“So, how did you two meet?” “Oh, you know, like everyone else does. It was Easter, 1997. People on the beach were drinking heavy quantities of Pacifico and Indio. Back then, they were good beers, not the slightly acidic, watered down urine we are sold at the shops these days.” I wasn’t the best of swimmers, but I knew Miramar like the back of my … Continue reading Overfloater – a short story
Note/Warning: My proper reviews for SXSW will be on La Pop Life and Gold Flake Paint soon(ish). For Sloucher, I’ll be posting diary-style stuff, mostly unedited (barring a few typos that had to go away, replaced by more typos. Most of these diaries were written late at night and honest to God, this is how they went. No clear cut narrative is intended, just general ramblings. Enjoy this Gonzo-style experiment. Continue reading “SXSW Diaries – That Sunday I felt like Russell Crowe before the last fight in Gladiator…”
Dear child of the 7th
I suffered your desire
My Sweet Lord, have mercy
Deliver me from this little tantrum
I am sitting between your legs, leaning back against your chest. I thread my fingers through yours over my stomach and you gently kiss my neck before resting your head on my shoulder. I smile. Continue reading “Short Story : Since he left”
It scares me sometimes, how involved I get in music. It happens without me even realising: I close my eyes and let myself go and suddenly I can’t tell left from right, up from down. Continue reading “Short Story : Confessions of a gig addict”
To this day I still don’t know what woke me. We’d spent most of the evening listening to music, drinking whiskey, having drunken, drawn out sex and at some point I’d fallen into the coma-like sleep that only comes from excessive alcohol intake. But suddenly, it was 4 am and I was awake. Continue reading “Short Story: Why I don’t drink whiskey any more”
Me dicen “Chocolate” desde que tengo uso de razón, creo que por el gusto desmedido de mis padres por la Sonora Santanera. Mucha gente cree que aquello de “toma chocolate, paga lo que debes” hace referencia al cacao, pero no es así. Chocolate, con C mayúscula, era el apodo de uno de los amigos de la agrupación. Continue reading “Cuento Corto : Los Macheteros”
It’s the mid 60s and even if the kids don’t know it, the wave has reached a watermark and will roll back in a few years. My dad was Mexican. My mom was American. They met through work, married in San Diego and moved to Los Angeles with three kids on tow. I was the last one, the late one to the party. They almost called me “Benjamin”. I dodged a bullet there. God bless the 70s. Continue reading “Tales of the Pill Generation : Egregious”
Howdy, you beautiful carbon units typing on ergonomic keyboards and sipping chai-lattes with demerara sugar that is both ecofriendly and fairtrade and recyclable. It is me, Orestes P. Coltrane Xistos (P is for Pisstake) and I welcome you with open arms (and a Turk-slaying knife) to this new edition of The Sunday Soapbox.
Today’s rant: Richard Kelly‘s The Box.
So, previously we brought you the story of two lovely slackers and a frog. That was here. Then we went for some side-character development shenanigans and ended up in a Dr. Who quality cliffhanger. That was here. Now we are back in action. Here starteth (!) the new chapter of our webcomic.