Quick reads, scenes, scenarios, riffs off the cuff, or perhaps even a rant if you’re lucky.
“How are you doing this morning?” asked the headphones on the other end of the line, presumably wrapped around a head that was still trying to wrap itself around a script. “Fine,” I replied. But I thought this: I’m in the ebb trying to flow. The moon must be waxing. …
Vintage Words from the Back RoomThis little slurry was dredged from the fiery and rum-soaked memoirs of an ombudsman with an ample expense account on the medical convention tour sometime around the turn of the century. I sat outside all night in the Special Dark writing by a Bacardi Light. …
When it was too late, “Freedom. It doesn’t exercise itself,” is what I wish I would have left on the counter with my tip, but the thought didn’t think itself until I was back in the truck where I could hear myself think. Dammit.
I hadn’t learned about them in school yet, numbers less than Zero, but by the time I learned to count to Ten I knew that, naturally, they were there holding the rest up. Zero wasn’t doing it all by himself. Or maybe he was. He was certainly capable. Unique as …
