran, looking back towards the intruders wandering down the dirt road toward the small piddle of standing water that could not be found in any fishing book, on any blog, or even the Arizona Game and Fish website.

In the mid-summer fishing doldrums when the sun slaps you around and the bass down south refuse to look at anything popping around on the top sometimes you just have to take desperate measures and try not to step in cow shit or twist your ankle on the rough, dry used-to-be muddy banks of the place apparently known as Fagan Tank. I don't know how to feel about it. Probably a good place to dump a body, though.

lunker.

In the summertime

In the summertime the sun pushes on your face. Any expression quickly drips off your chin and away down the front of your shirt and by midday everyone wears a constant uuugh as their head lolls back and forth, eyes meandering behind half closed lids.

I watched the top half of a run-over cyclist crawl off the road screaming because the asphalt was melting his flesh.

I watched a flock of birds burst into flames and rain bubbly feathery char in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

I watched trees melt and air boil and glass drip from window frames and car doors.

I watched a lit match commit suicide because it couldn't take the heat.

Today, I walked around a lake, but didn't fish.

Today it was hot.

-Alex who thinks that 90° at 1:17am is stupid.