"Currently on headache duty. Don't get jealous."
I took a bit of a baguette and withdrew back to my room.
Closing the door, my sinuses knew they were free again to reclaim my attention. They put on quite a show, one their audience had no hope of leaving...

I've noticed from your recent audio clips
You've had a narrative about you Let it rise like a dough The best way to do it is to accept ahead of time that no single line is sacred
And that editing is done with a bloody knife
Don't hold your pen in wait for...

I threw my laptop in the river today. Had to find a river first, so that took some time. Sort of lessened the enjoyment of it, temporally distanced from the email that triggered the event. But so it goes.

Over an hour had passed. The chips had grown stale. You don't think about chips ever going stale, until they do. Just goes to show.

This was England, of course. Only an hour had passed. Karaoke really takes hold of you.

The taxi outside the pub had gotten us mixed up for...

Times have passed me by, the old man sang on the pier.

The sun shone across the jade-green sea in white plastic ripples. I wrung a hand on the rust-speckled rail and watch the speedboats play on the waves. My head was killing me. I thought the open air would have...

Not sure how my movements had slowed that much. Felt like I was keeping pace with the times, as I saw them. Maybe my world had just been shrinking all along, screwed with my perspective.
Not like I’d holed myself away somewhere. Kids would come to me for tips,...

having to unwind after a trip is a confusing thing. needing a rest from your rest. where do you turn? vacation days are spent, work stares forward like a skull-faced goalie in penalty shots.
my bones are sore, my spirit sunken into my pillow like so many bags of...

A spark to his tinder, I said, warning off more of Steve’s remark. He nodded, not fully knowing but accepting.

We all knew what Mark was capable of. Bold, emboldened, and brilliantly, intuitively capable of making the worst of a great situation.

versions of ourselves come out in turns, lazily spinning like a susan.
turns of style and substance, fountains sourced from new aquifers and brought to new lips.
A wardrobe of the master bard, borne of experience, splendor and smut. 
one much less picks their suit as they pick the day off the calendar...

the airport beer hit different. it was less of an escape, a promise to the next, as it was a wilting petal finally hitting the floor. Its mellow sweet notes of banana struck him as a sour slap upon his face as she walked away, away and beyond, gone for...