Wednesday, February 14, 2018

His daily life-experience was best described by a persistent thought which tried to filter its way through his head as he walked along Michigan Avenue, how each car in this morning's rush hour seemed to flow directly into him and disappear within the dark, echoing forests of his past instead of harmlessly passing by him, as if he were a portal from which nothing ever returned, though the image of every object hovered before his face, in his wide line of vision, as if on the event horizon of a massive black hole, making it difficult for him to see what was coming and where he was going.

Monday, February 12, 2018

After half a century of living, he wasn't sure if the human condition was something to be embraced or transcended.

Thursday, February 8, 2018

The light on the dirty water running back and forth in the blue grooves of the rubberized flooring on the CATA bus caught her eye--made her feel insignificant and omnipotent at the same time.

Monday, January 29, 2018

Given time, he grew to realize life had become awkward: little more than a catalog of events that would never happen, a litany of items he would never possess.

Sunday, January 28, 2018

He was part of a loose, widespread cult known as America which subscribed to the belief that the investment of a portion of each paycheck for the purchase of small electronic devices could balance the ills brought on by social media, bad genes or otherwise by providing a variety of platforms.

Friday, January 19, 2018

These days they spent many long nights listening to impressively engineered playlists with expensive headphones and occasionally looked over at all sorts of people talking on the TV, their wooden mouths moving like those of nutcrackers and puppets, all while scrolling across an internet as burned out and lifeless as a planet more ancient than the one on which they so inhospitably lived.

Thursday, December 29, 2016

His heart spasmed every time he overheard men in conversation in cramped quarters, like a bar or restaurant, using the phrases “moving units” or “price per units” or “number of units,” his eyes promptly glazing over no matter where he found himself as he pictured himself in a grey suit with a conservative yet expensive hat, riding in the back of a sleek black car as it drove over a cliff.
After completely severing his left foot at the ankle, he vowed from that point on the women of the family would have to cut down the annual Christmas tree instead of standing around watching him bleed.
He scoffed at people who thought their passing activated streetlights, believing such foolish idea-making to be worthless to the advancement of society.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

He could love you, or he could hate you; he had found very little use for middle ground.
He clung to the idea that remaining mindful and present in the slow motion of a moment amid the onslaught of the daily neurotic, maddening dash of appointments and deadlines and routine maintenance was an option; he implicitly understood that turning off the "device" was key.
His main issue--or perhaps it was just an observation--stemmed from the fact that he was already thinking about how he could write about whatever he was experiencing or observing before the experiential or observational act, or state, concluded; all of his other problems--or "ways"--branched away from this stem.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

He wouldn't be present at the memorial due to family obligations, but then again he wouldn't have been completely present anyway, smiling and chatting and persevering.
In a quiet moment, while he was watching Netflix, all of the emotion he hadn't been able to find found him.
Her independence inspired a radical shift in perspective for someone like him, as if going from walking to flying in a plane.

Monday, July 6, 2015

One humid summer night, after he had wrapped up a late-night painting session in the basement studio with her brother, he had spied her, the older sister, sleeping on the couch as he exited the bathroom on the main floor, thinking to himself in that unavoidable yet noncommittal pause that she looked like an angel from a Wim Wenders movie if the angels in Wenders' films had slept.
He was glad that she relied on him, oh, so little, as was within her character, but every now and then, and again, as if to make him happy.
They looked on with astonishment and jealousy as the lead singer of Les Savy Fav came down from the stage to lick their compatriot's bald, sweating head.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

He would always remember her generosity, her kindness, her support of the arts, and of several artists, in particular, who needn't be mentioned or praised.
He felt that he was here to say the thing that certain people in certain situations needed to hear.
It hadn't occurred to him when he took her to the hospital that she wouldn't come home despite the fact that he was just as cynical and jaded as any intelligent American.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

