It's Tourist Class I'm Afraid.

In case you'd noticed, the titles of each work generally has pretty much nothing to do with anything.

Boys Do Cry, But I Don’t

10 PM
cleaning out time
dragging bags of waste,
rotting chicken from the stock room
and what appeared to be mold
with bread growing from it,
under the burnt out street lamp
now standing bat-blind in the night

“Fuck Tommy, what are we doin’
is this all we good for
haulin’ shit from here to there”
deftly lighting a cigarette while speaking
“you want a drag
helps ya cope and such”
he offered the glowing cig to me

“Nah man, I ain’t like that”
I say, as I open the dumpster
and arc the bags into it’s gaping mouth

“Don’t smoke, don’t drink
bet you don’t get laid neither”
he said, in between his loving drags
“what the fuck do you do?”

“I haul shit from here to there
and I do it,”
I said distantly
“with class”

I Thought We Were Done Doing Weird Stuff

I like unnatural line breaks, damned if I know why. All the same, here's today's entry, and little to no description before it, you're in luck today it would seem.

Some Days They Have Free Coffee Here

Mid-afternoon and the place reeks
of dust and faux-intellectualism
and I sit alone at a table
pen in hand
scrap of aged construction paper
swiped from the children’s section,
they’d be pissed if they knew
how I was stealing their paper
and sometimes their crayons
and writing the things I write with ‘em

So I sat, and stared at the paper
while staying vaguely aware
of the four-eyed rats who flock here
so they can play up their intellect
and fake that they know
about life and art and beauty
and sometimes they think I’m one of them
when I’m sat alone staring at paper
and they’ll ask me if I’m a writer
and I tell ‘em no
so they ask me if I’m working
and I tell ‘em no
so they ask me if I’m looking to read something
because if I am they’ve got something
which they claim I simply must read
but I tell ‘em no
then they ask why I am here
like I’m intruding on their lives
and I look at ‘em and say

Because some days
they have free coffee here
and they glare and walk off.

And I’m glad to see ‘em go.

Our William Tell Routine

Well, one day in and my goal to write something new everyday is flawless. So here you have it, the first thing I've sat down and forced myself to do. It might not be wonderful, but there are definitely some parts of it I like, and if you're into getting morals out of stories then I encourage you to try and find one here, state what you think it is, and why. Perhaps I'll tell you what I intended later, until then enjoy and I hope to hear what you think.

Herald

The ashen sky remained surprisingly still, only the silky grey clouds lapped at the skyscraper windows, rolling gently, dizzily across the horizon. Below however, the masses were wide-eyed in horror, some prayed, some wept, and most all panicked. Grocery stores were flooded by the fearful flocks of men and women as they packed in crying for canned Corn and Beans at 49 cents per tin.

These crowds subsided eventually as crowds will do, for it may have been the end of days but given the choice, people prefer to die in comfort, curled up on a rug in front of a fire with the dog and wife nervously playing Scrabble. As if by giving Armageddon the cold shoulder it might simply pass them by and wander back into the night sulking like a child.

Minutes ticked by and the city streets they were empty save for one couple, who strolled down the promenade arm in arm, giggling gaily at one of those jests which is so common between lovers. “To you two young fools down there,” shouted a man from a balcony, “do you not know what today is?”

“Of course I do sir,” came the joyful reply, “and what better time to live, as we have yet to die.”

The pair on the street tumbled about with unbounded glee, the man on the balcony merely sighed murmuring that he had tried. As the balcony door shut the skies tore asunder with a great flash of light, and there was silence broken only by laughter.

Some time later, shy as a schoolgirl the light receded blushing pale pink against that grey silken sky. The buildings remained though their tenants were gone, Scrabble words stood half-spelled, and the cans of Corn and Beans so carefully stored in cellars proved to have been a pointless endeavor.

However, one couple smiled at each other as they giggled gaily and strolled along the rest of the promenade.

Hide Your Eyes

Another blog polluting the internet, clogging up this series of tubes or taking up space on the big truck depending on whether Senator Ted Stevens is right or wrong. Worse yet it begins by referencing an outdated meme, sickening really.

All the same, it's started and here to stay. From this point on I'll be attempting to post something new everyday until Summer, though it'll mostly be attempts at short stories, poetry, prose and the like I'll be tossing in reviews of things that ceased being new ages ago and other such things on occasion as well.

I hope you'll join me for the duration of this exercise in futility.