Monthly Archives: November 2017

When we kill the rich and their fat asses and gold suspenders are holding up the wall and we are readying them for the firing squad please remember that I was one of you all along. I was the proletariat. … Continue reading →

If you find that your stock has grown low and you no longer have enough to provide to your customers there is no shame in admitting this. If you don’t have anything that will satisfy the line around the block … Continue reading →

She sang a song about Anchorage but it wasn’t “Anchorage,” by Michelle Shocked so what’s the point? It was pleasant enough, a good melody a good voice but it wasn’t life changing. It wasn’t apocryphal. It wasn’t a song that … Continue reading →

Look, Optimum, it’s great – really kind – that you thought I’d enjoy faster internet and decided to provide it to me (though, I gotta say, I never realized it. You never told me and I never experienced any pickup … Continue reading →

He’s texting one of his many lovers when he should be drinking with me. “We should be drinking!” I shout, and he puts down his phone and looks me over. “You serious?” He asks. I nod. “Then let’s drink!” When … Continue reading →

We are all going to die and everyone we know is going to die and all the things we create and leave behind will also, in time, wither and die she said and I nodded because it was true. We’re … Continue reading →

Fuck you, Grandma and your goddamned trees which are shaped any number of ways and just straight up like you claimed down in Carolina that one time. I cannot believe this is still a sticking point all these years later … Continue reading →

Natalie dressed and opened the curtains, letting the sun shine in. Without moving, she looked out onto the day and said, “we can’t keep doing this.” I knew I couldn’t and said so. “I don’t think I have the stamina.” … Continue reading →

The painting at the diner shines. The Northward view of Times Square seems recent at first glance. The glint on the cars, the sparkling lights, the Broadway shows, the bright ads… it all smacks of the modernist of days until … Continue reading →

Fuck you, Arby’s. I’m trying to get to your cashier, to get at the meats, but your fucking store closed its fucking doors fifteen minutes before closing time because unlike the rest of America, you don’t seem to believe in … Continue reading →