Fragments from my novel:
exile postcards
It seems like all my life I've been going out looking for something. Something; else. Something; new. Once it was a someone or a someplace or an if only. I found some and lost some and here I am again. Still looking. I know there are others like me and sometimes we find each other. That is why I have mostly stopped looking. We will discover each other or we wont. I wish us luck. We'll need it.
the pyramid is standing on its head
The world, for lack of a better one is where we must matriculate. Through the trickery and corruption, the sham and the shimmy. Through the flim-flam man Moloch monsters and madmen crying in rage for our blood. I would death-ray you all with a clear conscience. Fuck the enslavers. Fuck the betrayers. Fuck them all up the ass with a pineapple.
the black hole of history
There was a war once. There is always a war. A few decades and people forget. The old warriors die. New people are born. New wars, always a war. Vietnam would've eaten your computers for lunch, children. It was wi-fi with napalm online. Coming to get you, your brother your son your husband your father and your puppy dog too. They kept shoveling in the bodies to keep the crazy train running. Kill this kill that cut their throats burn them out. Don't ask why don't even try to make any sense of it, it won't play that way. America love it or leave it. Freedom only if you could conceive it.
My refusal to be inducted into the United States Army in 1968 was my way of saying no. No is a concept by which I removed my name from the senseless death that was waged by ruthless cowards. Now there is a war. There is always a war. They kill in the name of killing. It doesn't even have a name anymore.
