Posts

Cows

-
  For all the cows on highway signs I didn’t see a single cow, just tumble weeds and a type of meadow sparrow that swooped dangerously close to my car. The grasses were golden in the sunshine and the mountains blue in the distance. For the first hour I drove I saw only two other cars on the road, both headed into the opposite direction towards Nevada. I decided that morning to go to Zion opposed to the Mojave or Death Valley. If I did camp again I didn’t want to spend another night sleeping in below freezing temperatures.       I’d found fleece leggings at the goodwill in Utah but they’d become casualties in the great laundry freeze. Despite laying them out on my car before my hike yesterday, none of my clothes had dried. None of the clothes I had packed made any sense for this trip. I’d been experiencing considerable emotional distress. Further on I pass signs for wild horses, but the only one I see is a blood bay dead on the side of the road. I keep an eye out for ...
Post a Comment
Read more

failings

-
   I lay on the couch I shared with my roommate and stared into the textures on the ceiling. I wanted to move, but my body seemed to grasp the futility of any further action. It ignored my attempts to force it into productivity. Instead, I thought about this past year and all of my countless failings. I'd been so eager to begin my life at the University. I had thought I'd study hard, get a job, and make a meager living while earning my degree. Unlike my family, I would refuse to accept anonymity. I'd make something of myself, and more than that, I'd make money. But there are impossibilities in place to prevent plebeians like myself from wriggling their way upstream. I'd spent a year volleying being class work and actual work, carrying the stress of failing at either. I couldn't afford to make any mistakes, and as that pressure mounted I became cruel, frenzied, and robotic. I somehow managed - for an entire year - and made something called progress at the expense...
Post a Comment
Read more

garrett night, amended

-
   I'm circling the parking lot at a Trader Joe's when Damien calls me. I fumble with my bluetooth for a moment too long and a bitch in a white Toyota Corolla swoops in and snags a space out from under me. I unroll my window and give her a thumbs down. She opens her door and advises me to "Fuck off", which I do, and I'm not happy about it. "What?" I finally say to Damien. "Yooo?" "Can you hear me?" I raise my voice. I'm about to go park on a side street. I yank my steering wheel around and zip out of the lot. "Okay, so. We got some of the boys from the studio coming out to Wyatt's show tonight. It's the perfect time to do some networking." Wyatt Easton is the son of a couple of people who got very big into denim back in the nineties. He's got enough money to pay people to think he's talented. He usually just opens warehouse shows for bigger names, but lately he's been fancying himself a headliner. Thi...
Post a Comment
Read more

well, well

-
  Nick is standing behind the bar and laughing at me as I walk in. "Why -" I set my stuff down " - do you look like the cat that at the canary?" I love this saying because it sounds deranged coming out of the mouth of someone who isn't collecting social security. "Rough night last night?" Nick is always on the verge of laughter. He looks like a kid tasting ice cream for the first time. It'd be cute, except his delight is a derivative of my pain.  "Unbelievable," I say rubbing my eyes. Then I add a warning. "Don't start with me." He just chuckles because he knows I don't mean it. He's one of the few people that "gets it" here in LA. I'm going to grouse for a few minutes but I'm just playing it up for my own amusement. Besides, it's me and Nick working together - hungover or not, I’ll have a good shift.   I begin my opening side work: setting up chairs, getting condiments, filling pitchers of wate...
Post a Comment
Read more