Ever since reading Bill Bryson’s book A Walk In The Woods I’ve been dreaming of taking a few months off from work and hiking the Appalachian Trail. But with the work environment as it currently is, I don’t think it’d be very smart to quit my job. But a man still can dream, can’t he?
I managed to get home an hour early last night, and while dinner was cooking I thought I’d waste a few minutes and scan the web for interesting hiking info when I stumbled upon this fellow Condor who hiked the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail:
Bonus points if you spotted the butterfly.
Hmm…living on the west coast, the Pacific Crest Trail is much closer to me (practically right outside my front door), and I might be able to hike it in weekly stages. Hmmm….
Great, I feel another obsession creeping up on me (I’m great at collecting these). Excuse me while I hunt down a few maps…
I could be having the worst day at work, my car could break down, I could lose track of where I last saw my wallet, suddenly come down with a vicious toothache, and my computer could crash in a flaming heap of plastic and silicon leaving me high and dry without a current backup.
All of this would be forgotten in an instant the moment I unbuckle Tyler from his car seat and carry him upstairs as he falls asleep on my shoulder.
This, my friends, is a major perk to parenthood 
…Is it me you’re looking for?
I can only imagine how long this must have taken to put together:
The editor must have had the patience of a saint, and the tenacity of a tabloid freelance writer…
I’ve been absorbed in writing my great American novel and didn’t bother to look at the time. Before I knew it the day was done and I had no post for the blog.
But fear not, intrepid believer. It’s on the old stand-by: Pimp somebody else’s site!
And so, here are some fine examples of movie posters from an alternate universe, courtsey of Behance Network. Please check out the link for more examples!
I’m quite partial to The Hangover and Inception posters. I wonder if these will ever be offered for sale?
Five Minute Fiction is an ongoing experiment. The goal: To write as much as I can in five minutes. Don’t think. Let the fingers do the work. Once done walk away then come back later to clean it up.
Enjoy!
The City
Wes vividly remembers lying face down on the curb, arms flayed out on the cold concrete, head bleeding, unable to move.
He thinks about the gun, and the voice, and how things seemed to move in slow motion like the world was drowning in glue. He recalls walking home late one night from work, the bitter wind biting at his cheeks, and how quiet the city seemed. But most of all, the one memory that keeps percolating to the surface, keeping him awake at night, is the whiskey voice telling telling him not to move.
He doesn’t remember the face, but the voice he’ll never forget. Like clockwork gears dipped in sand, it told him not to move (“Don’t fucking move!”). It told him to hand over his wallet (“Give me your fucking money!”). It told him that he should move faster or that he’ll get hurt (“Hurry the fuck up or I’ll fuck you up!”).
What he doesn’t recall is the gun smashing into the side of his skull. How he saw a dancing blanket of stars like television snow. The tunnel vision. The blackness that smothered him like a lead jacket. How he was unconscious before he even hit the ground. The feet of pedestrians walking past, ignoring him, thinking he was nothing more than a passed out drunk.
But that was then. This is now. And Wes is back on that same corner, this time in a wheelchair, pretending to be asleep. A twenty dollar bill peeking out from a front pocket. His right hand hidden underneath the flap of a frayed coat, with his fingers wrapped around the worn grip of a chromed .38 special. Alert. Listening. Praying to hear that voice just one more time.
