THE DEEP SOUTH-
At the break in the cinder block wall there was a red dirt hill, tall as the pinewood balconies behind the apartments where my daddy lived.
By R Kent
PARIS-
Vietnam is a burgeoning country, rich in history, an exciting mix of western and Asian cultures, one full of picturesque countryside and vibrant cities.
It is this Vietnam I wrote several articles about upon my return, submitting them to travel publications.
Isabelle and I had an incredible honeymoon in Vietnam, beginning with a relaxing week on the island of Phu Quoc in the Gulf of Thailand, then working our way from Ho Chi Minh City in the south up through the country to the north, finishing on New Year’s Day in Hanoi.
We love the fact that we chose Vietnam as the place to celebrate our marriage, and we’d do it again.
And maybe in the future, I’ll post some of those nice articles I wrote.
But right now I’m giving an alternate view of Vietnam. (more…)
MADRID-
So there I was, one-testicle deep in the world of Spanish porn, unsure as to how I got there.
It began back in October of 2005 when I saw an article in El Mundo (a right-leaning major daily periodical) and a full-page ad in a reputable national music magazine for Follar Tour: La Gira del Infierno (Fuck Tour: The Tour from Hell).
According the website and ads, an entourage of real people—which ostensibly means people who aren’t porn stars—tour various cities throughout Spain and Portugal and engage in coitus on stage or within roped-off areas as the public looked on en masse.
LOS ANGELES, CA-
Pretty much all my life I’ve been a dog person
Growing up
There’s always been one breed or another
In my house
A. Mutt: Part Collie / Part German shepherd
B. Samoyed Husky
C. Shetland Collie (more…)
SANTA FE, NM-
I shifted from fourth gear to third as I ditched a Santa Fe strip-mall street for the steep grind of uneven asphalt that split a west-side mesa into two snowy halves. My young son, 9, leaned against the door, sketch pad on lap. His hand knew the routine, knew our unkempt roads meant his spaceships sported jagged edges. (more…)
SALT LAKE CITY, UT-
Last week, I gave my two-weeks’ notice to my current employer.
It’s something I’d been considering for awhile. The constant multitasking was making my brain hurt, and I was getting burnt out on tech support, and feeling like I needed a change, and thinking I should be employed at a place that offered its employees more retirement benefits, and …
SEATTLE, WA-
They say that broken bones can heal themselves to become stronger than they ever were before. People claim that this is especially true for children, as their developing bodies will refuse to let a little fracture impede their growth.
By R Kent
PARIS-
She wore a dress of the whitest white.
Over it, a gossamer-thin coat, with feather-strewn hood, created a film of faux snow falling about her body.
From under her hood, her brown hair tumbled over her shoulders, wavy and curled.
She looked like a princess in a Russian skazka.
As she and her father walked arm in arm down the aisle, all eyes in the church were on her.
And I tried to figure out just how I should be standing… (more…)
SACRAMENTO, CA-
I’m having a full body tune-up in the coming weeks.
I’ve got to get things in order before I’m out of a job, out of money and out of health insurance.
I went to the optometrist yesterday (one of my eyes has deteriorated to near blindness).
I got some cavities filled today at the dentist.
And tomorrow I’m having the girl checkup. (more…)
LOS ANGELES, CA-
“I can’t remember what you look like,” I admitted to Cole one day. “I know I thought you were a bit on the yummy side, but let’s face it, I was drunk and slovenly and talking shit on a chaise to a total stranger.”
He paused.
“Check your email,” he said.
He’d sent me a photo of himself walking away from the camera. A tall body and the back of a messy head was all that was visible.
“You’re an asshole,” was all I could muster.
“Heh. Check it again.”
I checked.
“Yep, you’re funny.”
I examined the crime scene. Self portraits with spilled red paint can appear quite realistic and gory if you squint hard enough.
LOS ANGELES, CA-
(… BUT ALSO AN ACCEPTANCE OF CHANGE AND A DESIRE TO SEE WHAT’S NEXT.)
His name was Cole and beside him I looked like a midget.
At six feet tall this is no mean feat.
We met at The Chateau Marmont late on a Spring evening. I wore red leather fuck-me boots and eyes of smoky green, he wore a vintage tuxedo with the word GUCCI embossed all over it.
I looked hot and he looked ridiculous, but in a most intentional way.
We started talking by accident, somehow drawn to each other from across the room, snug in the cushions of a beaten-up chaise. It wasn’t a long conversation, but it was an electric one. We recognized each other but knew we’d never met. He made me laugh, he drew me in, and five minutes later I left him to catch a flight to Australia with no idea when I’d return. I scribbled my email for him in his raggedy journal, downed the remnants of my vodka with regret and stood to go.
Cole stood too, bound by his southern gentlemanly impulses.
“Jesus!” I laughed as he unfurled. “Are you wearing heels?”
SAN DIEGO, CA-
On Friday morning, January 21, 2007, my friend Giavanna died.
Perhaps you can imagine how horrible I find that.
How incomprehensible.
SALT LAKE CITY, UT-
Recently, my Esteemed Comrade Rich Ferguson wrote about a visit he made to New Orleans several years ago, pre-Katrina, and a magical experience he had there with a street performer named Eldridge.
(The story also involved an old beater Chevy Caprice—always a plus, in my book.)
Rich’s story reminded me of my own visits to New Orleans, each of which also involved magic in some way.
The first time I went to New Orleans, for example, was also the first and only time I performed karaoke.
So that time it was black magic.
PARIS–
It was Friday night, and I was alone, eating pizza delivery and listening to the rain fall outside my apartment.
I had just cleaned up the bathroom and the kitchen, and vacuumed the floor.
It was the first night of my life as a married man.
And I slept alone.
Isabelle was at her parents’ place across town, bedding down in a large apartment surrounded by loved ones.
And I was alone.
As planned.
See, because though technically I was married, the big ceremony was still fifteen hours away.
In France, you get married twice. (more…)
THE DEEP SOUTH-
Rowena.
In the 3rd grade she was the cooties girl, the girl with the
perpetual nose crust.
ATLANTA, GA-
I’ve been a casual toast consumer since I was a kid: Wonder Bread and Sunbeam were magical words in that long-ago suburban Florida kitchen with the orange linoleum.
Not that I worship toast or anything, but after all these years of toast consumption I realize how oblivious I’ve been (albeit blissfully) to its rich history and the hard-working professional scholars out there unearthing the truth about the toaster, without which bread would just be bread. (more…)
