After the Bellagio Buffet, Alicia and Matthew part ways -- she on a hunt for family souvenirs and he to find someplace quiet. Matthew finds a small faux-marble nook outfront of Caesar's Palace with a Hindu shrine and no other people. This little courtyard is pleasant; the Donny & Marie billboard is distant enough that its looped advertisement is ( Read more... )

While sitting in his car, Matthew contracts his face muscles, tugs at the corners of his mouth, in an attempt to release the endorphins associated with smiling without actually committing to the act. Through the day Matthew bottles his anger and then purges it in traffic, but December traffic is a particular battle and Matthew must temper himself ( Read more... )

Walnut Street with its tall cliffs of row-homes comes to an abrupt end at the soccer field on 63rd Street, forcing the cautious motorist to make a left or right turn to avoid driving onto it. No soccer game has ever been officially conducted on this field, though the high-intensity lights are on every night -- vigilantly defending the field from ( Read more... )

Monday through Friday, Matthew suckles at the teat of human suffering, and has become bloated with that sweet, sweet milk. The people who call him have miscarried, are addicted to painkillers, have had their cancer termed a pre-existing condition. They are scared, confused, and desperate. These people, at their worst, come to him for counsel and ( Read more... )

They won't turn the heat on in the office. Frost forms on the steel surface of Matthew's leg iron. The glue holding up his printed-out MS Paint drawings cracks and crumbles, exposing the dingy felt wall of his cubicle. His breath fogs the computer screen. Matthew is faced with a dilemma: drink his coffee or huddle against it for warmth ( Read more... )

Matthew is in his burgl'd car, surveying the damage. He is extrapolating the losses from the pennies that remain. For every penny that remains, there is approximately one nickel, one dime, and one quarter missing. There are forty pennies remaining. Counterpoint is in the passenger seat, calculating ( Read more... )

Counterpoint punches me in the arm and I'm back on the air, somewhere, stuck in traffic, slumped low in my bucket seat, and there's static on the radio. A signal is trying to get through, but all I get is partial syllables of someone speaking ( Read more... )

Time is skittish; it darts by when you're distracted but decelerates to an uneasy, lurching pace when you pay it attention. Matthew is in Vrksasana (tree pose) facing his wall clock (moved to eye level for this exercise). He breathes deeply and focuses on the movement of the red hand. Time nervously slows and Matthew sees each jerky step of the ( Read more... )

To whom it may concern ( Read more... )

Hot office gossip for Wednesday June 11, 2008

Honk honk! Summer is in the air and so is the noise of dozens of tiny baby geese! At least, that was the case last week, before the property manager allegedly had the gaggle of goslings murdered! An anonymous source reports that they saw "a man in a uniform with this like aluminum pole" collecting ( Read more... )