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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22 posts tagged short stories
REVERBERATE INTO NEW PRESSURE
An old man acclaimed as the world’s greatest living writer had a free reading and few people came. It was in a large room on the top floor of a fancy building at a private university. A wall of windows offered a perfect view of the glowing city skyline.
There were so many empty seats that the staff removed several rows of chairs from the back of the room and other chairs from around the sides to create a packed house where there was not one.
Another writer introduced the old man, his former professor, and told an anecdote about how the old man had almost expelled him. The old man came on stage and told an anecdote about a dead southern author who lied about why he used a cane and he explained that they really used a cane for the same reason - writing ruins backs the same way hard labor does.
The old writer’s voice sounded important. He said the story he was going to read had “mysteries hidden deep within it.” It was the title story from his new collection. It was good. A few people lined up for him to sign their books and everyone else walked to the elevator.
20 Plays
The Fiddleback published so much goodness it is hard to explain
To be an abandoned house properly, you really must be decorated with stuffed animals. Otherwise, you’re not really trying.
The latest issue of The Fiddleback is neither a house nor is it decorated suchly. And it’s not trying. You can’t see the effort. It’s making it look easy. So! Much! Good! Shit!
Start with Not Big by xTx. Do not miss Dan Long’s interview with Donald Ray Pollock, the author of The Devil All the Time. Then read everything else.
I have a story in there, too, if you have any strength left: Quiet the Remedies. An honor for me to be anywhere near the names of such fine folk.
Win a copy of my book
LitStack.com is giving away a copy of Steal Me for Your Stories. For free! At no cost to you! Nada! Zero! Zip! Zilch! All you have to do is a leave them a comment with your email address. Don’t be scared.
UPDATE: The giveaway is over. You didn’t win! But you can still buy a copy here. Only a few left.
BAH TO THE DISPASSIONATE, KNOTTY CHORUS
A large hawk hunted for food in in the park. I sipped coffee and ate a biscuit and watched the bird, hoping. Someone claimed it was an eagle. Its spread wings were wide and beautiful.
The bird was difficult to photograph and so was this dude who walked by wearing a fur coat and black baseball cap with “LET’S FUCK” stitched in white letters across the front.
The hawk perched on low branches and when it spotted a pigeon or some other small bird not paying attention it swooped at them and tried to snatch them from the air with its talons. It also dive-bombed squirrels and just missed plucking them from tree trunks.
A woman on a bench near mine was laughing but her laughs sounded like sobs. I looked over every now and then and she was smiling and joking with a man, touching his knee a lot, but when I looked away I was sure she was weeping.
The squirrels sent warnings to each other with jittery tail signals and others hugged branches tight and kept their heads down while making some kind of weird chirping — a rodent alarm — whenever the hawk was near.
A boy ran away from his mother toward a puddle near the dog run.
“I love this puddle!” the kid yelled.
“No, don’t do it!” the mom said but he was already in the air.
The splash and the delighted scream scared the hawk and it flew to another branch on the other side of the park. It did not catch anything but it kept trying. It was not an eagle.
WE LOVE YOU / AND WE HAVE YOU
A woman walks past a man sitting in the middle of the sidewalk and he tries a pickup line on her. Everyone rushes to work around him.
“C’mon!” he says. “I gotta try!”
She sips coffee, struts and ignores. A tattoo on her arm in script letters: “Everything Happens For A Reason.” What could the reason be for the tattoo?
Tired people crowd the deli, sip coffee, and the guy sizzling eggs takes orders over his shoulder.
“One on a roll and one on a croissant.”
“So, how many?” he says. His goatee is graying with especially long hairs sprouting from a mole.
“One of each.”
“So, two?” He rubs oil over the grill with a flat metal spatula.
“I dunno. Is one plus one still two?”
Eggs sizzle.
A woman digs through her coin purse trying to count exact change at the register while the line grows.
“I can never get rid of pennies,” she says. “I’m convinced pennies are slowing down the economy. What country still uses pennies?!”
It is not the pennies slowing everyone down, lady.
A kid runs in and yells at the egg sizzler: “Yo, bro! Please tell me you have bacon, egg and cheese.” No. “Fuuuuck!”
A guy in a wheel chair on the street corner rattles a cup, a leg nub dangling from a pant leg like someone erased it. My earbuds are in but no music is playing while I wait for the light and he screams, “Quarter!” and I look at him and he screams it at me again and again. He motions for me to pull out my earbuds and screams, “QUARTER!”
I feel rain.
Black stencil graffiti on the sidewalk: “ART IS MY WEAPON” over the silhouette of an AK-47. A man pushing a baby carriage steps on the stencil graffiti. His T-shirt has a tilted guitar under the words “Music Is My Religion.”
A blue double-decker tour bus stops at the light, the open top deck filled with some other type of people wearing yellow plastic bags. All of them smile the same smile.
Specter published a story of mine
If you haven’t seen what Specter has been doing, you might want to check it out. I’m very happy to be included in the November issue along with my buddy Alex Pruteanu. Check out his story, Orange Cigarettes.
Maybe also perhaps check out my story, { tonight : under scaffolding }. There’s lots more in there, too, and for a small fee you can see what else they have to offer. Send all checks to me abd I’ll make sure the loot gets into the right hands.
A reading? In Chicago? In Winter? I’m just gonna be like brrrrr
Look at all these amazing people I get to read with! Fun.
Beer. Snow. Words.
Maybe I’ll get my nails did, too. It is at a beauty bar.
Frozen beards at no extra cost.
The Uptown Collective asked me a few questions and I answered them
Led Black is leading the way in drawing attention to Uptown artists and he threw me a Q&A about my story collection that is up at The Uptown Collective. Thanks, Led.
