She looked at the cherry on the end of the joint. Over on the table, the record player was playing a Turtles album. The smoke hung in the air languidly, and she exhaled with a calm release. “Turn it up,” she asked in almost a whisper. I got up in my nudity and turned the …
I got these off a fig tree. Figs, off a fig tree? No shit, I’d have never guessed. Alright wiseass, can the shit, this isn’t just any fig tree. It’s a special fig tree. Special like its figs are poisonous? No. It’s a specific fig tree in Sri Lanka. Um Ok? Na hear me out. …
The smoke rose from my cigarette as I tried to move, unsuccessfully. Whatever was in those mushrooms was working, or wasn’t working depending on your perspective. I smiled at the thought, odd how success and failure is relative. I was sitting sideways in the chair, my body forming an ‘M’ with the armrests under my …
The piano sounded so lovely in the wafting into the air above the open air bar. The player was hitting the keys just soft enough, just syncopated enough to perfectly match the feeling of the scene. I always forget that a piano is a percussion instrument, it always felt separate, it’s own category. She felt …
“Right,” he said hands on his hips, legs in a power stance. “This is the last of this bullshit, this is the last of the shit I’m putting up with.” “Really…” I trailed off. “Yes. This has gone on long enough, I’ve drawn a line in the sand and this has gone over it. You …
“I guess since butterfly therapist isn’t actually a real job, I’ll have to keep being a graphic designer instead.” She said with a nervous laugh. “I guess it’s really second best, though maybe- I mean I guess I could be a butterfly scientist. But I was never all that good at science. I like the …
The fan oscillated slowly, as if in no hurry to cool the room. The humidity was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. I sat with a quickly warming beer trying to decide how best to beat the heat. I slowly glanced around the room, my head seeming to imitate the fan …
In the heart of history Beating thunderously in the cavern of my soul The grains of hope slipping through my fingers Grasping madly I cry out – From my placid abode my call echos To the cold the hungry the oppressed the imprisoned Together we watch the last rays of the sun Set beyond the …