At some point between co-hosting April’s FBomb flash fiction reading at its new venue, The Roxy, and listening to me ramble Jack-n-Coke-ally on about Pinyon Jays later at her hotel bar, Meg Tuite, Santa Fe editor, poet, and flash-fictioneer, whose work has, according to her website, remarkably appeared “in over 600 literary magazines,” handed meContinue reading “What the Fuck is Going On?: A Review of Meg Tuite’s “White Van””
They were just standing there near my pump, looking like something from an earlier era of The West. Vests, belts, boots – all leather. Flannels, buckles, blue jeans – all faded. Hats, side-burns, mustaches – all huge. There was probably a sixshooter in there somewhere. There was probably a horse&saddle just over there. “Uh oh,”Continue reading “Latest from Book of Nothing: “Two Cowboys at an Arizona Gas Station during the Youknow…””
Sometimes on the weekends I’d be driving cab so late that all the drunks had gotten home and it had become the next day. And then I’d get a DIA trip. It would mean another 50 minutes there and 50 minutes back, but it would also mean another 100 bucks, so I couldn’t pass itContinue reading “Latest from Book of Nothing: “Sleepy Cab””
I very fluidly strolled into the bank to get laundry money. There was no line, and I was able to go right up to the teller. “Quarters,” I said. “How much?” he asked. “Ten bucks,” I said without missing a beat. I had two five-dollar bills all ready to go. They slipped effortlessly from myContinue reading “Latest from Book of Nothing: “Complete Success/Total Failure””
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