wingssite

Not an Ode to Spring

It’s the hangman’s song of an unwanted winter’s first dance playing out across the face of another pale overnight.  Notes, heavy and hard, punch into my skull with predetermined regularity and there is much pleasure found in that particular pain.  But then, she never really did like the music, so I can only guess that she will probably disapprove of all of this, too. Not that the unique disparity of our discontent properly justifies anything- I simply have no proper excuse for myself so I will responsibly carry my share of that blame.  And given the turbulent nature of our histories so inconsistently intertwined, I honestly find genuine hilarity in that particular disconnect. But then, I have never been even moderately skilled at reaching out.  So …

Read More

Winter Stomp

There is often a sizable vacuum left behind in the absence of a steady influx of fresh ridiculousness rolling into my life to help fill the gaps of pandemically inspired boredom and I have discovered that some semblance of a temporary balance might be found within the gushing inrush of unexpected nostalgia, surging up from a hesitant place to help fill that incessant hunger to feel something.  And when the familiar and intimate transcontinental texting lifelines last night understandably petered out in the crushing end-grip of another day of exhausted adulting, I was left on my own to find a way of filling another isolated night’s empty hours. And we all know that never ends particularly well for me, here alone and unsupervised, caught in the …

Read More

Final Edits

It is going to be a long, lonely winter of edits. There are currently thousands and thousands of bitter words loitering embarrassingly around this forgotten and overlooked little blue house.  And they are all relying upon me for a polish.  Or a learned, insightful nudge into a more meaningful incarnation of themselves.  Or maybe even a brutally justified dismissal, if deemed to longer hold any value in the storyline unfolding. And it is a seemingly never-ending cycle of printing, scribbling, patching, and tweaking.  Over and over.  Night after night.  Marking time in the endless hours with only a red pen’s ink for company, indiscriminately mixing in a fair amount of alcohol, just to numb the underlying naked brutality of it all. It is a catastrophically flawed …

Read More

Stay Drunk, Ponyboy….

Another cold, empty winter is fast approaching- I feel it tonight in aging, creaking bones and I can smell it clearly on the winds blowing in hard from the west.  Memories of humid summer Indiana afternoons disintegrated under the blanket of an early darkness falling.  Thoughts of a hopeful spring rejuvenation, growing lush and green and virginal, are nothing but a distant mark in a rapidly crumbling recollection, bullied away by invasively invisible invaders all out on the hunt. And the final kill knows no season. Above me a limp, unimpressive skyline of an increasingly infected and judgemental City of Wayne tries unsuccessfully to hide itself behind the skeletons of trees blown bare from the incessant crawl of an isolated winter’s fatal touch.  Too many punctuating …

Read More

Nobody Told Me

Nobody told me there’d be days like these. Nobody told me about these strange days unraveling here in the City of Wayne, with an unpredictable ridiculousness lurking around every corner and behind every text message sent and received.  The conservative slant of a once familiar cityscape has slipped down into an emotionally charged minefield of perpetually morphing expectations and definitions, somehow always twisting into randomly unexpected moments mainly consisting of “what the fuck just happened?” There is a swirling palette of consequence and accountability running loose in these dirty city streets of Wayne, tainting and taunting, infecting and complicating the day to day of a nervous citizenry caught in the incessant forward pull of a new history taunting. It is change and chaos; fracture and doubt. …

Read More