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The Field TripGary thought he should have gotten a haircut before going on the field trip. His long black hair now draped over his brow, almost blanketing his eyes. His mom told him she didn’t have the money for it now, so he just had to wait until she got paid on Friday. The school bus was crowded and loud. He sat at the front, and some of the kids made fun of him for it, but he didn’t care. From here he could watch Fiona, his 19-year-old camp counselor. She had gorgeous blond hair, and her arms were tanned and healthy. He was fixated on her shoulders, on their perfectly straight bones, which were visible under her YMCA tank top. GThe Field Trip
by *berenstain-bare
Bostonyes, Boston was nice, wasn’t it?Boston
walking arm in arm comfortable in sweatshirts in the cool early October seeing Fenway and a cemetery where great writers are buried the cobblestone love of that great city. warm coffee cups and bowls of clam chowder. I wanted to stay there forever.
but our high school class trip lasted a few days only and soon enough we were back on the bus headed back to Cleveland backpacks and suitcases full of souvenirs piled under the bus in the stowaway area. &
by *berenstain-bare
HereWell how did we get here? This dilapidated forest is nothing like the hiking trail I tried to get us to. You driving your car two years older than I and me with directions in my hand a navigator more lost than anyone.Here
I swear though if you saw this trail: just stunning. The old wooden bridge follows to a small fall the water toppling over from a stream you can follow past boulders and flowers to a small brook hopping on stones to cross with a big field on a hill so open I drea
by *berenstain-bare
Words Never Die, Do They?For Stanley Kunitz, 1905-2006Words Never Die, Do They?
From the library I borrowed Selected Poems 1928-1958 a collection of Stanley Kunitz’s poetry when he was young like me, probably trying to find his place in the world too. The cover was a stitched orange slowly fading to white on the sides. I thumb it back and open the dusty pages and musty smell of a book a life captured and tamed and given more everything.
We are not souls but systems, and we move In clouds of our unknowing &n
by *berenstain-bare
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Devious Info
- Interests: all kinds of writing, film
- Favourite movie: Three Colors Trilogy
- Favourite band or musician: Queens of the Stone Age
- Favourite poet or writer: Bukowski, Faulkner, Didion, Collins, Orwell, Mamet, Albee, Kunitz, Vonnegut
- Operating System: Windows
- Shell of choice: turtle
- Skin of choice: human
- Favourite game: (currently) Mario Power Tennis, Super Smash Bros. Melee
- Favourite gaming platform: Gamecube
- Favourite cartoon character: any character from Futurama
- Tools of the Trade: Microsoft Word, Final Draft v.7
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"Remember the lord in retirement from the people and make prayer thy sleep, hunger thy food."
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me: Wooo! I'm gonna get hooked up to a bunch of wires and machines. I'll be the bionic woman!
~THCA If they give you electrolytes you'll be the ionic woman too!
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i just found out there's no such thing as the real world.
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