It has been determined that some of us require help

We think the neighbors are into porn. Watching it, making it, getting paid for it, something. They aren’t roofers, that’s for sure. They had the van repainted for roofing, as if they’d legitimately revamped their business. And they tried to recruit us as roofers, in a multi-level marketing kind of way. But they aren’t into…

Letting Go of Ghosts

She lived with us in that old house I grew up in, I know that now. She seemed to come and go, though I never saw her. And when we went, when we moved out after all those years and headed up north, I heard her silently pleading, screaming don’t go. I froze, alone in…

And my car smells of death

The businessmen rise early, dress smartly in tight pants and fleece vests. They map out their day, plan phone calls, taking care to sequence them properly. Many calls depend on prior ones, the results of previous conversations. Who reports to whom, who must know what by what time. Follow ups and proactive reachings-out. Partnerships and…

I dreamed about killing you again last night

I dreamed about Kate last night. We sat behind her, me and the family, my wife and our girls, in Poland, in an auditorium, no leg room between our hard wooden seats and the ones in front, one of which was hers, Kate’s. As the massive crowd let out, outside, the girls ran ahead, as…

Let’s see who falls in love

Milena was my partner for the ice breaker. I was fine with Milena, but I had my eyes on Agnieska, or Kate. We had to share our most memorable experience as teachers. The one where we deeply touched a student, I guess. I guess the point was to get us in the mood for touching…

From deep in the forest

In Japan, there is a place called the Suicide Forest. It is well-known. Many people go there to… well, there’s no need to describe what they do there. But there are photographs of tattered necktie remnants hanging from tree branches. Bones below them half-covered with earth and vines. For example. In the 1990s, a style…

Creative Watermelon

The game of Creative Watermelon is not a complicated one. It’s simply a matter of lying on your back on your father’s bed and staring up at the popcorn ceiling to see what kinds of shapes you find up there. It’s a lot like looking up at the clouds in the sky, only the ceiling…

The Bad Thought

Yeah, do you come up with your own thoughts? I think so. Do you? Cause I had a thought the other day that wasn’t mine. What was it? F@#k God. Oh my. Yeah. That’s — that’s awful. Yeah. But it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t your thought? No. I didn’t think it. Who did? What do…

Rachel doesn’t

Rachel is going to call tonight. This is a big deal. I will have to be on my game. There must be charm, exuberance, a certain joie de vivre, as the French say. I don’t know what this means, I’ve just heard they say it, and it sounds good in my head. Something to shoot…

Hope calls

Friday Night The phone rings. I hate it when it does that. I answer anyway. “Walt?” “Yes.” “Hi. Umm…” I blink. Wait. “I just wanted to call. My name’s Hope.” I’m sitting on my bed, facing the window. I check the clock on my nightstand, wonder where my ride is. We’re going to be late. “Okay…”…

The underlying theme

In the film version, this scene starts with a close shot of a white ball on a green tee, a one-wood whooshing and clinking solidly, a ball soaring off towards the green. In this version, the real one, the club head comes in too high, conks the top of the ball, ball dribbles thirty yards…

The guy who played the skipper

The glossy pictures in Hit Parader magazine show the drummer using black-and-white-striped drumsticks, and Kevin DuBrow’s mic stand is striped black-and-white too.  The white pvc pipe of the first nunchucks look a little plain next to the new ones made of whittled wood. There’s black electrical tape in the garage. I wrap it around the pipe…