2010
Long nights under cloudless skies and I was a ticking time bomb ready to blow at a moments notice until you clipped the red wire and set me off. My heart bursted like a water balloon on pavement and I was sweating bullets. The sky never looked so beautiful as it did that night, there in my flatscreen picture window playing the same show over and over again as cars passed by at a snails pace. We sat there long and hard, with nothing to separate us but a patchwork pillow of earth tones and all of my insecurities, choking me up and leaving me breathless. I've had a green thumb ever since that night, playing gardener and planting our seeds in the soil, watering them, nurturing them so that we can grow together, intertwined at the roots.
-Kevin James Whetstone
1996
I cried harder than I had ever cried before. I told my father I would never get in that truck as he was throwing the last of my bags into the rusted out red flatbed of his old Chevy Silverado. My brother and I used to call that truck "The Beast" because it sat on huge tires and when we rode in it we were sitting as high as Truckers in their comfort cabs that they call home for most of the year. Riding in it alongside my father was always one of the biggest thrills for me, and it almost always assured me a free soda and Nachos from York's local 7-11. I used to sit like an excited puppy when it's owner grabs the leash every time I would hear the jingle of those keys as my father pulled them from the hook that hung low below cabinets of fine china in our kitchen. Not this day though. I wouldn't go this time, I was sure of it. Bryan was there. Brendan too. My best friends since I could remember. They shared my first birthday cake that I actually recall. They were cowboys to my indian. Batman and Robin to my Joker. They were how I spent every sunny day in my childhood paradise. I had it all in York. I had A basketball court and lived two minutes from the local pool. I had the best friends I could ask for and spent every day searching out new adventures in the depths of my intricate mind.
-Kevin James Whetstone
2001
I sat in a passenger seat, biting my nails. angry and frustrated to be torn away from everything i had known for as long as i had existed. apprehensive, relocating to a state i couldn't place on a blank map. with thoughts of overalls and chewing tobacco flooding my young head. "these people must be bored out of their minds," i thought as we passed open field upon open fields. with wire looking fixtures i later learned were called "pivots." little did i know that this state held the most beautiful souls my soul has ever encountered. people i'd take a bullet for in a second. hearts that i'd sew to my own. it didn't take long before i immersed myself in the welcoming spirits. spirituality in others, my religion became hills and corn rows taller than my head. my mantra was "the good life." my creed are my people, and my people are my life, and my life is beautiful.
-trace adam lewis
12
Slippery dead dogs are floating down a river.
-Holden Oliver Armstrong
2002
I was getting fitted for my first tux. I was chubby and I sucked in my gut like when I was a kid and I held my breath under water, trying desperately to outlast my friends. I was scared. Sex was a complicated algebra problem on a chalkboard and I was standing in front of the judgmental eyes of my teacher and the heckling of classmates with chalkdust lining my fingertips and sweat on my brow. I was lost. The pants were uncomfortable and i don't even want to start on how cramped and stiff the shoes were. I was supposed to dance in this? My mom smiled wider than the potholes that littered this town, the ones that would make the pavement scrape the fender and cause my father to cringe. She was happy, this was a moment she was waiting for. She bought a 3 pack of disposable cameras and vacuumed the carpet twice. everything had to be perfect for her darling boy, so handsome in his suit and tie. The corvette was a stick-shift, another math problem I couldn't comprehend. My father spent hours on gravel roads with an old Ford Ranger my neighbor owned showing me how to tame the six cylinder machine I held the reigns to, but much like every test I had studied hours for in the fluorescent glow of my desk lamp, the minute the time came to apply my knowledge I froze up, and my mind became a a code even the most skilled hacker could never crack. I killed it twice on the way to the dance. I stepped on my dates foot more times than I can remember whilst shuffling around the dance floor like a stiff corpse. Her gaze was warm. She smiled at me, even as she groaned beneath the weight of my lead foot, she smiled. When all was said and done, my jacket was a rumpled mess in the backseat and my tie was lost in the breeze out that corvette window. We drove home in the silence of heartfelt smiles and the palest glow of a waning crescent moon, and me, I couldn't have felt higher in my life. Everest couldn't touch me. I dropped her off at home and she kissed me hard. Driving home I thought about steering that corvette into the next vehicle I saw.
