Art. Cynicism.

Travis comes to visit me, but I'm blue, and I'm lousy company.  I shrug, and apologize for being in the doldrums. "My body is broken and so is my heart.  That's all I've got going on right now, and I don't want to bore anyone with it." He tells me that people aren't bored by... Continue Reading →

He Says His Name is Nigel

He says his name is Nigel. It’s like I have a homing device for British men. I’m squirming, but he’s too drunk to notice. He has a martini in one hand, a stain on the shirt under his suit jacket, and I’m looking at chandeliers, padded lounges, and girls resembling porn stars. Anything so I... Continue Reading →

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