March 21, 2013
The Aisle


(Aka The (Tr)AisleKafka meets the self-checkout of the future. As tweeted via Seedpod Publishing)

March 18, 2012
All Around the Apiary (Nikotan)

From Tsuki #6, October 2012. Annotations here

A bee as bulbous as the sun as bulbous as the gas tank it whizzes around, its company mascot an emoticon smiling down upon Yu Honda’s field, the colours of which it loses itself in through one fell swoop. Buzz zurr…

There walks Yu Honda, arm-in-arm with Yoko, cowed like her by the sun and general wear & tear as they cross through the apiary to a small cabin. This outpost of theirs is a little shack by the field’s white wooden perimeter, small and unassuming unlike the chunky metal and wire surrounding the pea-green gas sphere.

Yu presses upon a few of the knocked out posts which show where the break-ins occurred, Yoko unlocking the door to the cabin. Inside is nothing but a little light and two blue sleeping bags flat upon the floor, along with two small oak chairs, which Yu carries outside and places by the door.

The two take their places and take the other’s hand, looking out onto the field. It’s just them and the tank and the world, and me, the Bee Who Saw It All. Buzz zurr.

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March 16, 2012

An elegiacomo exclusive, xoxo is a short sequel of sorts to my novel Red Trick, a book I wrote in 2007 that finally found publication February 2012. Consider it a catch-up session with the book’s main character MC Red Trick (aka Freddy) at the age of 26.

xoxo (seven years later)

Buster Keaton is blacked up in paint, on the run from the long truncheon of the law.  He ducks round a corner, losing the fat flatfoot who then bumps into a black handyman walking down the street. Freddy can already feel the two guys from work shift uncomfortably on the bunk bed apparatus they’re sharing, so decides to laugh so everyone can feel fine, where really he would have smiled and shaken his head. He looks up at the busy glass floor above, and almost gets an upskirt view right above where he’s sitting.

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March 8, 2012
Tarahumara (Strap it on)

From the Midnight Train anthology, February 2012. Annotations here

The dream would follow the same pattern all summer. I’d be seated on the train to work, riding the westbound route of the Northern Line. It was my normal morning trip, though the carriage seemed a little emptier than normal, and the scarf wrapped up over my chin meant it must have been winter above ground. In my stare: my foot, shaking, with both of my legs crossed as inconsiderately as usual. On my right: a man holding the Metro, but I could only see the front page, a blind spot for the brain, with its photograph and headline as indistinct as the reader’s face.

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