At first there’s a wrenching crack And they bring you to with smelling salts. Your eyes refuse to focus so as not to see the horrors in that interrogation chamber. But you’re aware of them all the same. And they pull at the wires that they’ve implanted under your skin and you tell them anything. …
Continue reading “Notes from Soviet Dissident Ivan de Tourmaline Kabral”
“Here, he turns down the page and brushes sandy hair over well worn eyes. Two other people are definitely watching him. Oh, sure, they look like they’re only interested in his dryer, but that’s, after all, what they’re supposed to look like!” In the hollow echoing of a corrugated cylinder, spinning endlessly round and round, …
(a breakfast story) Several years ago I woke up, put some bread in the toaster and began reading the morning paper. I read about bombs in Afghanistan, El Salvador, Beirut and my home town of Los Angeles. I read about poisons in the water, in the air and in our bodies and I read about …
Just when you were finding out the chord changes to “Birdland.” Just when the orange meridian split the sky open like some great beetle spreading her wings to fly. You turn opalescent eyes up onto her glittering underplates and see there a crimson hourglass. Your life and others tumbles out of control in a formless …
Two smoke bombs, synchronized with his feat, explode to either side, belching pillars of thick mushroom smoke. Ric: The bag you’re in, the fear you fear. You’re a superhuman, subhuman freebase queer. Have a look into the morror, see the faces in your face. You’re a subdeb hero. You’re a see-through zero. You’re an ax-whacking, …
(Impersonating John F. Kennedy) Hello, I’m Big Pete. (canned applause). Because I am. (canned guffaws). Give me a feel, ladies and gentlemen. You give me a feeling and I want to share it. God’s heavy hand reaches earthwards and the deep and quiet waters rage upon the land. (canned chickens clucking. voice that shifts to …
A tendril wind licks the fuzz just behind your ear. It’s often like that. One light touch and the whole confusion begins anew. You learn to identify that first kiss. And when you feel it, like the end of April, you learn to expect the impossible. Like from behind the very next tree your lover, …
Since his death more than three months ago from loss of breath, interest in filmmaker Leonard Melvilleson has been at an all-time high. Melvilleson was, of course, the creator of such cinematic classics as Partially Fatal, Passport to Farce, and Faceless Passion. Indeed, so prolific was he that at the time of his passing his …
“I’ll never forget the time,” said Morgan, as he rolled up his sleeve to keep his cuffs from getting dirty, “the time that the Legendary White Dog took a bite our of his leg when they were filming Witness in South Philly in 1984.” “Who’s leg?” queried Amanda, as she bent to sift out of …
Continue reading “The Legendary White Dog Goes to Hollywood”
on Close Inspection “Nup. Don’ think she’s cracked, do you Bill?” “Well, N’ifya look here; right here along the edge…” ” — Ahh — ” “There she is.” “Shoot. I ran right past it.” “Anybody’d miss a little thang like that, Job.” “Mebbe. But what’d’a happened if that’d gone through?” “Not much, I think. Prolly …
