Posts Tagged ‘Shopping’


photo by Melvin Cartagena

Answers Without Questions

By Mel Cartagena

To: benwayd@hinterlands.org

Cc:

Subject: Answers without questions

Doc:

Don’t hear from you anymore ever since you got transferred to forensic pathology. Either the work is so easy you don’t want to share the gravy train with me, or you’re too busy to send me a social email.

Either way, that’s what I’m writing to you about. In doing some spring cleaning over here I came across this document. It looks like one of your former cases.

The content looks like the answers to a Q & A session that never took place, about things that never happened, except for the part about the fatal beating of William Rhodell.

It was among the notes of your one of your most famous cases, the one that almost killed his girlfriend, and beat to death that private investigator she hired to find him, who it turns out she was having an affair with. The things people do. I bring it to your attention because it’s interesting to see how he’s created a saga of paranoia and mind control over a case of marital infidelity. And it looks like you figure prominently in these fantasies.    (more…)


Gold, Silver and Bronze

Growing up being exposed to as much Hollywood propaganda as I have, it comes as little surprise that when it comes to women, I am pretty superficial.  If all the years I spent watching Beverly Hills 90210 has taught me anything, it’s that good looking people have all the fun, interesting stories.  Though I was never really part of the “in” crowd when in High School or College, I have found myself somewhat fortunate to have dated some of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.

Bronze (more…)


i sprung it out of the dung yesterday morning

The  heady’s were mourning, no hurting any more, just ketamine and open needle sores

Her  heart poured into my pimp chalice for hours until our mouths melted

into each other’s salvia incidents,

laced with way to much acid and amphetamines snorted over the tips of switch blade match sticks

(more…)


Humanity

wants to put

you into a

work uniform, (more…)


I knew a boy who
would hide as traffic drove-by 

a boy who melted Darth Vader in the oven

I knew a boy that collected (more…)


 

Camphor

………………..

I walked alone until I had eaten all of the bio-luminescent thoughts I could find. At the end of it there was a wall with graffiti in a dead language and marginally living translator clutching a rat in his one good hand. My heart stopped beating for two bars during the crescendo and I caught a cab deep into the Alphabet, so deep even the  cops wouldn’t follow without self contained breathing apparatus and pressure suits. No room for pastry means cranky partisans clamoring for the good old days when men were men and sometimes women like the aged Mr Fitzgerald in his off the shoulder and a dashing pair of red pumps. (more…)


Night at the Fresh Factor

Thursday night, 4:37 pm, in the dairy freezer of the Fresh Factor supermarket in College Point, Queens.  Joey DiSpirito is seated on a crate of Edy’s Slow-Churned French Vanilla and takes the joint that is passed to him by Gavin O’Flaherty.  Gavin is only a few years older than Joey, but he’s worked here forever, is a burn-out and doesn’t give a damn about anything.  Joey doesn’t want to idolize Gavin, because the guy has no ideas and has nothing going for him, but right now the way Gavin is casually dealing with the joint as if this frigid icebox with its crates of dairy products stacked everywhere was his own backyard is deserving of praise. (more…)


 

Gun metal tongue fucker

with a stainless steel vein perforater

trigger fingered block stalkin concrete limp

Soul seller cellar dweller (more…)


“Total dedication,”

The synthetic voice stretched over the airwaves. Each radio would then allow it’s listener the pleasure of being christened by Rick Robertson, who slouched in his ragged swivel chair for the twelfth year in a row. Rick would then say “total devotion,” in his raspy signature voice which would then be followed by a series of drum machines and guitar bends. Then one brief ad by a local sponsor. Charles New, The Accident Lawyer. His voice was much smoother. More delicate. (more…)


 

Ar 13

I got all dressed up today to smoke a cigarette.

there’s no food in the cupboard.

I’m thinking about buying a goat, but according to fucking Mark, they’re more then 50 bones. (more…)