Archive | June, 2017

The God of the Mockingbirds

17 Jun

In February the mockingbird had to start singing. He woke up the whole neighborhood.

When the sunlight was long enough a part of his brain grew. It made him listen to other birds’ songs around him. He’d memorize them. Then perch up as high as he could go. Yell them as loudly as he could. He wanted to do this like he wanted to breathe. There were about five kinds of birds that sang in the neighborhood. Sparrows. He’d sing their five songs over and over. Continue reading

Don’t Work

17 Jun

chinese couple

Anyone who says they made it working is lying. No exceptions. If they’re a man it’s dad’s money. A woman: dad’s money or she sold pussy. No exceptions. Men tell you it was software. Code for fake shit you don’t understand. Women tell you it’s some girl shit; interior design.

It’s dad’s money or selling dad pussy. Continue reading

Morning Diary: You Can All Suck My Dick

3 Jun
AM coyote

pic unrelated

The neighbors upstairs have a kid. Another on the way. The one, he’s maybe two now; he just stomps back and forth sixteen hours a day. They had the carpet ripped out. Pergo floors put in. They had the furniture replaced with church organs, machine guns; garbage trucks and backhoes constantly reversing. Cages of screaming jackals. He runs and turns around and runs across as much of the place isn’t taken up by the couch crib and TV. I only ask them to quiet down at night. When I’m trying to sleep so I can wake up at six, write something that someone will comment is a failure* and that I deserve my obscurity. Otherwise I can’t bring myself to crush his joy at just being alive to run from one place to another. Getting strong to chase the buffalo. Continue reading