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Death Metal.
It is an angry DJ that never comes out to take a bow, or have champagne with fans wearing tiny dresses and fake, fat and lacquered lips. He is an unreachable musician, wearing a cochlear cape of bone with one small, pink, nerve-lined pocket to keep his demented setlist handy. The concerts are tireless, but…
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GIVE OR TAKE A POUND
It had been almost exactly four years since I had seen him last and that was not an intentional, applied for brunch reservation, but an ambush whirled up by my cunning grandmother. She figured since she hears selectively, wrapped with poorly, my complaints would be easily squelched with just a pivot of her shoulder. I…
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I’m on holiday in Schlockville.
Hello, invisible friends who read my words on occasion. I know it’s been very quiet in here after I made a big and bloviate fuss about relaunching my redesigned website. Visit! Follow! Like! Subscribe! Lurk! Even despise and detest, if you must. You do you, boo. Just know, I see all the traffic, but not…
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FORAGING
What’s your deal? You okay? Why so serious? All these questions are asked. Again and again. I’m good. Sometimes I even feel a glimmer of great. But mostly, just okay. Truthfully, I am just sitting on the well-worn fence of fine and who gives a fuck anymore. I am tired of that face. Now leathery,…
LALANATIVE is a collection of writings by Franchon J. Whitby. (c) 2023