It was time to step away and invest sentences into the actual thing.
She packed up and vacated the offices of her past for a much better lease on the future.
Deposits had been made, checks had been cashed, and now all of his accounts were overdrawn.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

He was as casual in casual conversation as it gets.
She had a voice--the kind that could translate well via live stage, recording studio, smart phone, walkie talkie, tin can....
He had been hoping for a little more asteroid.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

After a long pause, he ordered a Happy Meal and a chocolate shake topped with whipped cream and a procrastination berry.
Hopping backward to a younger, carefree day, she sprang forth with confidence and joy.
The days, weeks and months were mapped upon his haggard face like the imprint of a wrinkled sheet.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Given to daydreams, he often found that his focus on the moment had to wait for a minute.
She looked a little bit like Monica Vitti with a bad perm.
He loathed the expression rusted shut.

Friday, August 1, 2014

He sat on the couch near the back window, drinking his coffee with a closed book on his lap, and listened.
Her opinions and observations concerning the crumbling infrastructure of a lost and reeling society were sure to be a best seller.
He shamelessly lied to himself about the reputable clinical research that supported the benefits of including a coffee cake muffin with a cream cheese center in one's daily morning diet.

Thursday, July 31, 2014

He had never really been able to discover a decent antidote for writer's block.
She was aware that there were forests where trees and plants and other organisms wouldn't grow.
He had entered one of those sterile waiting rooms where all creativity was put on hold.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

He couldn't resist a glazed or chocolate-frosted donut.
She constantly reminded him that his generalizations had to be drawn up over and over with each new set of circumstances.
What the films had taught his generation is that there should always be music, at the very least noise--in the background, middle ground, foreground: that silence is artificial.

Friday, July 25, 2014

What stood out and remained with most people was how the cowlick at the crown of his head matched the colicky behavior at the heart of his personality.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

It wasn't uncommon for him to become totally bogged down with his blogging.
She argued calmly and confidently and carefully before the executive board, as if cruising through a neighborhood filled with playing children, that terrible, self-absorbed drivers were spurring the need for rapid advancements in driverless automotive technologies.
When he switched from Google to Google+, he wound up minus something.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

She gaped out of the rain-streaked window contemplating how she could help the men feel more comfortable with her extremely high level of knowledge and expertise without furthering their deep-seated feelings of inferiority.
He shuddered to think what other intelligent life would conclude about them based upon topical analyses of film and television studies.
The made-for-television series confirmed what she already knew--that there was as much misogyny embedded in the culture as sugar on sugar-coated cereals, or poppy and sesame seeds on everything bagels, or cinnamon and sugar on cinnamon donuts.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

He hoped that if he fell flat on his face there would be a banana cream pie on the ground.
He was hoping to discover the hallmark of quietude in the country beyond the orange groves.
Ideas came to her mind the way mail arrived in the mailbox.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

When the alien interrogation was over, they left her in a soft clearing in the woods about a mile from her house with some nice parting gifts.
Who didn't chase a cheese cake muffin with a strong cup of coffee?
And for his sins, he only allowed himself to eat sugarless cereals in the morning (not true).

Saturday, July 12, 2014

They met on their lunch breaks--two artists in their own rights--and wandered together through the museum and talked, vaguely aware of the art.
She insisted on starting each day with a cup of French-pressed coffee, a croissant and the voice of the diva.
He never grew tired of his Pop Art books.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

It was all French toast to him.
She treasured the moments he was able to break out of his lugubrious philosophical stand up.
If after all of that laughter he found nothing funny, then he would at least bask in the satisfaction of having put forth a Herculean effort.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Friday, July 4, 2014

He knew that this country's biggest issue was greed, and that many, many other issues could be tackled if greed could be eliminated from the equation.
She wasn't down with all of this fancy schmancy bullshit.
He told the young mother on the cafe patio that she might want to cover her children's eyes and look away while he devoured his chocolate chip muffin.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

