Wake up. The air smells like shit. A skunk took a dump in my boots. On the way to the coffee shop, a podcast tells me I can be rich. Me, Trent Lewin, a rich man with no worries. I like it. I really do. “What would you like?” asks…
Jin-Soo taps an apple with the golf club. It flies over the sidewalk and onto the lawn, rolls for a bit, disappears into a hole. He shuffles backwards a step, takes aim at another apple, and swings. It vanishes too. The sidewalk is getting cleaner, he thinks. Above him, a crab apple tree…
Ah America. How are you? My name is Trent Lewin. I’m not a doctor or anything, but I have been known to heal the masses upon occasion. So I turn my attention to you, the confused and the enraged, and I choose to cuddle up with your enormous posteriors to offer advice as best I…
T-minus 3 days. But I suck at math, so let me back up. You’re surprised? Shouldn’t be. T-minus 5 days. There we go. In the hallway with Annette Benig’s twin sister. No kidding. She’s leans in. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I want to suck on her nose. “Nope,” I tell…
A pressing, distressing narrative this is not. It’s 1570 Spain, and I’m a missionary building a church in the middle of the forest. It’s 1960 southern United States and I’m a policeman shining the beam on a tree, and its leaves, as the sky shines bright with stars and people sing in the distance,…
You didn’t clean up before you got in the car and drove away. But I did. I stayed. You didn’t call when you got to the bar, and didn’t save me a seat, even though I asked if you could. I called, and you didn’t pick up. I sat in the kitchen and ate…
Jacob is a hat-builder. He makes hats for people with heads of all sizes. Some heads are round, others pointed, and now and then a head presents itself that is misshapen in some notable way, by cleft or protrusion – in any case, some condition that requires a mastery of hat-building. Jacob builds…
