Uncle Joe
Filed under Bad Poetry, Writing on December 3rd, 1999 No Comments »
A poem about my good ol’ uncle Joe…
Filed under Bad Poetry, Writing on December 3rd, 1999 No Comments »
A poem about my good ol’ uncle Joe…
Filed under Stories, Writing on January 19th, 1999 No Comments »
It doesn’t take much to fix a laptop computer, if you know how, and if you have the time and energy, and I suppose the experience helps a bit. Maybe even some training. I had all of those things, but my company still wouldn’t let me fix them. Something about the warranty, I was not an authorized technician and I would void the warranty if I opened them up. So when our laptop computers broke down we were required to call the manufacturer for “on-site” service, which meant that some guy with less experience and energy would come out to the office and fix them for us. I fixed all the desktop computers, the servers, the printers, everything else, but I wasn’t allowed to mess with the innards of the delicate laptops. Read more on 19 Years…
Filed under Comic book, Stories, Writing on October 11th, 1998 No Comments »
(The comic book I write was intended to be very loosely based on the following short story, but ended up being something wholly different.)
Filed under Bad Poetry, Writing on February 2nd, 1998 No Comments »
The lights dim as the cinema begins.
She moves as a parade
of jasmine and winter breath
and I am the last dance of hornets losing stingers.
Lights, camera, action.
She offers up
a smile, an embrace
All her defenses and nervous mysteries.
I devour these gifts,
And suddenly I am trapped
within her cage of arms,
paralyzed, hungry.
The world becomes a teeming collection
of noises and intrusions,
invading our familiar coil.
Somewhere,
The sea level rises,
A streetlight flickers and goes out, followed by another.
I join in their obvious worship,
lost in a wilderness tamed by her bitter smile;
her damning embrace;
the fall of her gentle rain.
A turn of the head, wicked, satisfied,
she opens her cage and releases me
and disappears in a dizzying repose.
Jump cut. The camera follows her down the boulevard.
Sirens.
Footsteps grow quiet.
All that I am fades to black.
Filed under Stories, Writing on January 20th, 1998 No Comments »
Charlie’s wife came into the room without him noticing, as usual. He was busy typing on the computer, connected to a bulletin board system on the other side of town, entering a message in a debate with another user about how stupid he thought the guy was and to what degree. Charlie was involved in his thought process and completely oblivious to her arrival.
Lauren stood behind him for a few seconds, waiting for acknowledgement. Read more on Cosmic Charlie…