The interstate is a long gray snake, delivering me to Tampa and my brother's murderer. I drink 10 espressos and piss in a Gatorade jug as I drive. The journey is kept interesting by the snipers hiding in the trees alongside the road. Wreckage lines the road, muzzle flashes burst from the treeline. More than … Continue reading The journey is kept interesting by the snipers hiding in the trees alongside the road.
I realize it is unproductive to dwell on the past and turn the tv on. It is muted, but I think the pictures will at least occupy me. The host is bidding farewell to a very tall Asian man, whom I assume is a basketball player, and then the words flash on the screen: UP … Continue reading As they say in Rockford, nothing happens here but terrible, boring things