Tuesday, May 31, 2016

963. A face for radio

I have a face for radio.
I have a face for radio.
I'm not even sure what that means.
Feeling pretty good about the range of technologies I can use to describe my faults these days.

Friday, May 27, 2016

962. Alternate realities

I heard somewhere the prison system does a rigorous trade in audio cassettes.
And, did you know, someone donates those "Superbowl Champion" t-shirts of the Superbowl losers to be worn in Africa?
Somewhere, Nirvana plays on and the Buffalo Bills are an extraordinary franchise.
Alternate realities are available at all price points.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

961. Wattage

I'm the Number 1 disc jockey in a ghost town.
I tried to warn them with the radio when the wolves and the tornadoes and the pestilence and the plagues came but I failed.
Now my failures are piled up around me like sedimentary layers of shale in strata of regret.
Well, anyways, here's Blues Traveler for your lunchtime throwback.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

960. Spice Run

They made Juarez around 4:00 a.m., like Charles Portis chasing the real Mexico southward.
They wanted to see it made.
They wanted Tabasco as fresh as it came - straight from the man at the factory store.
But Tabasco comes from Louisiana, you damned fools.

Monday, May 9, 2016

959. Reckoning

I am constantly at war with my own deficiencies. 
Take my thumb, for example.
Stubby, shark-headed, it rubs against my index finger like it could erase my very fingerprint.
Even subconsciously, I am trying to avoid justice for my crimes against myself.