Day 45: Play That Fiddle Music, Fool

The City of Wayne is burning tonight. I can feel the claustrophobic heat of the ever-encroaching flames, sitting here under the dying gasp of the twilight’s last gleam.  I can hear the chorused coughing cacophony of a city’s choreographed death rattle rattling.  I can smell the cloyingly unique stink of the pyre’s smoke blowing in through little windows originally opened in a last gasp attempt to finally breathe free.  Little did I know that it would only let in the muffled wheeze of distracted bad decisions, sharpening the precision focus on the desperately unmet desires of a single solitary guilty man. Many mutual mistakes were made that night, behind the masked bandit kiss of a pandemically inspired stolen embrace.  Harsh lessons were learned hours after, blowing …

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Day 43: Monday, Monday….

And so it is, yet another isolated rainy night spent solitary in the currently slumbering City of Wayne, sitting in front of my typewriter and an annoyingly accusatory stack of blank pages waiting impatiently for the company of impressed ink.  Another night and another block of endlessly empty overnight hours spent forsaking the expected tenants of more healthy hygienic concerns for the numbing, temporary promises provided by selfishly imbibing in the nightly ritual of my highly proofed constant companions.  Intentionally not setting the mood with either flickering candlelight, or waftingly aromatic incense curls, but rather settling for the pungent, earthy stink of a constant stream of tobacco burnt in sacrificial regularity to the rhythm of this state-imposed insanity closing in hard. Another night boxed in with …

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Day 40: Friday Night Lights

The weight of another locked down Friday night here in the city of Wayne comes creeping in pandemically, robbing me of the simple comforts of the life I once lived, back before this dangerously infectious invasion stole it all away.  Friday nights were always about time spent with friends, either passing away the hours in the rhythmic buying of rounds at the bar, or sometimes caught in the mediocre thumpings and halting feedback of some amateur band high up on the small stage, always singing and playing slightly out of tune. Not that anyone particularly cared, or even noticed, usually being too far consumed in their own weekend dramas unfolding either around the sticky confines of a luckily scored bar table, or through an ocean of …

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Day 38: She Was Touching Her Face

Much like the frequent postings here so unashamedly rambling in their nature, and so unfiltered in their intent, I can find neither rhyme no reason tonight, not when the weight of another segregated pandemically-fringed night bears down on a terminally lonely man sitting solitary in a little blue house in the heart of the city of Wayne. A man trying his masked best to keep his head above the infections and his heart free from the frequent fevers running hot and hard through the streets, shimmering and flickering tantalizingly outside the hazy reflections of a smoke-stained window closed tight against the threats of a dangerous locked-out world lurking just outside. The overnight started the same as they do now most days, with hastily scribbled notes captured …

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Day 36: Erin grá mo chrói

I happened to mention Ireland in my last post and that, coupled with the gentle prodding text of a dear friend, has me again thinking about that little island on the eastern edge of the Atlantic.  I have intentionally chosen to refrain from writing much about it in the past because I always had the nagging fear that my words, no matter how earnestly written or how cleverly edited, would never be able to reliably capture the experience of setting foot upon the stereotypically green soil of that ancient and often misunderstood land. But sitting here now, on the crumbling edge of what seemingly remains of our previous civilization, I realize that there really isn’t much left to lose.  So buckle up. The flight out of …

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