Sunday, June 28, 2009


The compilation of every sound that ever was, but especially the good ones, like rain (obviously), and sloppy snare drums and electric pianos and that popping sound that you get when you hit your hand on a PVS pipe; the rationing of exclamations marks, because, seriously; lexicography; retroyms; math; sentences in all capitals.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The Equilibrium of Things - 3

On the first day, I turned on the highest sound there ever was and watched them go crazy, slicing off their ears into a pile, their smiles plastered with relief.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

The Equilibrium of Things - 2

On the second day, it was decided that a big pile of ears is just too macabre a sight, and so the planes were loaded up and flew away to dispose of their cargo above the ocean.

As the day drew to a close, I told my men to fire their rockets, and the planes exploded into a million little bits, and the ears scattered down to earth, unhearing, unknowing, unfeeling.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009


In summer, she loved him because of the way he thrived in the heat, like a weed - his hands built for gripping and his skin for sweating and his lips for smoking, so he could finish every day higher on the mountains than he started. His fingers were cold because of a circulation problem that slowed down his thinking like it was stuck behind a car that was always in a school zone, and she liked the way he touched her ears when he tucked her hair back; in summer, she relished every little shiver.

In winter, he was the one who loved her because winter is a time for precision, and he was a bright kid who just moved a little slower than everyone else, unless, of course, she was dragging him along by the toes that she had such an unusual tendency to crack against the coffee table. In winter, he prayed for heat waves, because he preferred sweating to thawing and because he didn't like seeing the way his breath looked in the cold air and so he loved her because he didn't get heat waves but the palms of her hands were enough to avoid freezing, anyway.

Monday, June 01, 2009

Scenes 9

I think there is something mystical about hands only bell players really get when they first realize they are playing without watching, when they realize their skin knows where the notes are, when they realize their wrists might be governed by a force they don't understand.

Waking up early is my least favorite thing to do in the world, it is like, hey, you should wake up early so instead of burying yourself in a mountain of warm down and pillows you can be cold and tired, but when my alarm went off and I knew why it was earlier than usual that day I wasn't even a little bit upset about it.

That bird was the stupidest bird in the whole world, but you still couldn't stop laughing.