Trasladaron a mi tía, que ya es coronel, de los páramos a la jungla. Un pueblo a tres horas de Bogotá. Tres horas lejos de nosotros, en un lugar donde se pega la ropa del sudor y las piernas se cubren de ronchas por los mosquitos. Cuando me dijeron que mi tía y mi primo […]
Creative Fiction
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En Español: Get in the trunk
Pueblo chico El piloto había parado sin entusiasmo al verme hacerle señas desde un lugar de la carretera donde solo podría encontrarse un fugitivo o un fantasma. Kilómetros de desierto alrededor. Su trajinado Ford llevaba los muelles traseros elevados para que los vigilantes no detectaran la sobrecarga, y esa mañana candente la sobrecarga tocaba ser […]
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Hot Tin Roof: Wedding in Galena
We drive down blackjack road, thin and winding, hemmed by the woven trunks of trees and a sheer drop.
“It’s a beautiful town,” he says. “All these trees. The hills. The view.”
“I wonder if that’s why Nate and Matt picked it.”
No house lights. No streetlights. Only one working headlight on Fat Van.
(And it’s quiet. When was the last time we were anywhere quiet?)
Posted inArts & Entertainment, Hot Tin Roof
Hot Tin Roof: Public Service Announcement
Underwires: you’re
wearing them wrong!
You’re wearing the wrong
size the wrong way. For starters,
the band, not the straps, provides
primary support. For second, as any
mammographer knows, your breast tissue
extends halfway under your armpit, and as
the nice lady at La Petite Coquette in Union
Square will tell you, all that should be in your bra.
Grab the underwire under your arm with your near-
est hand while, with the other inside the cup (“May
I?”), pull your breast forward (NOT up!) and then (la
coup de grâce) tug gently on the outer cup edge to
situate. “And you’re in,” she affirms. “Your tits
should salute.” Well, hello there. A swell of
cleavage where never there was. I’m harn-
essed and ready to battle the city streets.
(If you’re now spilling out, go up a
cup size.) But rather than flaunt
my rank among the select few
with salutatory boobs, I here-
by bequeath this sacred
knowledge to you. And for
the record, underwires do
not cause breast cancer.
Posted inArts & Entertainment
The Early Tears with Vic Pasternak: Lesson #13 — The last ride
The first time I quit cab driving, I figured it was my last — but I ended up quitting three (technically four) times after that. I might again. My first last shift was on a hot night in May. School was done and traffic was thin; everybody was moving out. It was time for me […]
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The Early Tears with Vic Pasternak: Lesson #12 — Mississippi Fred McDowell makes for a good night
Some nights are made lucky. For instance, the dayshift driver left a blues CD in the pleasure radio. Blues ain’t really my thing, but for whatever reason this set grabbed me. I even pulled the disc out to look at the name markered on it, then slid the disc back in. Just one dude playing […]
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The Early Tears with Vic Pasternak: Lesson #11 — Sometimes it’s best to pass up a good deal
Lyle stayed at the far end of 9th Street, out at 23rd Ave. He had a tic. He would gasp and catch a hand on his face like he might sneeze. The frequency and depth of his gasping would become pronounced as he got excited, which was often. He was peculiarly particular, an older gentleman, […]
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The Early Tears with Vic Pasternak: Lesson #10 — The one who got away
Sheraton circle, 0245 hours and two young lasses, one of whom began to dribble vomit as she plunked down. “Take it outside the cab.” Her friend asked, “Will you wait for us?” “I said take it outside the cab.” I was getting better at knowing who was going to puke, and when. I was also […]
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The Early Tears with Vic Pasternak: Lesson #9 — And Babel is the traffic of Language
#23. Maintain your lane. Dominate it. Most drivers aren’t paying attention. Take advantage of this and look the fuck out. #24. Drive off-center of the driver in front of you so as to see a direct angle of the traffic lanes ahead. If you can’t get an angle, look through their windshield. Try to get […]
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Mouths 12: Fleeing
“Mouths” is a fiction story presented in installments. This is the final chapter; read from the beginning, starting here. Mouths XII: Fleeing I don’t hear the bullet pass by me. It doesn’t hit Sheila. He must have aimed at my back. The mouths must have gotten it. I smile. This is good to know. But […]
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Mouths 11: Fighting
“Mouths” is a fiction story presented in installments. Look for a new chapter on Mondays throughout the summer. (We’re almost at the end, now — but the fear started creeping in back in June.) Mouths XI: Fighting I have no real animosity toward the woman. Like me, like Sheila, she was pushed into an unimaginably […]
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Mouths 10: Leaving
“Mouths” is a fiction story presented in installments. Look for a new chapter on Mondays throughout the summer. (Perhaps you would like to start at the beginning?) Mouths X: Leaving The world feels different as I walk up the stairs. My muscles are more obedient to my will, more responsive. It feels, ironically, as if […]