- Kevin James Whetstone
2003
I was alone. It was dark. I had no idea what to do next. Take a left? Take a right? It's not like it really mattered anyway. I was in this town, and I knew one person -- only one -- who wouldn't turn me in. It was a fucking trip, and I was rolling in it. If it hadn't been for that library and that column to sleep against, with the shadows blocking me behind a hill, the street lamps keeping my secrets, the papers in my bag keeping my thoughts straight, I might have died there that night ... actually, I probably would have made it out alive. I always do, I always will. As long as I could breathe, I could make it, and that's why dying is so dramatic. Life is even more so. I think I wrote something along those lines that night, and it changed everything.
- Kara A. Flaherty
2004
Stare at the stars, they are clear tonight. Clearer than anything you've ever said, anything that's ever escaped your mind and went straight to your mouth. No filters. Do you remember where we were? Yeah, me neither. The only thing that sticks out in my mind is the fact that you still had coke under your fingernails. Six years and counting.
- Kara A. Flaherty
2010
Look at you. You are beautiful.
- Kara A. Flaherty
2010
Chan wrote something here once. He made gratuitous use of the delete key. "Damn you, Deltron! Damn youuu!" they screamed.
-Ryan Deltron Simonson
2010
I can still hear his stern voice. "Walk for me," he said, the slightest smirk on his face giving way to the pleasure he was getting out of this. I stumble. "AGAIN!" he almost shouts, his smugness radiating like the sun when the clouds are scarce and the wind is nonexistent. It was freezing. The coldest day of the year, the worst night of my life summed up into 3 letters...D.U.I.
Long nights under cloudless skies and I was a ticking time bomb ready to blow at a moments notice until you clipped the red wire and set me off. My heart bursted like a water balloon on pavement and I was sweating bullets. The sky never looked so beautiful as it did that night, there in my flatscreen picture window playing the same show over and over again as cars passed by at a snails pace. We sat there long and hard, with nothing to separate us but a patchwork pillow of earth tones and all of my insecurities, choking me up and leaving me breathless. I've had a green thumb ever since that night, playing gardener and planting our seeds in the soil, watering them, nurturing them so that we can grow together, intertwined at the roots.
-Kevin James Whetstone
1996
I cried harder than I had ever cried before. I told my father I would never get in that truck as he was throwing the last of my bags into the rusted out red flatbed of his old Chevy Silverado. My brother and I used to call that truck "The Beast" because it sat on huge tires and when we rode in it we were sitting as high as Truckers in their comfort cabs that they call home for most of the year. Riding in it alongside my father was always one of the biggest thrills for me, and it almost always assured me a free soda and Nachos from York's local 7-11. I used to sit like an excited puppy when it's owner grabs the leash every time I would hear the jingle of those keys as my father pulled them from the hook that hung low below cabinets of fine china in our kitchen. Not this day though. I wouldn't go this time, I was sure of it. Bryan was there. Brendan too. My best friends since I could remember. They shared my first birthday cake that I actually recall. They were cowboys to my indian. Batman and Robin to my Joker. They were how I spent every sunny day in my childhood paradise. I had it all in York. I had A basketball court and lived two minutes from the local pool. I had the best friends I could ask for and spent every day searching out new adventures in the depths of my intricate mind.
-Kevin James Whetstone
2001
I sat in a passenger seat, biting my nails. angry and frustrated to be torn away from everything i had known for as long as i had existed. apprehensive, relocating to a state i couldn't place on a blank map. with thoughts of overalls and chewing tobacco flooding my young head. "these people must be bored out of their minds," i thought as we passed open field upon open fields. with wire looking fixtures i later learned were called "pivots." little did i know that this state held the most beautiful souls my soul has ever encountered. people i'd take a bullet for in a second. hearts that i'd sew to my own. it didn't take long before i immersed myself in the welcoming spirits. spirituality in others, my religion became hills and corn rows taller than my head. my mantra was "the good life." my creed are my people, and my people are my life, and my life is beautiful.
