Dec 06

image

Sometimes a girl just needs a break. Between work and play and everything else it gets to be too much. Fred called to make a date. I would have gone, but he broke his neck. Everything just goes around and around—off and on, like a wheel. I don’t think anything will ever change. I guess that’s why I’m just sitting out here in the yard. Trying not to look at the fire hose. Not thinking about politics or Fred’s neck or anything else. Doing nothing. Just waiting.  

100 plays

Nov 18

image

Look into my eyes. Yes, that eye—deeper, deeper. My dear, you are fetching! There is no other word for it. You run me down. There is no one with whom I would rather share these moments. I can see you are feeling sleepy, queasy, uneasy, bored. But let’s enjoy this while it lasts. I’ve traveled awfully far and my eye is tired. Across eons of time. Your eyes, well, they are really something. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but may I? The dimple in your chin writhes and squirms. This was worth the wait. Worth the long slog through fake streets and egoless rooms, through the data centers and forests of hot mics.

90 plays

2
Nov 08

image

SOMETIMES SOMETHING SILLY HAPPENS. YOU’RE IN YOUR PLANE FLYING OVER THE JUNGLE, WHEN, BAM!, OUT OF NOWHERE, YOU GET ALL LIGHT HEADED. SHOULD YOU EJECT? OF COURSE! AND OFF YOU GO, DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE. DRIFTING DOWN OVER TAIPAI. OR IS IT OXNARD? HARD TO SAY. BUT DOES IT REALLY MATTER WHEN IT FEELS THIS GOOD? NAH. IT’S A NEW FEELING AND WE’RE ROLLING WITH IT. LIFE GOES ON. I’LL CALL YOU WHEN I LAND.

110 plays

Nov 08

image

Dear Mr. Stein,

The peach tree blooms but once a year. Never would I say this another soul, but I am like that. Ever becoming. Soon to arrive. Maybe soon we can stroll the aerial orchards, or should I say, groves? Your call. See you soon! Love, Mort

60 plays

Nov 08

image

Remember how the music was? Before the war? Not that war. The other one. The one we lost. The way the music made us feel. Like we were bristling everywhere. Like we were bursting. That bottomless caroming sound. How it bounced off the walls. How it hovered over us in place, careful as a hummingbird. We listened for the low twang, the hum, the high wavering. We called it drone pop. The whistling. The cool air. Out there in the high winds. Yeah, like that.

50 plays