essay: #018 Vanilla Sky

It's all Vanilla Sky.
104.3 degrees, in the shade.



My editor says:
“I love it when you restrain yourself.”
My man says:
“Life is meaningless without you…”
The headline says:
“DEAD MAN RIDES SUBWAY FOR HOURS, BEFORE BEING DISCOVERED.”

# #

essay: #017 Strange Days

So, it felt like the film Strange Days.
Greatest story ever told, kind of.
Where future tense becomes the now.

There was something about.
The Pope wears Prada.
While New Orleans was unveiled.
As poster-child for the Third World.

None of it mattered though.
In the end.
Mojito in the sun.
Love, brooding opposite me.

What is love, anyway?
"I miss you, even when I'm with you...."
I want to say.
To my baby.

But I don't.
And I do...
And now.
I am half...

# transmission ends #