-trace adam lewis
12
Slippery dead dogs are floating down a river.
-Holden Oliver Armstrong
2002
I was getting fitted for my first tux. I was chubby and I sucked in my gut like when I was a kid and I held my breath under water, trying desperately to outlast my friends. I was scared. Sex was a complicated algebra problem on a chalkboard and I was standing in front of the judgmental eyes of my teacher and the heckling of classmates with chalkdust lining my fingertips and sweat on my brow. I was lost. The pants were uncomfortable and i don't even want to start on how cramped and stiff the shoes were. I was supposed to dance in this? My mom smiled wider than the potholes that littered this town, the ones that would make the pavement scrape the fender and cause my father to cringe. She was happy, this was a moment she was waiting for. She bought a 3 pack of disposable cameras and vacuumed the carpet twice. everything had to be perfect for her darling boy, so handsome in his suit and tie. The corvette was a stick-shift, another math problem I couldn't comprehend. My father spent hours on gravel roads with an old Ford Ranger my neighbor owned showing me how to tame the six cylinder machine I held the reigns to, but much like every test I had studied hours for in the fluorescent glow of my desk lamp, the minute the time came to apply my knowledge I froze up, and my mind became a a code even the most skilled hacker could never crack. I killed it twice on the way to the dance. I stepped on my dates foot more times than I can remember whilst shuffling around the dance floor like a stiff corpse. Her gaze was warm. She smiled at me, even as she groaned beneath the weight of my lead foot, she smiled. When all was said and done, my jacket was a rumpled mess in the backseat and my tie was lost in the breeze out that corvette window. We drove home in the silence of heartfelt smiles and the palest glow of a waning crescent moon, and me, I couldn't have felt higher in my life. Everest couldn't touch me. I dropped her off at home and she kissed me hard. Driving home I thought about steering that corvette into the next vehicle I saw.
- Kevin James Whetstone
2003
I was alone. It was dark. I had no idea what to do next. Take a left? Take a right? It's not like it really mattered anyway. I was in this town, and I knew one person -- only one -- who wouldn't turn me in. It was a fucking trip, and I was rolling in it. If it hadn't been for that library and that column to sleep against, with the shadows blocking me behind a hill, the street lamps keeping my secrets, the papers in my bag keeping my thoughts straight, I might have died there that night ... actually, I probably would have made it out alive. I always do, I always will. As long as I could breathe, I could make it, and that's why dying is so dramatic. Life is even more so. I think I wrote something along those lines that night, and it changed everything.
- Kara A. Flaherty
2004
Stare at the stars, they are clear tonight. Clearer than anything you've ever said, anything that's ever escaped your mind and went straight to your mouth. No filters. Do you remember where we were? Yeah, me neither. The only thing that sticks out in my mind is the fact that you still had coke under your fingernails. Six years and counting.
- Kara A. Flaherty
2010
Look at you. You are beautiful.
- Kara A. Flaherty
2010
Chan wrote something here once. He made gratuitous use of the delete key. "Damn you, Deltron! Damn youuu!" they screamed.
-Ryan Deltron Simonson
2010
I can still hear his stern voice. "Walk for me," he said, the slightest smirk on his face giving way to the pleasure he was getting out of this. I stumble. "AGAIN!" he almost shouts, his smugness radiating like the sun when the clouds are scarce and the wind is nonexistent. It was freezing. The coldest day of the year, the worst night of my life summed up into 3 letters...D.U.I.