After all of the blood work came back, his doctor concluded that he was suffering from a poetry deficiency, and, after subjecting him to a brief questionnaire, prescribed Ginsberg, O'Hara, Koch and Wakoski.
She understood him better than anyone else.
Between the scrambled eggs and fluffy pancakes, he discovered a Slim Jim--not quite what you were thinking.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Sometimes he wanted information; sometimes he wanted entertainment.
Now, as he aged, a certain cache of memories began to strike him as too absurd or outrageous to have actually occurred, and yet the very unlikelihood of the substance of these recollections is precisely what gave them a sense of credibility, despite the unreliability of his memory, because he knew, to his dismay, that his imagination would be hard pressed to create the lines, shapes and values of these particular shades.
He thoroughly enjoyed not how but that Ke$ha rhymed "saber-toothed tiger" with "warm Budweiser."

Monday, June 30, 2014

His proximity to the heavens and stars after camping in the Berkshires intensified his desire to "get off the grid."
She needed to "get to the lake" or camp at least once every summer in order to endure the cabin fever of winter.
He had been subjected to a spot check while wearing  his favorite plaid jacket.

Monday, June 23, 2014

As his understanding of time was altered--i.e., when he became aware that no one, including himself, escaped--his concept of time became more scrambled and abstract, less tangible.
During quiet moments, like early in the morning or late at night, as she sat at the table sipping coffee or lay in bed trying to sleep, listening to a train, she felt like a portal through which incoherent and indecipherable transmissions from undiscovered dimensions were emitted.
He walked places.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

It had always been important that he had been right in front of the stage, pushed right up against the edge, or in the front row, right below the lead singer, since he would never be in the spotlight.
She was in her greatest element on the longest night of the year, and she could feel her powers intensify.
He stoically dedicated the show to those who had gone before, and to those who could see with their eyes closed, and then they began to play without another word to each other or anyone else for the rest of the night.

Friday, June 20, 2014

After he peeled back the pink strip of hair on the cyborg's head, he wished he had selected a different sort of nightmare.
The neon lights and tinted, reflective windows, the colorful newspaper boxes and fire hydrants, the crappy graffiti and commercial signage of the strip embodied the hues of her soul as seen in her eyes.
Not even a bottle of Coca-Cola could strip the garlic from his breath.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

It was fair to say that he had, and continued to, borrow from Jasper Johns, believing that he might as well borrow, since everyone did, from the best.
She didn't let little things like runny eggs ruin her day.
He took the heat like a neatly folded square of paper tucked into his pocket.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

The whole gig revolved around the fact that he could see, as a boy, that he had been born Ojibwa but hadn't been raised as if; the rupture in identity, as a result, had been huge.
She found it hard to explain that writing was as abstract as living to people who didn't write.
He wondered what she was doing, even though she was only on the other side of town, and found it hard to comprehend that other people were doing other things while he typed.

Monday, June 16, 2014

He found the commercials to be better than the programs.
The day was an organism which he adapted to his needs and desires.
Day in and out, he relied upon the casserole to balance the humane with the existential; today was no exception, and so, viola!

Friday, June 13, 2014

He needed a drink.
When he was young, he complemented some of the most memorable and infamous events of his life, some of them planned, some of them accidents, mistakes or misfortunes, with shocking, unforgettable haircuts.
He had had a belt with ersatz Native American bead work on it when he was a boy that had actually made him feel less indigenous than people would believe he actually was.

Thursday, June 12, 2014

During the warm, sunny interim of the day, he often sat erect at his desk on the eighty-seventh floor like an android and stared out of the large plate-glass windows over the city and went to a place where although he could be seen and observed by the other partners and secretaries and visitors, if they happened to glance into his office, he couldn't be found.
She had a hunch that the tenant in 24B was a simulacrum in the strictest sense, combining artificial intelligence with biologic features.
Sometimes he tried to match natural forces with an army of synthetic cliches.