Squallitaire

“Can you spare some change, please Sir?”

Llanna

From the journals of Poet Anon on the lost glory of Whelm.

Century of Sensuality

Continuing adventures in the gutter of Hollywood’s Golden Era, Episode 15

Beast of Rage

Continuing adventures in the gutter of Hollywood’s Golden Era, Episode 13

The Impossible Legend of Ken

B-Movie #12

Hollywood 1953:

Sergei is going for a different approach. Eleven scripts in four years. Eleven rejected scripts. Maybe two hundred rejections. It’s getting hard to take. The boss at Harvey’s Wash-a-teria wants Sergei to concentrate on his career in laundry. He’s had the Schwinn company bicycle serviced. He’s bought new uniforms and staff badges. He wants Sergei to prepare himself for a promotion. He says: You gotta hunker down, boy. He says: Don’t get hung up on the wrong track. He says: Put in a good shift, and then put in another good shift. Laundromat is made for you. You are made for laundromat.

Repossession

Ah bin Poe Zest. Nammit. Ah got me sum kinda rockin devil in me, sum kinda Garr Hool. Ahma kinda Zom Bee or sum Go Lem or sump else likewise. Sweet Jheesu.

∞

Now, that’s an approximation. Bo Vaxxine isn’t always easy to translate, and the feeling – the signal, the reception – is stronger or weaker at different times. Bo wants me to learn the banjo and sing a little to help with the flow. If I put The Groupies or Link Wray or some such hillbilly on the grammy he goes hog-wild.  Sometimes gets a real hold on me and makes me dance a jerky, manic kind of dance. Caught my eyes in the mirror once while I was shaking around. Them big round eyes looked mighty terror-full. That ain’t no real word, a course, but Bo Vaxxine sure gotta speak fo’ me sometime.

Here I go again.