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Short story writer. Tech person. Family Guy.
Play — One particular memory from my childhood has been present lately. Dad. Play with me. No. Men don’t play. Play with your mother. Why would I lower myself to the floor and pretend the figures talk, He said ridiculing me. Men don’t play. Words that resonated with me growing up. I grew up fast, therefore I stopped playing fast. I forgot how to play, and what that meant. It sounded like a foreign word to me. I never spoke the words, I want to play. Other kids would say, you wanna play? Play?...
I've been retired for 10 years and live on the 10th floor of an apartment building right next to a riverfront. My favorite pastime, among many, is to sit on my 10ft balcony to drink my coffee, eat cookies, smoke cigarettes, and face the riverfront. These are my two achy knees that do not go down the stairs unless absolutely necessary. The elevator is a bit finicky and I can't recall the last time I went down. People-sketching is one of my all-time favorite pastimes. I sketch joggers, runners,...
Ephemera — 1. Voices My wall whispers at night. I haven't slept in two weeks. I’m losing my mind. Neighbors have constant conversations. The voices are familiar, like from a dream, but indiscernible. When I put my curious ear to the wall it falls silent. Only when I fall asleep does it feel as if it starts talking about me. Desperation has been burning a hole in my ear. My teeth grind incessantly. Maya, my wife doesn't hear it. She sleeps soundly. The kids don't hear it. Nothing exists beyond...
Voicemail — Mother left for work this morning but it’s getting late and she hasn’t returned. I’m hungry and the neighbors rustle about in their lawns, eyes fixed on a red sky. I tried calling Mom but the cell service and WiFi are out. As it twilights, I hear my phone chiming. 30 messages and 3 voice notes. The last one chills me. It’s mom sobbing and another voice snarling. “I love you son, I’m so sorry.” In the background, a gritty unknown language: “Do not fear… Cleanse the world… His will be...
Cairo Food Rhapsody — Everything and everyone was making an improvised symphony. Car horns blared, radio stations sang lively, and the daily chatter swirled, indiscernible, but told the cities energetic collective story. I could smell the dryness in the air. Exhaust and sand aren't exactly a pleasure, but somehow behind the thick layer of crud, I could make out a hint of delicious meat. Maybe it was avian or bovine or who knows. Someone down there was cooking something worth following your...
"I sat down on a bench, picked up, and examined a dusty old leatherbound book left behind. The thought of who would abandon a beautiful book passed through my mind as a quick visual search revealed nobody around. A faint metallic taste reached my tongue through the nostrils. My eyes watered shut. In the darkness, I felt light-headed and saw an unspeakable, indescribable being. My breath ceased and it unleashed horrific imagery in my mind. A world enslaved by an entity as it watched above....
The more time I spend down here with the geminists and gopherites, there's a feeling of creativity that has been reawakened. Far away from endless scrolling tailored bitesize deadbrained consumable content. A part of my brain is awakening and I like it. Sadness dissipates.
A thought occured to me today. It was a fleeting thought and it was important. I tried to write it down, but I was driving. I should have recorded it. Most thoughts come during the drive.
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