And More Words

adding to the conversation

Category: Fiction

Quipt, Except

sometimes for no reason I feel so lucky to be alive

and I stared at them for maybe a few stops too long I think they think I’m creepy

if i’m falling, did I choose somewhere to jump?

maybe it was never behind you to begin with the sense of febrile completion.

distance and haze, all things fade mirages like those invisible puddles of water above a hot highway

you see one thing then bam! you don’t, nothing left but the cool ache suspicion that maybe it wasn’t better.

Car, truck, truck, bike, truck, car, me. One road, one way to get any number of final spots. That my here and yours...

This American Life (Don't Be Afraid)

In this America, but not my America, life is not a precious resource. In this America, getting sick does not only punish the body with pain, but absorbs and claims your future, subsumed to debt payments. A new lifetime–if you are unlucky–of deductibles, calls from collections, and a deeper and deeper hole. You wonder if you, and the loved ones also stuck with this bill, wouldn’t just be better off dead.

In this America, but not my America, all that matters is money to be made. More than the lives of our fellows. More than the lives of our children. There is paper over ears, hundred-dollar bil...

Movement Without Motion

The author walking at Le Grande Falles in Normandie, FranceThe author walking at Le Petites Dalles Normandie, France

 

This can describe many things:

Blacking out: drunk, you went to the club, you danced and maybe you fucked somebody but without the memory, it’s a

scene change in a film, the cut-to-black of a softcore porno, the grisly murder or car crash that we can only imagine because it’s

off camera, like the service and maintenance labourers at high-powered dinner functions or state events, armies of the unrecognised on whose backs ride the faces of the easily identified are carried

sleeping on trains, in cars, past the aggressively monotonous sc...