Friday, October 30, 2015


This is a test.

A friend dropped a book on my desk to help me with my self-imposed writer’s block. Funny thing about it is that the book is titled “Writer’s Block” and literally looks like a block. It’s composed of different writing exercises to help writers get a move on in their creative pursuit.

Here are some of my handpicked exercises and the pieces I had written to “answer” them.

“Write about the worst driving you’ve ever done.”

I’m a terrible person behind the wheel. My worst driving experience was during one of my father’s birthdays. We started this particular celebration by drinking at around 9 a.m. I excused myself from work, told my boss that I got sick the night before from trying to get a 
gift for my old man. What a piece of shit.

As always when we drink, we drank hard. It was a binge fest. After a couple 3 bottles of liquor, we cleaned up and drove to another spot to meet different people to “celebrate” a bit more. I was the one driving. I passed out on the table after a few beers and only remembered waking up and paying for the tab. I was piss drunk but I insisted that I should be the one to drive. After all, my father was far better at this game than me.

So to finish off, the worst driving I’ve ever done was something I can’t entirely remember. And the worst thing about it is I lived to write about it. What dumb luck.


Poetry night, every night. Bottles of beer stood proudly on the table. They are inviting in their emptiness. Another night of solitude for Jake. Two women made their way to their spot. He didn’t even blink. They shot down that plane even before it took off. They said they were Jersey boys – two young salesmen peddling their wares on the streets. They didn’t know their product was not currency in this town. The management didn’t allow strangers to hold the mic.

“Valentine’s Day”

These yuppies are hooked. It wasn’t E. Meth was too country for this crowd and besides, who else in their honest mind would want their teeth to fall out? Also, too much stuff is needed to smoke that shit. The bulb looks too messy. Foil is brittle and obvious. Don’t get me started on the smell and the taste. That shit is just nasty. But this, this is the drug of tomorrow. It’s something that you can actually enjoy putting in your mouth. Sweet with a bit of tang. Wait for it. Wait for it. There. It’s a “lay me down” shit is what it is. A sting on the end will pull you back. But remember, look for the brand “SO FINE” to know that you’re getting grade A stuff. You should be able to read it on that heart-shaped candy. If it looks cracked and all brittle, walk away. Get your money’s worth.

“Bad Hair Day”

Fuck it. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Ay yo what’s the hold up? Let’s go! Let’s go!

Shit. This thing is itchy as hell! Fucking fucks.

What you gotta wear that piece of shit thing for huh?

Shut up man. Just let me do my thing and I’ll let you do yours, ayt?! I ain’t messing with 
your do, man.

All I’m saying is why wear a wig when you can just wear a mask?

Yo, people in that joint ain’t gonna complain that Donald Trump hit them.

You have such bad taste.

I wouldn’t go that far to describe your sister, man.


The cat lady on 10th. I wonder how many cans of tuna does she go through a week?

 Mr. Douchebag on the 9th. It’s not Porsh. It’s Por-shuh. Suck a dick.

  Emily on 8th. Really? Mr. 9th Floor?

   7th. Looks like Ray isn’t home yet.

    6th. Those two brewers have really good taste in music.

     5th. Still empty.

      Jesus Christ that brunette on 4th has a rocking body.

        3rd floor. Shit. I forgot to turn off the light in the kitchen. Good thing I~~~


No comments:

Post a Comment