Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Keith Davis Young
Design and photography by Keith Davis Young, also known as Live To Make. See more of Keith's photography here.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Monday, March 18, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
"Sometimes"
A Short Story by Ben McNutt
Sometimes a man drinks entirely too much tequila and finds himself in a dive bar in Pasadena singing Hotel California with a one-armed trucker named Pete Ravenski. And sometimes a one-armed trucker named Pete Ravenski turns out to be a real son-of-a-bitch.
Tequila. It’s a coy flirt on the way down and a real ball buster the morning after. You got hustled, asshole. And now your 1972 R75/5 BMW is in the back of a semi-trailer headed to Albuquerque.
Whoever said you need two arms to drive a motorcycle lacked imagination.
A Short Story by Ben McNutt
Sometimes a man drinks entirely too much tequila and finds himself in a dive bar in Pasadena singing Hotel California with a one-armed trucker named Pete Ravenski. And sometimes a one-armed trucker named Pete Ravenski turns out to be a real son-of-a-bitch.
Tequila. It’s a coy flirt on the way down and a real ball buster the morning after. You got hustled, asshole. And now your 1972 R75/5 BMW is in the back of a semi-trailer headed to Albuquerque.
Whoever said you need two arms to drive a motorcycle lacked imagination.
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
- Walt Whitman, 1900
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
- Walt Whitman, 1900
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)