The main reason for me to be here is to write. I'm not a photographer so I won't be posting photos and I'm not just running around staring at all the women, although it's a nice bonus. Kinda my ambition to write all over the place and I plan on taking on the news here as well as updating whenever I get published somewhere else. I edit for Cyanide Literary Magazine and so I'm looking to branch and do more writing, but I'll most likely be posting when the mag updates. I'll probably throw down novel excerpts and short stories that I'm touching up and sending out for submission here. Plus other fun. Let's hope I get into this as much as I plan to. Now I leave you with something literary [obviously it's still in editting phases].
Shooting stars from heaven
Dirt curls around the car in the wind, dancing like it did for Dorothy before she left Kansas. Funnels dip from the clouds toward the ground and deposit cows, trucks, tractors, and houses with the randomness of God. We pass a raped barn. We pass a scarecrow doubled over jerking off. We pass a cow sodomized by a fencepost. My stomach fills with lead and holds me down with its weight. I can't swallow and the reality sinks in. Sean swallows hard, a gulp I hear over the roaring cloud-lions that threaten to lift the state of Texas and deposit it near Alaska for fun. The sky droops along beside us, blending with the ground, as the storm flings dirt at it like the little kid at the end of the street who would pick on you when you were younger. The radio can't pick up the strong frequencies of major city stations that deliver news to people throughout Texas during similar times of crisis. Sean curls his lower lip in and bites it, red particles trickling out.
How are we going to load it? Fear strangled in his throat.
Drew glances over at Sean, quickly sizing up the integrity of the question, his voice calm, hiding his inner turmoil.
What are you talking about, Sean?
Sean bites his thumb nail and stares at Drew, judging whether he should even respond, since it would be futile if the tornado tore through the car and ripped them all limb from limb.
Well, this thing we're getting is a vending machine, right? How are we going to fit it in this car, the car is too small.
Drew sighs and thumbs to where I sit, his eyes never averting from the road.
You explain it to him, I'm trying to drive.
I squirm in the backseat as the responsibility crawling up my spine like a draft or a ghost, making me shiver. I feel like Drew just asked me to hold up the world while he adjusted the pads on his shoulders, so the weight wouldn't hurt his shoulders too much.
Where do you want me to start?
Drew runs his hand through his hair and grunts.
I don't care, just explain it to him. Driving through this storm isn't easy shit.
Sean shifts in his seat and looks back at me like the children in those pictures from war-torn countries, the ones that know a soldier is about to shoot them, but still they hope and plead. Drew swerves around a water buffalo God threw at us, pissed.
Remember how Drew and I told you we saw something weird coming back from the gig up in Denver, and we would have to show it to you?
Sean fumbles through his fear and memory, grabs his balls to keep from pissing himself, and rolls his eyes back in thought. He nods his head and whispers, Nazareth.
I watch him, but keeping going.
Right, in Nazareth. We stopped at an abandoned gas station to see if there was a chance of getting gas and directions since someone took a wrong turn, Drew eyes me in the rearview mirror, but says nothing, but we found something else instead.
Sean starts rocking and Drew takes his eye off the road for a second to watch him.
You need to pee?
Sean nods again, but says nothing because he knows we can't stop, not in this weather. I continue.
Well, instead of gas, we found a vending machine that sells shooting stars.
His face knots up in concentration and I find him a bottle to piss in. Drew would kill him three times over, before the storm had a chance, if Sean pissed in his car.
Remember the Jiminy Cricket song, When You Wish Upon a Star?
Sean has turned around and curled up against the door and window so no one can see him pull his small dick out and piss in the bottle. Drew doesn't stop watching the road even though he can't see more than ten feet in front of the car. A smirk spreads across his lips in the rearview mirror.
What are you hiding over there, Sean-boy?
As he says it, he reaches over and touches Sean on the shoulder. Sean turns his head and swats at Drew. Every drop of blood in Sean's body must be in his face, because he looks like someone tied a tourniquet around his neck, trapping all the blood above his shoulders.
Leave me alone or you'll make me piss all over your car.
Drew's joy flees and his face drops to the gray color of the sky outside.
