ROBB TODD
Someone actually let me have a book. My first collection of fiction is on sale. You can even enjoy a Kindle edition.
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© 2012 Robb Todd
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I ALSO HANG OUT HERE
OTHER PEOPLE'S STUFF
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Another Drums Along The Hudson Pic. #inwoodpark #inwood #inwoodhillpark #washingtonheights #washheights #newyork #city #newyorkcity #nyc #Uptown...
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“No one is ever really alone. You are part of everything alive.”— William S. Burroughs, Queer
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Skull Crystal LED Door Knob
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“Malia and Sasha and a bunch of my friends and Michelle had sort of like a roast, a little private roast, each one of them read something and Malia...”
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“I’ve no light in me
but that I reflect of you.
You are stars to me.” -
1316
Look, single dudes, the world will never be in short supply of
ticking-clock women who want kids, so just stay in a little bit of...
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39 posts tagged prose
EVERY DOG IS A KILLER IN HER HEART
A man on the street said, “Can you help me? I’m poor.” I handed him a banana and he said, “Everything you need to know about life you can learn by watching animals,” and he peeled it by pinching off the black spot at the bottom, not by pulling the stem. “I speak several languages, including toddler, and I’ve picked flowers from rhinoceros horns. Every ritual is forced upon us.” He ate the banana and rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, looked around, stared into shop windows, eyed the pedestrians, regarded the traffic. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a faded tattoo of a sleeve. “All we know are assemblages.”
WE WILL NEVER DIE JUST YET
This is important (and do not ever let someone who is successful at life tell you otherwise): There is a building near my office that was used as an exterior shot on a famous sitcom about a group of friends. It has been off the air for almost a decade but the show is syndicated. Tourists stand on the corner and take pictures of it. All day long. The show was not even filmed in this city. This is our culture. Tourists. Photos. All. Day. Long.
I took two pictures of food today. I do not have a healthy relationship with food nor money but I get along with liquid fine.
Remember when we saw the plane writing in the sky?
The approaching train sounded like lasers. On the train, a man with a torn jacket said to a little woman wearing a red coat, “Excuse me, miss. What day is it?”
She pulled her earbuds out. “Friday.”
He said thank you. At the next stop, he said, “One of these guys should give you a seat.”
She could not hear him. She had her earbuds in again.
“They should give you a seat!” He had an unopened can in his pocket, something to drink. “Is this 59th street?”
Another man said, “When it stops, bro.”
The man with the torn jack held out his hand with the cross dangling. “Could you spare a quarter?”
Outside the gym, a man walked past wearing green jeans. Does that mean anything to anyone any more?
Inside the elevator to the gym, a woman told another woman that she has a student whose name is pronounced “shu-thead” but it is not spelled that way. It has an I and no dash. The other woman laughed and said she has a student named La-Dasha, spelled La-Dasha, with a dash.
Inside the gym, a sweaty man wore a T-shirt that said, I HAVE DOUGHNUTS AT HOME. The view from the yoga studio is sick.
Outside the gym, two giant dump trucks stopped for a little old lady jaywalking with a cane, a pile of dead Chistmas trees near a no-parking sign. A blind man in white fur coat stood on the corner, tapping things. A little girl with a pink, rolling backpack stomped down the sidewalk making angry noises.
Relationships, my life, my feelings blahblah I do not know how it is for other people.
AIRPORT
“At this time we are only pre-boarding our first class passengers, business class passengers, small business class passengers, business school grads, platinum club members, diamond deluxe members, gold medallion members, Captain’s Club members, Mile High Club members, and all premium class passengers and club members, members of the armed forces — excluding the Coast Guard but including the National Guard — passengers needing special assistance, small children needing special medication, insomniac babies, billy goats, donkeys, flightless birds of any kind and any barky animals that fit securely in a purse, Internet moguls, oil barons, royal barons, all royalty, heirs and heiresses, anyone wearing leopard print sweatpants and designer sunglasses, anyone wearing a black turtleneck and wire rim glasses, as well as any of the other fashionable and unfashionable elite class who will have their choice of inflight meals, which include lobster rolls, lobster salad, lobster bisque, lobster thermidor, or, for members of the eco-elite, a copy of the book ‘Consider the Lobster,’ while they recline in leather seats and enjoy free wine, free wi-fi, free high fives, low carbon footprints, hot-towel service, and deep-tissue massage, and if you are not boarding the plane yet, please wait a little while longer while we fill it from front to back instead of back to front so you have to squeeze your way with your bags past people who never have to wait for anything and if you are lucky enough not to get bumped from this overbooked flight we will only allow you to sleep in steerage for a moment before we wake you up with a sharp slam to the knee from a beverage cart and spill coffee on your lap and sell you a bag of crushed potato chips at a handsome markup while blocking the aisle to the bathroom for half an hour. Thank you for your patience. We will now begin regular boarding for women who won’t stop talking and men who won’t stop snoring and anyone who can’t fit his or her bag in the overhead compartment but won’t stop trying. We know you have your choice of airlines and, as always, we appreciate your business. Thank you for flying with us.”
If you are not afraid when you write, then you are not writing anything important.
Check out the winter issue of JMWW
If you have not read Daniel Long’s writing, well, there might not be any hope for you. You can begin the attempt at redemption by reading his story, From the Plagiarist’s Notebooks: Markson Makes an Introduction, in the winter issue of JMWW.
Other people wrote stories and whatnot, including me: Eardrum Alphabet Orbit. This is one of the stories in my collection, which you can order here if you are a decent human and fine American.
It’s honor to be alongside Dan, a brilliant writer and friend. He’s going to blow shit up with word bombs. He already is.
IT IS LATER THAN YOU THINK
He will not eat an egg for breakfast because he worries about cholesterol but he lights a cigarette and brags about how good the coke was. Cops harass a woman playing the guitar on the subway platform and we climb into the cold night, avoiding a step with a mound of human shit, a bite taken by a boot.
He says he has been flossing all week because he has a dentist appointment in a few hours that he is probably going to cancel. I tell him that is like cleaning your apartment before the maid comes. He says he does that, too.
The sidewalks are crowded with Christmas trees and I breath them in. A long flatbed with tall slats holds hundreds of prone trees. Several men are lying on top, mattress of green needles, chopped trunks, hands behind their heads, staring at the sky. Clouds and city light hide the stars and it is silent for a moment and, here, if you miss that then you miss everything.
PANK PUBLISHED A STORY OF MINE
The December issue of PANK is filled with words that might interest you. They should interest you. They BETTER interest you. There’s also this story, All You Need Is Love (And A Job (Or Maybe Not A Job)). I wrote it. Maybe check that one out, too.