-Kevin James Whetstone
1998
It's hot and arid. The ocean is too far away to moisten my bones and I'm quite simply dehydrated. Step out of the grey suburban and drink in the pounding sunlight, thrumming and methodical in its pounding regularity. So much closer to the equator than any human should ever be and observe as a child no older than 6 digs through a pile of refuse in search of their next meal. No person deserves this, I no longer believe in a god. What sick masochistic kind of god could we possibly believe in should this sort of thing go on right underneath his nose. He sees everything, right? RIGHT? Maybe not. Maybe he's a half-blind rubbish god. Something that should be included in a fucking pantheon with other gods that look at him like the downs kid and just smile and nod whenever he tries something omnipotent; if not, then we have most certainly failed. You believe in that asshole? Oh right, he simply reinforces your feelings of entitlement to your birth status, and if your birth status sucks, then he simply makes you feel as if you deserved it all along. No. Spirituality is the lazy person's excuse for vehement religion and I willn't stand for it ever again. Tell me you're spiritual rather than religious and I will punch you in the face as you're simply replacing words and thinking that it makes some sort of difference in the cataclysmic reality that we call life. Continue slithering around without eyes like some sort of cave creature all you like but don't be surprised when someone who has rid themselves of the bounds of a phenomena invented by humans shows you reality, life unfettered and the possibility of self. Alone. Become the instrument of your own destruction and that of your enemies. Forward not in.
-Joel T. Roos
1994
i'm young, with blond hair and scraped knees from crashing my light blue huffy. chain-link runs the length of our house on san bernardino ave. i can still remember the address, 18544 san bernardino ave, bloomington, california, 92316. i could run faster than anybody in the world. i can still remember my phone number 909-873-8425. dad bought an above ground pool. my brother and i tipped the swingset over once, and after we regained the wind that'd been knocked out of us, we let out our laughs. eric and i fought like siblings fight, and i'd kick him hard in the shins, then run for my life.
1998
It's hot and arid. The ocean is too far away to moisten my bones and I'm quite simply dehydrated. Step out of the grey suburban and drink in the pounding sunlight, thrumming and methodical in its pounding regularity. So much closer to the equator than any human should ever be and observe as a child no older than 6 digs through a pile of refuse in search of their next meal. No person deserves this, I no longer believe in a god. What sick masochistic kind of god could we possibly believe in should this sort of thing go on right underneath his nose. He sees everything, right? RIGHT? Maybe not. Maybe he's a half-blind rubbish god. Something that should be included in a fucking pantheon with other gods that look at him like the downs kid and just smile and nod whenever he tries something omnipotent; if not, then we have most certainly failed. You believe in that asshole? Oh right, he simply reinforces your feelings of entitlement to your birth status, and if your birth status sucks, then he simply makes you feel as if you deserved it all along. No. Spirituality is the lazy person's excuse for vehement religion and I willn't stand for it ever again. Tell me you're spiritual rather than religious and I will punch you in the face as you're simply replacing words and thinking that it makes some sort of difference in the cataclysmic reality that we call life. Continue slithering around without eyes like some sort of cave creature all you like but don't be surprised when someone who has rid themselves of the bounds of a phenomena invented by humans shows you reality, life unfettered and the possibility of self. Alone. Become the instrument of your own destruction and that of your enemies. Forward not in.
-Joel T. Roos
1994
i'm young, with blond hair and scraped knees from crashing my light blue huffy. chain-link runs the length of our house on san bernardino ave. i can still remember the address, 18544 san bernardino ave, bloomington, california, 92316. i could run faster than anybody in the world. i can still remember my phone number 909-873-8425. dad bought an above ground pool. my brother and i tipped the swingset over once, and after we regained the wind that'd been knocked out of us, we let out our laughs. eric and i fought like siblings fight, and i'd kick him hard in the shins, then run for my life.
-trace adam lewis
2001
Look at him, sitting there in his matchbox car with a quivering lip, counting out the stars cut from paper sky like birdshit on fresh asphalt.
Look at him, sitting there in his matchbox car with a quivering lip, counting out the stars cut from paper sky like birdshit on fresh asphalt.
-Kevin James Whetstone
Fascinating. Where did this all come from?
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