Posts Tagged ‘J.A. O’Sullivan’
So where are we?
“We’re at Tranquil.”
Wasn’t that a moon landing base?
“That was tranquility base. Keep up, brochaho.”
Seriously, why are you talking to me?
“I’m starting to wonder that myself.”
Filed under: Short fiction | 4 Comments
Tags: flash fiction, J.A. O'Sullivan
Filed under: Casper Journal, Welcome to Wyoming | Leave a Comment
Tags: casper journal, J.A. O'Sullivan, wyoming
The first boxing lesson left me reeling: spent, edgy and up in the clouds. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion, discovering the muscles you didn’t know you have, learning the reality between a movie punch and a boxing punch.
Filed under: Boxing | 4 Comments
Tags: boxing, J.A. O'Sullivan
Don’t fuck it up.
I won’t fuck it up.
Grab the tail and help me push him in.
How do you know it’s a him?
It’s a him. Didn’t you look?
Filed under: fiction | 1 Comment
Tags: fiction, J.A. O'Sullivan
Since I spend inordinate amounts of time dwelling on my own mortality anyway, 30 hasn’t come with much sticker shock. [the only recurring thought is whether the next decade will be as bizarre and twisting as the last.] Nonetheless, waking up Sunday morning I felt the need to prove my divine youth to the world. […]
Filed under: Casper Journal, Fate, Photography | 1 Comment
Tags: Fate, J.A. O'Sullivan, wyoming
Filed under: Welcome to Wyoming | Leave a Comment
Tags: J.A. O'Sullivan, welcoming to wyoming
An SDSU student died yesterday and Gregory Isaacs died yesterday and I’m sitting outside the library jacking their wireless and listening to the latter while musing on the former. Life is a lottery and Aaron Hohwiler lost: dead at age 20. Isaacs made it to 59, though his teeth fell out from smoking crack, and ended his singing career some years back.
Filed under: Fate | Leave a Comment
Tags: death, J.A. O'Sullivan
Earlier, he’d been dreaming up ad jingles. Oil: graffiti for the ocean, was his favorite. Another, Black stuff only a dead seagull could love, he liked while admitting it didn’t make any particular sense. There was a third suitable slogan, but it was now forgotten as he approached the shore. He had decided to throw […]
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Tags: fiction, fireworks, J.A. O'Sullivan, oil, short story
Psychic chickenwire. As Gary strung the cds in lines across the balcony, that’s what filled his mind. He wondered what a bird would think when it saw a trillion sunbeams shooting from Metallica’s Black album. Say you prayers, little one. Nothing if not organized, Gary classified each row by genre. Rap and hip-hop, jazz, punk, […]
Filed under: Short fiction | 2 Comments
Tags: fiction, J.A. O'Sullivan, psyhic