You piss in my car, you'll be telling me what your testicles taste like.
A sign flies over the roof of the car as they fight. Sean tries to piss the whole time and comes close to flipping over, spilling his bottle of piss on himself and exposing the small dick he's ashamed of. He twitches like a nervous bird trapped in a burning cage with no way out. We all should the way the storm hits the car and rocks it. Drew insists on concentrating, even though he has no control over the car, since the wind pushes it in whatever direction it feels like. We're like a couple chickens being herded back into our coop, each of us pecking at the other. Feathers fly everywhere as they rattle the cage and I sit back wondering where Kansas is now.
A chicken hits Sean's window and explodes, the glass spraying into the car. He throws up his hands to protect his face and struggles against the seatbelt to climb into the backseat. Another chicken hits the window behind him. He drops his hands to unlatch the seatbelt and crawls into the back, hiding under the seat. Drew curses as feathers from the second chicken flaps around his head like little effigies waiting to burn. He swats at them and screams, but I can't hear him over the roaring cloud-lions. Then it hits us, the vending machine with the shooting stars inside. A head-on collision. The front of the car buckles and curls in. Glass pierces Drew's open mouth and Sean wraps around the passenger seat, flipping over it. I feel light as chicken feathers and shooting stars. The seatbelt cuts into my shoulder. Time stops.
I look at Drew and his bloody face, his eyes covered with glass shards. He'll have to walk with sunglasses forever. Sean's back bends over the headrest, feet touching the front seat, hands holding onto the back. Then his back cracks, louder than a cannon blast from two feet away. He opens his mouth, but can't scream. A sign post flies through the window in front of my face. I kiss it before it knocks Sean through the window. Drew raises his hand in the air to reach for him in protest, but a bolt in the sign clips his finger and it goes with Sean, a souvenir Sean can carry through the gates of Purgatory.
When Dorothy landed, she landed in another time, another world, and she could wake up from her fever-induced dream with all of her friends sitting around her bed. We'll never see Sean again. All, because we wanted to wish upon a star we bought in a vending machine. A cheap whore of a wish.
Fuck Drew, was it worth it? Sean's gone.
He can't hear me and screams. I raise my bloody hands holding steam and I realize Sean's not the only one who left us.
Shooting stars from heaven
Dirt curls around the car in the wind, dancing like it did for Dorothy before she left Kansas. Funnels dip from the clouds toward the ground and deposit cows, trucks, tractors, and houses with the randomness of God. We pass a raped barn. We pass a scarecrow doubled over jerking off. We pass a cow sodomized by a fencepost. My stomach fills with lead and holds me down with its weight. I can't swallow and the reality sinks in. Sean swallows hard, a gulp I hear over the roaring cloud-lions that threaten to lift the state of Texas and deposit it near Alaska for fun. The sky droops along beside us, blending with the ground, as the storm flings dirt at it like the little kid at the end of the street who would pick on you when you were younger. The radio can't pick up the strong frequencies of major city stations that deliver news to people throughout Texas during similar times of crisis. Sean curls his lower lip in and bites it, red particles trickling out.
How are we going to load it? Fear strangled in his throat.
Drew glances over at Sean, quickly sizing up the integrity of the question, his voice calm, hiding his inner turmoil.
What are you talking about, Sean?
Sean bites his thumb nail and stares at Drew, judging whether he should even respond, since it would be futile if the tornado tore through the car and ripped them all limb from limb.
Well, this thing we're getting is a vending machine, right? How are we going to fit it in this car, the car is too small.
Drew sighs and thumbs to where I sit, his eyes never averting from the road.
You explain it to him, I'm trying to drive.
I squirm in the backseat as the responsibility crawling up my spine like a draft or a ghost, making me shiver. I feel like Drew just asked me to hold up the world while he adjusted the pads on his shoulders, so the weight wouldn't hurt his shoulders too much.
Where do you want me to start?
Drew runs his hand through his hair and grunts.
I don't care, just explain it to him. Driving through this storm isn't easy shit.
