The Bird

The bird sitting on the yellow gravel shoulder was pretty much a bird like any other. Two wings, a beak, no bladder, and all that shit. It thought thoughts that other birds think, which are inconsequential really.
   It was pretty much just a black fucking bird, with one little extra errand to run.
But that didn’t matter, not at the ( Read more... )

Last night ( Read more... )

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Last night Johnny was a force.

A movement so pure and clean that he was invisible.  Only very old gods and very young children could see him as the swaying of clustered apple leaves when the breeze abates.

An energy so subtle it would seep - gurgling - between tide smoothed stones, the round currency of daughter moon.

A strength so callous it ( Read more... )

Last night Johnny was a girl. As if he always had been, with no change he was cognizant of. He might not have been Johnny at all even. Not this time, he might have been someone else; maybe Johnny was just watching this time. But there was still this anxious, paranoid quality about her. So even if it wasn’t Johnny, it was someone linked to him ( Read more... )

Last night, Johnny as an IMAC. It was weird, being confined in the little neon blue plastic casing. A little confining even, but there he was none-the-less ( Read more... )

So here I sit, first day of my journal, with an intent and no zest to propel it ( Read more... )