65 million years ago a meteor six miles wide crashed into the Earth. The residents blamed Obama and said that the meteor was part of a conspiracy to support his new world order. Choking on ash and poison gas, most of them died shortly thereafter thus turning the last page of the Mesozoic Era.
(more…)Tag: writing
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Unconfirmed Miracles
In the end, we believe what we want to believe.
It’s always bothered me when people tell the story of how the lost car keys saved their life. You know, the one that goes like this: “I spent an extra 15 minutes searching for my keys this morning and I was so mad because I was going to be late for work. But then, while driving, I passed a huge accident. An escape convict in a stolen car ran the light and the other driver was blasted to smithereens. I am so blessed because God saved me from being in that accident and it was a miracle.”
Is that a fact? I always want to ask if it’s a fact but it seems rude to question other people’s miracles.
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A Time To Create
“We’ll not be given time to create, we be asked to create in real time.”
Two years ago, I fled to the Sky Island Mountains to seek shelter from the turmoil and recharge my soul under the blazing sky.
In retrospect, that is why all of us were there. Why so many would travel from so far to meet on the mountain in the name of finding the flow?
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Zero Fucks Given: The End of Brangelina
Facebook has a major case of the poo-butt. Everyone is heartbroken over the demise of Brangelina.
It’s the end of an era, like when the dinosaurs died out and you could no longer buy cars with 8-track players in the dash.
I wonder if they can return all those children? Probably not, but maybe if they still have the receipts. I mean, it couldn’t hurt to ask. Right?
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Alternate Outcomes
It’s strange how the simple things in life go on while we become more difficult.
-Richard Brautigan
I heard the news today.
He died of cancer.
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In The Way
Earlier today I found this piece in my Google Drive. I had saved it there on August 8th, 2014.
I was recently divorced but somehow already involved in a toxic relationship, living alone for the first time ever (at the ripe old age of 38), drowning in oceans of paper and unpleasant memories.
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Above The Clouds
Here at 30,000 feet the weather is below and the sun is above; hot, bright, burning her face and unchanging.
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I’m not even speaking English now, she thinks in vague images.
She’s sleep deprived and hungry but sees the edge of happiness on the horizon. -
Watching The Flowers Sway
Prologue: The following is not fiction but it didn’t happen to me. Rather, it is the result of my one and only successful attempt at communicating with the dead. I believe this account to be true and accurate. As always, names have been changed but, in this case, it’s to protect the privacy of the innocent.
Watching The Flowers Sway
I was watching the flowers sway, staring at the sky through a screen of yellow petals. Clouds float by and birds soundlessly peck seeds from the round center of the flower faces. Butterflies alight on my hands. I don’t feel them but their wings are luminous. There is no time here. The jingle of keys breaks the silence.
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Missing: The King Of Porn
I have an obsession and it’s growing like a tumor. It all started with one little thought: I wonder whatever became of the self proclaimed King Of Porn, Samuel Crimson? Upon consulting the Googles I learned that he directed forty films in seven years and then vanished from the Earth four years ago. When I say vanished, that’s what I mean, not dead; there would be news stories of his demise but vanished and no one seems to care. Well now, if there’s a finger guaranteed to fondle my obsession trigger it’s not being able to find out something I want to know. What started as an innocent question is rapidly becoming a compulsive preoccupation. Like digging for lost keys in that duffel bag of a purse I carry around, I will turn this world upside down and shake it until I find what I’m looking for.
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No Rest For The Wicked 