Hidetaka worked at Toshikyu-Chuo Station on the Toshikyu Railways Green Line in Kanagawa, Japan. The station was in the suburbs, and only local trains stopped there. Most people rode their bikes to the station, took the train two stops north, then transferred to a rapid express that would take them into their offices in southern Tokyo much more quickly. Because of the sheer number of daily commuters, the eastern edge of the train tracks at Toshikyu-Chuo Station was sided with rows upon rows of bicycle parking. Bike racks were stacked on top of bike racks, each adorned with a number.Continue reading “Toshikyu Railways Bicycle Parking, Office #73”
Harold Leblanc was a fellow of unique mannerism for he rarely, if ever, spoke. Rather, Harold would fully converse via facial expression. From minute to exaggerated movements, he was able to convey perfectly what he wanted through his countenance alone. Despite apprehension for most of hearing such a farcical story, upon meeting Harold, all thoughts of poppycockery, joke-making, and frustration would withdraw. For they would be met with a face of sublimity and wholesome welcome. In turn, they themselves would quickly melt into a friendly reception.Continue reading “The Formidable Expressions of Harold Leblanc”
There were three people on the beach. Two of them were walking towards their car, chairs awkwardly tucked under their armpits, bags overflowing with towels that dragged along the ground, each wearing multiple hats and pairs of sunglasses. Three kids sat near the car. The kids had raced their parents to the car, and won. They were no longer on the beach. Continue reading “Crescent Dreams of Sea Breams”
I read the classic, beautiful prose work of Xeng Diaoping, Agamemnon vs Gibbongod LIVE in front of a (dutifully silent) studio audience this week. It’s now on Youtube! I put it there. I might do this kind of video again, and there’s the possibility that I will do other kinds of videos as well. Subscribe to the channel! It will be a gorgeous experience.
Ezzy drew the art! He’s just that kind of guy. The Spaghetti Soup Collective continues to collaborate and corroborate. These times are only beginning, my friends.
Kyle when he was human killed ten-thousand bugs. Many by accident, to be sure, but many on purpose as well. Not out of cruelty, but because he just wanted them out of his house. Stomping, crushing, swatting, poisoning, flushing down the toilet. Kyle often saw others take a bug who had wandered in back outside. He had done the same thing every now and then, but generally if there was a bug inside, it was going to die.Continue reading “Kyle When He Was Human”
It was a cold February afternoon, and the man in the red coat upstairs was hammering nails on his balcony. I could hear him hammering away, and the hammering had such a consistent rhythm to it that it almost became beautiful. Continue reading “Dance of the Dream Man / See You In My Nightmare”