Silas was calling Joe Biden, and everybody that worked for him, a monster.  He really rambled on memorial day, which was today—spouting paranoid jargon about rapists and killers from other countries getting into our country and raping and killing us—as if the white man weren’t doing that, too.  I’d like to reenforce the fact […]

     Once Silas finished up at the tanning bed—something that, in my opinion, had the strange effect of making him look orange, I met with him to discuss what we were going to do about Mary Lou.  Apparently, she’d sort of been making deals with people—people that didn’t use tanning beds, for example—saying that if

     I used to watch Dr. Phil and drink a cheap can of soda pop—I’d make the pop last the whole hour; I knew that I couldn’t go on like that forever—which is why, I think, I looked forward to heaven on earth.  I figured, if I could hold out long enough, something good would

5.19.25: a near finished novel       Kerouac was still present—and, the last time I saw him, he was voicing his opposition to the president of the United States.  He said a lot of things, most of which, to my surprise, sounded meaningful and informed.  Perhaps I’d been too hard on Kerouac; after all, he was