OK Archive




Once, when he was a child, his father took him and his brother sailing. His father fell asleep while they were at the helm. * *

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They sailed with the wind, which was blowing stiffly offshore. When he woke up they were far from land. He still remembers the look on his face. Jim still feels the way he felt when his father looked at him, like someone had trampled on his soul. J **

im is inflammatory, especially to himself. This often masquerades as seething toxicity. Just about everybody loathes him for this reason, much as one might despise a computer virus or someone that’s always trying to take advantage of you, but if Jim thinks of others just as corrupt errand boys or unwanted worms, then he’s OK with both feeling uncomfortable and making others the same. H **

is whole life feels like a crime in progress, you know? * *

* *

It has a lot to do with his crumbling tendency desire for looking at the unholy side of things, for turning and turning over reality until he sees its soft maggoty underbelly – its TRUTH as it were. At least he tells himself it’s the truth. He has a private chuckle at this. At these times he is badly taken aback by the realization of just how dangerous this quest can be. *



Dear Lou,

I was in a fish restaurant minding my own business….well, as well as I can these days, which isn’t really that good, and this morbidly obese couple sat in the booth next to me with that sheepish look that fat people always seem to have when they eat in public. But why should they feel guilty? Fat people get hungry too. OK, they might have an eating disorder, but they should be able to eat and be proud of it. But I’m always nosy about what they order; very judgmental when they get a huge platter of fried fish as opposed to a salad or something. A guy I had lunch with, a tremendous guy, ordered two double cheeseburgers with bacon and a diet coke. This is a true story. He had never been to this place before. When the waitress came over to ask how everything was, he said, “Perfect combination of fatty meat and grease. I am definitely coming back here.” I kid you not. Whenever I see fat people in a restaurant I think of this guy. About a year later, he committed suicide. Went to a wooded park near where we live and hung himself. A hiker found Mike the next day. No more cheeseburgers for him.




Jim is thinking about when he was a teenager, when his friends went to see the Stones at Madison Square Garden and he wasn’t invited and he was so jealous but in retrospect, yes, after all these years, after all this water has flowed under the bridge, yes, he realizes that Tony and Tom and Jocko were just being teenagers and it was nothing personal, that they didn’t even realize he’d take it personally, but then again they must’ve, the way that Monday they talked about how awesome it was right in front of him and when they saw how jealous he was, they talked about it even more. Jim thinks about this a lot, probably too much, and his thoughts are irrationally obsessive, that’s not to say obsessively irrational. But then again, maybe it is. There’s quite a close relationship between obsession and irrationality when you think about it. When Jim was in college, he wrote a paper on this relationship. He got a failing grade. The professor, Dr. Hobbes, was this miserable bastard with absolutely no sense of humor. Regardless, the paper sucked. Even if the professor was like the coolest guy on the planet he’s probably flunk old Jim. But the way Hobbes ridiculed Jim by writing all these really sarcastic comments on the paper pissed Jim off. The guy didn’t need to be such a turd. OK, the guy hated the paper, but he could’ve been more diplomatic. A few years ago, Jim was at the bank and he ran into Hobbes. “How are you?” Jim, Hobbes asked it that smarmy voice. *”Do I fucking know you?!” *screamed Jim.



” Should I place the flowers that I put in the bottle near the window so they get some light?” Jim thought.  The door opened.

“Is the the cottage cheese still OK?” she said.

The leaves in the night whispered something Jim thought he understood.  Some kind of animal rustled in the flower bed.  Jim thought about the familiar sun shining on the other side of the planet, the words someone was speaking there.

He looked at the flowers.  “Their existence is – -” he thought.

His thoughts were cut by his thought about the sun.  He looked at the kitchen table.  His books were piled before him, hardly any space.   The titles, *Time’s Remnants*, *Qualities for Me to Use*, *I Had a Moment of Clarity*, and the one he hadn’t read, *In the Heart of Things*, the one Steve had recommended, said it was a memoir by a guy who was the caretaker for Red Grooms for many years….he was gone now, they all were, the Red Grooms crowd.   They all had their moment, but for them time had stopped forever, their days in the sun had come and gone, come and gone like a dream at sunset, unwatered by faith, not knowing how much they, the Red Groomses,  beckoned to us now….

….now in our hopes and unpruned creations, our music, our joy at this suffering lonely world.