Tag Archives: son

Olfactory

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After midnight, Professor Quilty stumbled into his office and saw a note lying on the dark orange ottoman. He was on his way to the living room, finishing off an otherwise pathetic evening of missed chances and failed opportunities — grabbed the Continue reading Olfactory

Summertime or Why not take all of me

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There he goes again.
Into the belly of the beast.
No…
Here’s where the narrative shifts.
From Hey, things good.
To The doorbell keeps ringing, but there’s no one there.
It hurts
In my nervous system
I’m Continue reading Summertime or Why not take all of me

Real Talk

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Snippet of conversation between the boy and I…

How was the callback, dad?
Good, thank you for asking.
That’s good. You did a great job.
I think I did. I did well with the adjustments. Do you know what adjustments are?
No.
Well, let’s say your job is to ask for more water in a restaurant. Then you do it, and the director may say ‘That was good, but try to be a little more fearful next time.’ So you do Continue reading Real Talk

We Surrounded

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We surrounded you.

We surrounded you and we were seventeen adults and we were all dressed in black. You knew me—that’s it. That’s all it took for you to sit in that studio and watch grown men and women move in the space.

The instructor put duct tape on the floor in 5X6 square. Actors went into the middle. The assignment: make the space bigger.

Where was your fear Continue reading We Surrounded

The Slide Scenario

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A father and his six year old son.

Whatddya say kiddo? Want to go to the waterpark?
Oh, yeah!
Sounds like fun?
Uh-huh! I’m gonna go on the fast slide.
That’s what they’re saying; they may not let you.
Why?
I would let you; they won’t cause you’re not tall enough. They have this line and they say “You have to be this tall to ride.”
What if I’m grown up?
If you’re an Continue reading The Slide Scenario

Overheard voices on a Christmas Day

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“…that place, that’s like, over by those big letters?”
“Yes.”
“That’s like, the main ice cream hang out for hipsters. Not like, all the hipsters, but the real ones.”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word all the time.”
“Gary.”
“Neither of us use that word.”
“It’s his terminology, he’s using it to find his language. The way he speaks.”
“I don’t need to say it, Dad. I do it to come across as… not like, arrogant.”
“You said it again.”
“I said it differently. I said, ‘not like,’ as in this is not like this.”
“This painter is no Picasso. The New York Times isn’t the New York Post. Your Mom’s not your Dad.”
“Gary.”

At this point the ‘Don’t Walk’ sign turned into a white person and I waited just a second longer, till I could feel their eyes fall on me, then quickly crossed street.