The Jason Pitkin incident:
Nearly a decade passed after the small Upstate town of Liberty New York was shaken from a tragedy in the otherwise peaceful town. Almost all had been forgotten, and those who were uninvolved had their minds on their own life.
Jason Pitkin was a small, scrawny young man. He was pimple-faced and pale skinned. His glasses were thick, wire-rimmed frames, which were too big for his small bony face. His dark brown eyebrows were Continue reading
Just for fun: The Parole Board
Manhattan, wintertime, 1989
I was dressed somewhat warmly with gloves that allowed my fingertips to poke through and stood on a roof—high above Lexington Avenue and faced the downtown of Manhattan. I looked at the far off lights on the bridges that connected the city to Brooklyn and their reflection that glimmered across the East River. I inhaled the cold air to find a moment of easiness. It was amazing to me how peaceful these sight could be—even Continue reading
I sat on a Manhattan bound bus this morning. I pulled my hood up and with my seat tilted slightly back, I leaned my head against the tinted window to watch droplets of freezing rain drizzle down the side of the glass. I watched the street signs and storefronts pass as the bus moved along Route 17. After more than 20 years of commuting from the east, I now make my entrance from the other side of the Hudson River.
I looked ahead to see the Westside of New York City. The tall buildings reached upwards and pushed into the palm of gray clouds. There was something beautiful and quiet to this. I suppose the cold rain and thick clouds looked like a good reason to stay home in bed. Continue reading
I have always wanted to feel good. Even when I behaved badly, I always wanted to feel something so explicitly pure and genuine. I wanted to feel cleansed—I wanted something to overcome and wash me away from myself.
I wanted to feel as if I were good, or healed, as if to absolve the situations in my mind. I wished for it. I wished I could find something to ease the quiet regret that Continue reading
I am soaring through the pulse of your curves and moving through the swerve of your hips with an incredible fascination for your features and the way you make me feel.
I am wondering what it feels like to touch your skin with splashes of ice water in my hand as I press it against your Continue reading
My First Event
I walked through the glossy wooded front door that was set in a gray stoned wall. I was greeted with a smile by a tall, bald headed bouncer with no neck, hefty arms and a chub-face. He was an over sized Irishman in a black shirt with the word “Staff” printed in white lettering across the left side of the chest. “ID please,” asked the bouncer. This was nice because after we break the 40 year age barrier, it is good to be carded at the door of a bar and made to prove that you are in fact over the age of 21.
I was given a band to wrap around my wrist and a red ticket with the actual word, “Ticket” on it, which was printed in black lettering with a random number across the top and bottom edge of the serrated ticket. Continue reading
He stood in front if the mirror to practice his speech. He stared at his own reflection, staring an intense stare into the mirror, looking at himself to shake away the nerves. He was a man in love. Before each rehearsal, he exhaled strongly through clinched lips, rounded as if he could whistle instead of exhale. He directed himself into action and then he preformed. Continue reading
A Way To Play
I am alone, thinking, and sitting in the kind of quiet that makes my eardrums ring because there is nothing else to hear. In times like this, I realize that even silence comes with sound. In the quietest of times and in the absence of others, I can hear nothing but the high-pitched tone of an empty room.
I guess I might as well write about something . . .
Melany came through the Continue reading
Heavy rain falls in waves upon the roof of my house. I swear this sound is the opposite of an alarm clock. Teams of raindrops run down my rooftop like little footsteps running in big gymnasium. The dull roar of this pitter pattering on my roof, the chattering raindrops that hit my skylight above my head, and the droplets of rainwater that roll down the bay window in my loft; the view outside—the gray sky, the hardly swaying tree branches that move in a gentle rainy wind and the empty street known as Spook Rock are all so peaceful and quiet.
Today is Sunday.
The rain changes intensity and Continue reading
After the long, uncomfortable hours in the precinct with angry desk cops and detectives, and after the questions that came while being handcuffed to the side of a gray-painted steel desk in a small detective’s office—after the yelling cops screamed, “Tell us what you did,” and after the detectives smacked me around, beat me, and played their version of good cop/bad cop; after the several rounds of different accusations and the phone call home to alert my parents of my arrest, the alcohol in my system gave way to the sobering moment that I was caught. I sitting behind a chain-linked fence on a wooden bench with my left wrist handcuffed to a pipe that ran beneath the seating.
After the hours of processing, and the trip to a holding facility where I went through the normal Continue reading
The Written Addiction 