“The Hooch” -An Exercpt

“I need a drink”, he thought as he backed out of his driveway.

Tired of facing the harsh realities of what is stitching his life together, Sebastian often found himself turning to the healing powers of The Hooch to soothe, a manifested bridge over the troubled waters that surrounded him.

The Hooch has never lied nor expected anything from him. The Hooch has never taken anything from him. The Hooch just is what it is.

His love for The Hooch started as a simple puppy love. A warm bubble bath that caressed his sore muscles back to a manageable state of indifference. It was a kiss on the forehead after a bedtime story from the parental figure he had always imagined. The honeymoon phase of a burgeoning relationship.

Sebastian had never had a relationship go steady for more than a few months at a time. Once the sugar started to spoil and maggots formed, he’d always thrown it out, expecting to be able to find a replacement sweetener with ease.

But sugar is hard to find these days and aspartame doesn’t do the trick. There’s an aftertaste that follows the sweetness that he never cared for.

The Hooch is always there.

After time, he started finding larvae within The Hooch but couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. The Hooch has seen the best and worst of him and has never turned its back. Still, he found it difficult to ignore the bugs that were beginning to sprout.

The bubble baths became pools of blood. The kisses on the forehead felt like they came from Vito Genovese instead of a loving parent. The familiar love morphed into an authority figure from a super power he no longer recognized.

But The Hooch had never lied to him before and Sebastian had no real reason to believe it would start now.

The Hooch just is what it is.

“Fuck it,” Sebastian thought as he drove down the usual stretch of road to a destination he’d gone to many a time before.

Let The Hooch be the lighter fluid to ignite all the bridges left in ruin from years of neglect. Let The Hooch lift him upwards towards a new plain of transcendence that he never thought imaginable in his default state. Let The Hooch warm the cold parts in his body and reinvigorate the parts of him he had long forgotten existed.

The Hooch just is what it is.

He approached the cash register and realized he was 75 cents short.

So he bought a bottle of soda instead.

Shtup Up

I found a key on my doorstep
with a note attached that read
“Open what ever your heart may desire”

So I tried to unlock my sexdrive
& blew off the dust
& shook off the cobwebs
running along my spire

But I found it tedious
With nothing to stick it in
this key was meaningless

So I went to the market
to buy a bottle of rum
The cashier looked stagnant

So I gave him the key
and said “Here friend,
I hope you find more use than me”

Golden Key – The Daily Prompt

I Used To Think I Hated The Snow

I pulled back the midnight curtains and was instantly blinded by a flurry of whiteness.

It’s the first real snowfall of the season. The sky had attempted to litter the streets throughout the month thus far but it never stuck for long until now. Now there’s real accumulation.

My first instinct was to crank the space heater up another notch, retreat back into bed and pull the covers chin high, and pretend it isn’t there. But… call it a summoning or what have you, I felt the need to go outside.

I put on a coat and my wellworn leather boots (which in all honesty probably shouldn’t be out in that kind weather – but we have walked through worse together) and a soft gust of frigid air brushed against my face.

I headed down the street and started to follow a pair of footsteps left in the ivory. I looked back and saw my own tracks left behind. There’s something refreshing about being able to see proof that you’ve been somewhere. The tracks led to a car in a small lot at the intersection of two streets and a man hurriedly sweeping buildup off the windshield. He noticed me and nodded, I did the same.

I kept on walking. Snowflakes fell upon my eyelashes and I blinked them away. I’ve never believed that no two flakes are identical. It doesn’t seem possible considering how much falls down in a given season just in this city alone, not to mention around the world. And what about Antarctica? It’s practically the biggest snowflake in the world. The frozen water crunching underneath my feet can’t be much different from what’s down there. Still…

I’ve never been able to make incredible snow art like Calvin did with his partner, Hobbes. And I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a formidable snowball fight and sledding always felt like too much of a chore for me to enjoy. And I can’t say I appreciate how much it slows down commutes. Still…

My hands were starting to feel like 2 icecubes holding 10 icicles and my nose was starting to leak. I avoided the slush splatter as cars crept past. Schoolchildren wrapped in many layers started coming out of homes and huddled together at bus stops. I was beginning to wonder why I had came out here at all. It seemed as if I were the only one outside at their own will.

People around here seem surprised every year when it starts to snow. Local news teams spend much of their time reporting on the upcoming weather, incredulous Facebook statuses are posted, and if you are unfortunate enough to have to make small talk with a stranger they always something like, “Can you believe this?”, as they look upward. Well, yes, I can believe it. It’s MidNovember in the Midwest. It’d be more troubling if it weren’t snowing. Still…

I often walk calmly when it rains out while many people run for cover. I feel so in touch with Mother Nature as she sheds tears of joy down on my skin. I guess they just get wet. And I guess that’s why I went out this morning. To give a different gift from Mother another try.

Still… I can’t say that I like the snow. But watching it fall, back in the warm comfort of my bedroom, I can appreciate it’s beauty. But like much in this world, I find this beauty is best appreciated from a distance.


Climbing up the walls
Leaving tracks throughout the halls
Pathways for another day

Off the edge
the fringe of lucidity
hear the calls but can’t
help but ignore it

All the things I do is boring
All the shittalk I hear is boring
These daytodays are boring

Boring boring boring
Boring boring

Boarding the ship
off towards the westward skies
But the anchor won’t budge

Boarded stuck on boring
Boring boring

The Morning Exemplum

You turn around and hit the snooze button on your alarm clock again. You hear a voice tell you that it’s time to wake up and stop procrastinating the inevitable. The voice goes on to list your daily responsibilities and obligations, what to make for breakfast, and mentions how you forgot to pick up coffee creamer the night before.

Then you wonder why there is a voice inside your head dictating everything that you should be thinking.

Now the voice is describing itself being considered by yourself. In other words, you’re thinking about a voice describing you thinking about how it’s describing your thoughts.

So you try and imagine the possibility that the voice is merely a projection of some deep selfconciousness that you weren’t aware of before and will go away if you believe hard enough.

But doing so seems impossible since the voice is now contemplating the fact that it may be a mere prognosis of your imagination and is considering the possibilities that could arise if you kept thinking about it & how it’s a mere imagination & how it is thinking along with you on how to stop its existence.

So you stop and try to make your mind a blind slate to see if the voice stops, and it does.

Are you waiting for the voice to speak or is the voice waiting for you to commit an action for it to dictate on?

You lie back down and pull the covers up to your chin, refusing to make another move. You hear the voice say I would advise against that. So you kick off the sheets and scream as loud as your voice allows, asking what to do next.

The alarm clock sounds for the third time and you shut it up, but this time, you don’t push snooze.