Sean shifts in his seat and looks back at me like the children in those pictures from war-torn countries, the ones that know a soldier is about to shoot them, but still they hope and plead. Drew swerves around a water buffalo God threw at us, pissed.
Remember how Drew and I told you we saw something weird coming back from the gig up in Denver, and we would have to show it to you?
Sean fumbles through his fear and memory, grabs his balls to keep from pissing himself, and rolls his eyes back in thought. He nods his head and whispers, Nazareth.
I watch him, but keeping going.
Right, in Nazareth. We stopped at an abandoned gas station to see if there was a chance of getting gas and directions since someone took a wrong turn, Drew eyes me in the rearview mirror, but says nothing, but we found something else instead.
Sean starts rocking and Drew takes his eye off the road for a second to watch him.
You need to pee?
Sean nods again, but says nothing because he knows we can't stop, not in this weather. I continue.
Well, instead of gas, we found a vending machine that sells shooting stars.
His face knots up in concentration and I find him a bottle to piss in. Drew would kill him three times over, before the storm had a chance, if Sean pissed in his car.
Remember the Jiminy Cricket song, When You Wish Upon a Star?
Sean has turned around and curled up against the door and window so no one can see him pull his small dick out and piss in the bottle. Drew doesn't stop watching the road even though he can't see more than ten feet in front of the car. A smirk spreads across his lips in the rearview mirror.
What are you hiding over there, Sean-boy?
As he says it, he reaches over and touches Sean on the shoulder. Sean turns his head and swats at Drew. Every drop of blood in Sean's body must be in his face, because he looks like someone tied a tourniquet around his neck, trapping all the blood above his shoulders.
Leave me alone or you'll make me piss all over your car.
Drew's joy flees and his face drops to the gray color of the sky outside.
You piss in my car, you'll be telling me what your testicles taste like.
A sign flies over the roof of the car as they fight. Sean tries to piss the whole time and comes close to flipping over, spilling his bottle of piss on himself and exposing the small dick he's ashamed of. He twitches like a nervous bird trapped in a burning cage with no way out. We all should the way the storm hits the car and rocks it. Drew insists on concentrating, even though he has no control over the car, since the wind pushes it in whatever direction it feels like. We're like a couple chickens being herded back into our coop, each of us pecking at the other. Feathers fly everywhere as they rattle the cage and I sit back wondering where Kansas is now.
A chicken hits Sean's window and explodes, the glass spraying into the car. He throws up his hands to protect his face and struggles against the seatbelt to climb into the backseat. Another chicken hits the window behind him. He drops his hands to unlatch the seatbelt and crawls into the back, hiding under the seat. Drew curses as feathers from the second chicken flaps around his head like little effigies waiting to burn. He swats at them and screams, but I can't hear him over the roaring cloud-lions. Then it hits us, the vending machine with the shooting stars inside. A head-on collision. The front of the car buckles and curls in. Glass pierces Drew's open mouth and Sean wraps around the passenger seat, flipping over it. I feel light as chicken feathers and shooting stars. The seatbelt cuts into my shoulder. Time stops.
I look at Drew and his bloody face, his eyes covered with glass shards. He'll have to walk with sunglasses forever. Sean's back bends over the headrest, feet touching the front seat, hands holding onto the back. Then his back cracks, louder than a cannon blast from two feet away. He opens his mouth, but can't scream. A sign post flies through the window in front of my face. I kiss it before it knocks Sean through the window. Drew raises his hand in the air to reach for him in protest, but a bolt in the sign clips his finger and it goes with Sean, a souvenir Sean can carry through the gates of Purgatory.
When Dorothy landed, she landed in another time, another world, and she could wake up from her fever-induced dream with all of her friends sitting around her bed. We'll never see Sean again. All, because we wanted to wish upon a star we bought in a vending machine. A cheap whore of a wish.
Fuck Drew, was it worth it? Sean's gone.
He can't hear me and screams. I raise my bloody hands holding steam and I realize Sean's not the only one who left us.
legionnaire:
Thanks for the newswire stories. I ran the one on the Ukrainian election but we had one yesterday about the marijuana case so I didn't use that one. Just wanted to let you know.