“My cup runneth over.” – David
Many who love Leonard Cohen and his most famous song, “Hallelujah,” are not aware that the song is a STORY SONG about the biblical character of David.
David is a religious figure for billions of people on the planet; he is, for sure, a historical figure; and he’s considered in this essay as a literary character, mostly.
Continue reading “Sunday Whatever: The Faith So Great by Dale Barrigar”
I will open with a stupid “duh” remark: Lots of things have changed in writing in the past fifty years. I’ve been at it that long, but the first ten I was a songwriter. That began with dreamy eyed teen minor chord ditties about things I knew nothing about and eventually devolved into writing drunken snatches of genius (i.e. drunk shite, as they say in Scotland) on anything that would take a pen (I hate pencils, they feel like dirt and their smell makes me sneeze). Then, later, when not too shitty they were matched to a number of beats and a chord pattern. I have probably written two hundred songs in my life and not one of them exists on one sheet of paper. Some were recorded on a demo that someone somewhere probably recorded over a long time ago.
Continue reading “Week 605: Never too Late, Hitler Found Love at 56”
The match is in full flow, 22 teenagers running around the frozen pitch, a few desperate to get the ball and some desperately hiding from it. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, we are 2-0 down after ten minutes. I’m not arsed about the score, though. It’s the ten minutes thing that’s doing my head in. 80 more bastard minutes of him. In actual fact, the match will be stopped and an ambulance frantically called before halftime, but who’s to know at this point?
Continue reading “Kicking It by James Blindell”
There is something about the feel of a coin. It’s that cool heavy feeling. I had a year’s worth of Alcoholics Anonymous coins in my pocket, and I jingled them as I walked down this country road.
The concrete road was cracked and unmarked, and the sky was darkening. A few hundred meters ahead stood what looked like an old-timey photo booth.
Continue reading “Insert Coin by Ari Derin”
In the dim twilight of Charlie’s bar an old man sat at the counter muttering about the weather. Outside, night winds blew up from the sea, salving the day’s heat still rising from baked pavements. It was too hot the old man said, it was too dry; his bones ached, his bowels didn’t move; John, the barman nodded, wiping glasses with a small towel. The barking laughs of other regulars, the clinking of the pool table, the air conditioner’s hum and Bob Montgomery’s measured voice on the TV lamenting another Red Sox loss mixed with the old man’s mutters.
Continue reading “The Attic Room by Cris Aboobaker”
Jenny stood at the dingy laundromat’s bulletin board. She wore a bright red Indiana University shirt and jeans. The crude flyer showed five or six stick figures holding hands in a circle. Two suspiciously looked like they had a penis or almost three legs. She smiled and thought, Maybe that’s what I want to see. They danced in bright green crayon slashes of grass in some pagan ritual around a blue gazing-ball. The smiley-face sun, shining from the top right corner, looked sneaky and somehow hateful. Like it was holding its middle sun-finger up just off the page. Black words cut across the lightly shaded blue sky. FORTUNES READ by Sue at Backwaters Salon $50. No Refunds.
Continue reading “The Backwaters by Christopher J. Ananias”
In our city, the floodgates are kept shut by a machine powered on human breath. We call it the regulator. It listens to the lungs the same way a metronome listens to music. If rhythm breaks, the gates slip. Then the river takes everything.
Continue reading “They Say It’s Wonderful by Prin Sairungsri”
Before I forget, I’ll answer the riddle that I set on Week 602.
What completes the list?
sore
keel
cosh mark
???
The first three are anagrams of the National Symbols of England (Rose), Wales (Leek), Ireland (Shamrock)
So the fourth has to be:
The list
That is an anagram for Scotland’s (Thistle)
I was being a bit unfair as there was a distinct advantage from this side of the pond!
Continue reading “Week 604 – Inhaling Soot,I’ll Walk Next Time And Rob And Kevin.”
I wake up face-down on cold vinyl tile, my sweaty cheek glued to the gray-specked floor. My mouth tastes like someone juiced a cigarette, poured it into a rotten durian, and forced it all down my throat. For a second, I think I’ve died in a stranger’s apartment. Then I see my crusty Jordan 1’s stuck on the ceiling fan.
Continue reading “Bangkok, If You’re Listening by Prin Sairungsri”
I don’t like to complain.
When you live in a neighborhood, side-by-side with other home owners, there’s a little give-and-take that has to go on. On one side of us there’s the Cummings. The Cummings are in their fifties and almost every Sunday they have a little family barbecue, their two sons and their families come over and the kids, they’re still kids, and they make a little noise but Fred Cummings is a good guy and I don’t mind the smoke from his grill because what he’s cooking usually smells good. By seven o’clock, they’re long gone.
Continue reading “I Don’t Like to Complain by Russell Dupont”
