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 …

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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 …

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Jumping Fences

The direction of the evening had already been predetermined by the time the late fall darkness fell down around the day, enveloping this City of Wayne in November shadows, despite the brightness of a waning moon above. The stresses of an uncalled election and social feeds full of divisive disinformation had already polluted the day.  Texts, spanning three countries on two continents blinged and blooped on my phone, forcing me to focus in order to keep track of the conversations for fear of somehow sending a ridiculously inappropriate response to the wrong recipient.  And that shit gets exhausting. I needed space to think and an unguarded moment to just process the seemingly overwhelming avalanche of churning change and possibility.  I needed perspective and quiet solitude to …

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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. …

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Leather and Lace

From deep within the confusion of a misunderstood isolation sprang an unexpected oasis of clarity, a glimmer of a future forged in the furnace of a friendship born in the before time.  The time before this suffocating quarantine blanketed a budding reconnection.  The time before a sea of masquerading strangers somehow became the responsible norm, parading by in socially distanced regularity to redefine the paradigm of this novel inconvenience. She asked unexpectedly; I answered without reservation.  In the briefest blink of an overdue text finally sent, the hope of possibility landed hard in the midst of another strange week, here in this unpredictably disordered City of Wayne. It was a week full of unexpectedly cascading change.  It was a thirty hour window filled with flirting and …

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