Here, now

[Sepia]

This girl was talking to me, we were sort of separated from the rest of the group but I didn't remember how it happened but now I was there, regaining some part of consciousness that fell away with the fourth fernet and she was talking to me about the swine flu, she had read these reports and there was this one case that was stuck in her head because it was a handsome young boy portrayed through the window of his home and she had become sad that also the beautiful people of our world could contract the flu and I stared at her in disbelief but she took another blank tequila and then she told me that when she read the interview with the boy she'd become horny and right then and there she'd gone to her room and brought forth her dildo and orgasmed thinking about getting infected with the swine flu. I saw her there in the bed, rummaging and squealing and the room was pink and there were stuffed animals everywhere and I knew she was the future.

The disease is growing in the room, it has taken hold in one of our old memories, one of the bad ones, one that the world or our loved one doesn't know about. Inside the memory is a dream we have occasionally and there are different settings and twists of the plot but one thing remains the same, sitting on your knees in front of the toilet and inside the vomit and shit is a gleaming geometrical figure and you never really remember how it looks, an inverted cube pulsating like a fractal but if you saw it in reality you would recognize it instantly, you know this silver object is a part of you and you think it might be a key or a question or an answer or something else than the bickering in the next door apartment, something else than a perpetual identity crisis, something else than what we know.

We're out of cigarettes and the shops are closed and the 24hr places are too far away so we end up just rolling the joints pure because we're students and we're broke as fuck, too young to be connoisseurs and doing this every time we crash into the silence of each other but today was different, we just sat there and listened to the music and spoke occasionally but we kept silent until you put on that dead kennedys tape we listened to when we were smaller and smoking whatever we could lay our hands on that was a bad brick and for an entire evening we know we both live and talk as we did then but our memory will not let us keep the truth, obscuring it behind references and metaphors, showing us what life truly is.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Whenever I read Sepia's stuff, I always feel like I'm in a filthy diner downtown somewhere, at about midnight, strung out on coffee and too little sleep, with that fatigue-driven buzzing you get in your ears...and the sense of dissociation/unreality that comes with it.

That's a good thing, Sepia, in case you were wondering.

[Eater of Clowns]

Whenever I read Sepia's stuff, I always feel like I'm in a filthy diner downtown somewhere, at about midnight, strung out on coffee and too little sleep, with that fatigue-driven buzzing you get in your ears...and the sense of dissociation/unreality that comes with it.

That's a good thing, Sepia, in case you were wondering.

Eating pie that's been on display for god knows how long with all the patrons and staff respecting some unwritten agreement of silence.

I hear ya.

[Pope Pixie Pickle]

keep writing. I'll keep reading.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Whenever I read Sepia's stuff, I always feel like I'm in a filthy diner downtown somewhere, at about midnight, strung out on coffee and too little sleep, with that fatigue-driven buzzing you get in your ears...and the sense of dissociation/unreality that comes with it.

That's a good thing, Sepia, in case you were wondering.

Eating pie that's been on display for god knows how long with all the patrons and staff respecting some unwritten agreement of silence.

I hear ya.

Shit yeah

[Sepia]

Which is awesome that I'm able to convey because I've always felt that those are the days worth living, I've never lived them myself for I believe the day I live these memories from the future or past I will cease to exist, I will die out like a dinosaur and I will be able to teach none nothing more. Every time you go on a date and you end up eating and it's the other one who chooses you inevitably end up eating something that is stale, that is dying in the heart of the customers and is already dead in the heart of the chefs but they can turn to booze and drugs and hope for insanity but everyone else who believes that the pie is not stale and the coffee is good and you can live all of life through a diner in downtown, sex might be hard but could be had, love might be difficult and perhaps you'd not want it at all but the observation, the glimpses of the perfect human condition are to be had when all you're doing is waiting for a bus.

[Jenne]

...and that's all most are doing:  simply waiting for the bus.  Takes a keen observer to notice what lies beyond that wait.  And a brilliant writer to capture it.

[Cramulus]

I don't know if "beautiful" is the right word for this piece, but surely it deserves a word with such a strong meaning.



I have this Opera plugin where if you highlight text, you can right click and it'll read it out loud in this emotionless robot voice. It counterpoints the sound in my head, because in my mind's ear these are read in a soft, breathy whisper with a heavy accent.

I've been listening to these as I clean my room, and the robot voice talking about the dildo made me laaaaugh.


you have a gift, man. Again, I petition you for a compilation. If you send me text, I will make a PDF!