Friday, June 24, 2016

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

I traded my best shit with Joey because I just didn't care anymore. And he was always hopping up and down, wanting to trade this for that. A clean bolt for a nickel. Five bucks for a peak at his dad's Playboys. He wanted to trade everything. And he was never generous, but I gave up - like when the undertow grabs you and you just gotta swim with it until you can angle back in. Only, with Joey, I planned on swimming period - never coming back in. Live the rest of my life with dolphins or something. Not a solid plan, but I was thinking funny because I knew Joey had notions. 

People said stuff about Joey, but I figured it was rumors for a long time. Then, I saw him lift a few magazines and some candy bars down to old man Thompson's store. And leave smiling with the old man hollering after him, "say hi to your folks for me, y'hear?" And he didn't even keep all the magazines. And he didn't say hi when we saw his folks. And those magazines? Some, he threw right in the trash out front where old man Thompson was sure to see them at the end of the day.

I couldn't see the sense in that. 


Things got worse as summer drew out into a long, fiery, white blaze. The air smelled like dust, and I was ready to get doing something. I told Joey as much and he came to my window one night with a baby raccoon. No idea where he got it. I didn't want to know. I saw his eyes. 

So, I told him I felt sick, 'cause I did. And the next day I traded him all my stuff. And a few days later, Dad sat us down for the announcement. And that was the first time I was glad that he lost a job and we'd be moving. 

I didn't even say goodbye. 

BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...

Friday, June 17, 2016

2 Minutes. (of silence) Go!

After the tragic events of last weekend, I was once again shocked at how quickly some people want things to go "back to normal." I am not that kind of person. I've felt sick all week. I usually enjoy #2minutesgo, but the idea of even doing it has been weighing on me this week. On the one hand, I don't want to do it, and it seems tacky (a word that my Grandmother used with devastating effectiveness - it seems cheap, insensitive, thoughtless). On the other, I think it is a great outlet for the crew, and I'm sorry to take that away for one week. If I might make a suggestion... Use your two minutes to think of the families of those killed. Think of the young folks that lost their lives. Think about how you can try to keep this from happening again. Maybe it's impossible. Maybe it's not. Hug someone you love. Just love, period. It's the only thing that can stop senseless hatred.

We will resume as usual next week.

Friday, June 10, 2016

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

It gets to you; it does. You wonder if you got taught a different golden rule. Maybe it's a scam? Maybe they teach everyone something different? Or maybe there are just a lot of people who want to be treated like stupid assholes? 

I don't know. It's complicated.

It makes you want to dip yourself in tar and feathers and find a tall building to fly from.

See, you weren't made for this world. You poor, silly fool. No one actually does the things they say they're going to do. Not many at least. But there are some, and that's enough. They hang like bright, plump apples among the shriveled fruit of fruitless discontent. So what you had money; that shit got spent. Where?


I'd ask my friends, but I don't know where they went. 

BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in!

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Tricky, imagery.

It's not that you're stagnant, or moving too fast. You gotta move fast. The fingers hurt now and you're getting old now. Everybody has a sad, sad story. And yours ain't sad the way you think it is. It's sad from my side. That's not what you're going for. Not that kind of sad. Carny sad.

And I ain't looking to pick fights with Carnies. I know a little, and a little told me enough. I know where to put that cotter pin. Big sum bitches. That'll hurt ya.

See, I get tired of making pictures for people sometimes. Because no one cares enough. It will never be enough. I can break your heart in Sydney. It'll never be enough. I can explode, and all I'll want is to do it bigger the next time. It's competitive, seductive.

Sometimes, I just want to talk. Can't we just sit and talk? I feel like we never talk anymore. And I know, it's busy - life - and you do what you can. I know. I think the same sad, worn-tread thoughts as you. Damn it. I slipped up.

Tricky, imagery.

Friday, June 3, 2016

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!

Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

"So, I had this dream last night. I was drunk as all hell. I just want you to know about the dream. It wasn't anything. Except weird. But I thought you should know. It brought back some stuff. I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry. I know it could have been worse, but it could have been a damn sight better. It took me away from the family. There were a lot of things I was trying to get away from, but family wasn't one of them. I wanted to be the kind of guy that was always their for their kids, their wife. It took me a while to figure out that being present wasn't the same as being there, and that wasn't fair to anyone. You. The kids. Wasn't even fair to me, really. I'm not looking for sympathy. Just blows my mind how much better things are now. God, I wasted so much time. I missed so many little moments. Didn't seem like a big deal at the time, but those moments add up. Did I ever tell you about the time Jenny asked me why I drank beer? I think she was two. It still breaks my heart. She... Hey...you listening?"

"...Hmm, yeah, hold on. I just have to finish this post."

The phone flickered in the dark room, sending weird shadows into the corners to dance and mock me. I knew I shouldn't say anything. It would just start another fight. But I did say something.

And I was right.

BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ TONIGHT! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in!