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The Passenger

1 Comment · Wednesday, October 5, 2011
I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told the police. When I picked him up from the airport, he didn’t seem all that bad off. Pale, perhaps, with rings around the eyes, but nothing alarmingly different than anyone else I had picked up that was in the middle of a tour.    

The Doghouse

3 Comments · Tuesday, September 27, 2011
I felt tired walking up to Walgreens on a Tuesday morning in Covington. The night before, a barking dog kept me up until 2 in the morning. It was a vicious bark with practically no letup. I couldn’t figure it out. All around me are apartment buildings. Why would a dog be kept outside all night?  

My Mother in September

0 Comments · Wednesday, September 21, 2011
This time of year, I tend to look out my window at the changing season. I notice that the leaves are starting to fall from the trees and there’s coolness in the air most mornings. Summer is almost gone and it’s time to prepare myself for the chilly winter season that will come much too soon.  

America 2011

3 Comments · Wednesday, September 14, 2011
I gave America a Labor Day party this weekend and it was a lot of work. The kids aren’t so much interested in fireworks anymore, but rest assured we adults still like our alcohol. America, are you tired? I know I am. Tired of the 50-hour workweek, or the no workweek. Tired of 1 % of your population owning 40% of your wealth. Tired of record profits and thievery being subsidized.  

Anna’s Regret

0 Comments · Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Anna called me one night around 9 o’clock. I knew she was calling me from a bar, could hear the jukebox in the background, could hear a Country song playing, which was almost louder than Anna. She was slurring her words when she asked me to join her. I couldn’t that night, but I agreed to meet her the following week.  

Little Covington Stories

0 Comments · Wednesday, August 31, 2011
I’ve been living in Covington for a few weeks now. I’m still feeling my way around the area. As a writer, I keep a notebook of interesting things I see or memorable conversations I have. I’ve compiled some little Covington stories to share with you.  

Gun People

35 Comments · Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Gun people: I don’t pretend to understand them. I don’t relate to people who carry guns, collect them or shoot them. To me, guns encourage violent behavior and are a danger to society. I shot a gun once back when I was 11 or 12 years old. Living in the country, my father let me shoot his gun into a field. I remember the shot being loud and me falling down as the gun went off. It was scary.  


5 Comments · Wednesday, August 17, 2011
It was my birthday, but you know it wasn’t a big deal or anything. Like no one declared, “Let’s go out tonight and celebrate your birthday, Mark.” Going out just happened, as usual. It consisted, sadly, of driving up and down the strip — which I now realize is no strip at all, but just a street like any other. But sometimes we would find something there, like a drag race maybe, or (preferably) the rear-end of a car full of girls. More often than not, though, there would be nothing.  

Handling Addictions

0 Comments · Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Would it shock the hell out of you that a 57-year-old man would love Amy Winehouse’s music? I do. When I found out she died late last month I played her Back to Black CD over and over again. Winehouse had a unique, soulful voice and was one of the best songwriters ever. For those of us who followed her, it was a sad day when she left us.  

Bloodbath Barcelona

0 Comments · Wednesday, August 3, 2011
After four days of Beck’s for breakfast in Germany, I already felt sapped of energy and hobbled. Not to mention the reappearance of a long-lost ailment that suddenly returned: an anal fissure that had me repeatedly filling the bowl in a way that brought to mind Jackson Pollock.  

Accepting Change

0 Comments · Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I was playing my mandolin just like I do on most early evenings. Playing this musical instrument, which I’ve been playing since I was a child, relaxes me. On this particular evening, it was making me sad. As I played, thoughts went through my mind that this would be the last time I’d be playing the mandolin in Westwood. The following day was moving day. I was making a change in my life and moving to Covington.  

Special Effects

0 Comments · Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Several weeks ago, distracted and sweating, I was daydreaming down at Newport on the Levee; the thick air nearly cooked me. Imagining movie scenes, I took it all in: the shapes, the colors, the smells and the way the sun had reddened strangers’ shoulders and cheeks. That weekend I was selling raffle tickets at a booth for the Freestore Foodbank. Since the crowd was slow, and the food stands smelled nasty, I wandered away, seeking action.  

Modern Technology

0 Comments · Wednesday, July 13, 2011
About 20 minutes into the phone conversation, I started to feel annoyed. I was tempted to light up another cigarette. But, trying to cut back, I didn’t. My mind raced to excuses I could make to wrap up her nonstop talking. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  


0 Comments · Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Last week, I had a little time to kill before an afternoon appointment, so I went to Fountain Square to hang out for a while. Sitting at a table, I listened in on a conversation two young girls were having at another table to my left. “I haven’t seen Paul in over two days,” the girl with the dark hair said. “I miss him so much; love him so much, I can’t stand this much longer.”  

Not So Jazzy

0 Comments · Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Jazzy is what I called him as did others who knew him. He considered us friends, but the reality is I don’t think any of us really knew him at all or even wanted to. Why he kept popping up in my life I don’t know. Some people keep resurfacing like a bad penny, and he was one of them. That won’t be the case anymore. Jazzy died of a heroin overdose a couple weekends ago.