If Dad had to die, I wanted to give my new best friend a chance at eternal life. Something that would keep me from losing him, too. So, I named him King George.… Continue Reading
Horace once wrote, “Don’t think, just do.” He also wrote, “Mix a little foolishness with your serious plans. It is lovely to be silly at the right moment.” That’s why I thought Perry quoted the Roman, not an ex-roofer with a broken back. There’s nothing more “roofer” than a man acting fool while concocting serious plans.… Continue Reading
Greta March brought Evan up for one last tryst. Years had passed since they’d seen one another. Now everything was different. It wasn’t quite the end yet, but she was beginning to betray a deeper degree of illness—a general thinning of figure, feature, and voice. She wanted to see the lake house alone this last time.… Continue Reading
At 5:06, the tracks start singing. HG’s beer can rattles the metal arm of his chair and stops. Rattles. Stops. The tracks hum, then skip, hum skip hum skip humskip humskip humskip humskip. The sound is wrong, plain wrong…… Continue Reading
There was a time that you can now no longer remember, when someone scraped you off their shoe and taught you how to be human. How to have arms and legs, how to have a face and a body, how to wear clothes and cut your hair and see things and be seen. There was an adjustment period, but after that it was a gloriously certain time, when meaning could be plucked fully-formed from thin air like ripe fruit. You loved that.… Continue Reading
My therapist tells me I need to start making amends. Instead, I post to Facebook. Anyone who has been wronged or offended by my past actions is welcome to fight me tomorrow at the Applebee’s on Route 30. I provide the details. Starting at noon, I will be in the Applebee’s parking lot all day,… Continue Reading
A coming-out is kind of like a reverse surprise party: the invitation is an ambush, and once you receive it, you’re at the party. … Continue Reading
I wanted to write about the strength of my people, Eastern Kentuckians. We’ve been, and will continue to be called, dumb, backward, incestuous, lazy, drunkards and drug addicts, and on it goes forever. Pisses me off at a fire-and-brimstone level. And I took that pissed-offedness and Breece’s abilities as a writer and busted ass to show our heart and loyalty and ability to survive hardship and a hundred other positive traits. I’m still trying to bust ass with that as much as I can.… Continue Reading
No whisper goes unheard. Not the apologetic late arrival nor the chattering of children. We fidget in creaks. We remove and replace hymnals in scrapes and thunks. We stumble down pews with muttered condolences.… Continue Reading
“Quentin, you know I hate football.”
Quentin nodded. He knew. And it was just another reason to break up with Marcie. He just had to get her to ask how much the boots had cost, and it would be smooth sailing from there. Yes, there would be tears and pouting, angry recrimination, but it was something that had to be done.… Continue Reading