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Wednesday, April 4th, 2007 Are you sure that's him? the cop asked. He was a real cowboy, this one. Snakeskin boots. Sure I’m sure I’ll never forget that face. It was true. The stark, wide eyes of fear like amazement. A bewildering sense of power and control within them And the terror of wielding it Chaos and consequences cracking like thunder. Just a squeeze away. Scott carried the bank-drop in a brown paper bag Cash and credit card receipts from the store A mild December morning The city yawned. 2 blocks to go. Past the bagel shop The subway The newsstand The bodega The Church Christmas trees lined the sidewalk As we walked past we laughed about our boss Whom we dubbed: the Grey Ghost He was always materializing out of nowhere When we least expected it. And suddenly a man with a gun materialized out of the Christmas trees. We didn’t expect that either. Bright eyes of fearful determination; afraid. There was a pause as silence rolled over us like a wave. I remember thinking: This isn’t really what it appears to be. Give me the fucking bag. The man waved the gun like a crucifix In an arc as if we were vampires. First towards me then Bernardo. My eyes locked on the weapon. Vertical ridges Blunt tip Carbon blue Criss-cross pattern on the handle I tried to find a flaw, but it looked real. Heavy with the weight of bullets. Let go of the fucking bag. Benny’s face was drawn tight. I could see the seriousness of all of this in his flat gaze. The spark of mortality glittered like a diamond out of the blackness of his eyes paralyzed in the moment of uncertainty. The gun then settled on Scott. Eye level. Before it moved to his chest, then found its way to the slight dimple at the base of his throat. The Gunman shouted for the third time. We heard him but for us, time had stopped there was nothing for us to do but float in the limbo of disbelief Give me the fucking bag. Scott didn’t care about the bag or the money in it. We were all shocked into astonished immobility. Fear clenches. Both of Scott’s arms were locked tight around the bag. My jaws, Bernardo’s small fists, Scott’s arms. The gun moved again Now just under Scott’s chin. Beneath his close-clipped salt and pepper beard. His head tilted back under the pressure. Its movement seemed to say: The gun is real. Feel how real it is? Your life is the distance between this hollow barrel and a pointed copper tip. It’s waiting in the chamber. At that moment I thought: Scott is going to die today. I saw the deep brown of Bernardo’s imploring eyes Over the outstretched arm of the gunman A flannel sleeve of brown and beige and cream. Benny spoke softly and with a calmness that defied. Scott. Give him the bag. In a swift motion with his free hand, the gunman tore the bag away out of Scott’s arms. It took him three good pulls to free it. The third pull ripped open the paper sack as it came loose. Bundles of cash in rubber bands bounced on the sidewalk The remainder of the bag and its contents were in the arms of the gunman As he turned and fled down 79th street A flap of brown paper waving loosely behind him as he ran. Sound erupted around us The world reeled us back into its noisy vortex A passing taxi’s tires jarred a manhole cover Pigeons fluttered up to the sky from the steps of the church The squeal of breaks and the smell of diesel as a bus slowed Car horns bleated in the distance down Broadway Subway trains rocketed through the station below and shook the sidewalk under our feet. Bernardo knelt to collect the bundles Scott yelled something and then gestured for me to follow him. Jesus. I thought. We chased the thief. There were two of them now: gunman and accomplice Another had come out of the Christmas trees to slow us down. But he had no gun. His empty hands waved to us not to follow. It made all the difference. I heard Scott continue to yell something But I could only make out bits of it. ...at least see what direction he’s... I reluctantly followed. The image of the gun was still fresh in my mind. I was much faster than Scott But I ran behind him anyway. A red Lincoln screeched to a halt at the end of the block Then raced away. Scott was out of breath He turned and we began running back to the store This time I was ahead of him. As we ran Scott repeated a set of numbers and letters I scribbled them as best as I could on my hand with a grease-pen from the front pocket of my deli-coat Twenty minutes later we observed the red Lincoln from the back of a police car In a crowded intersection of flashing red lights from police cruisers and unmarked cars pulled up on the curbs and sidewalks in disarray. We identified the gunman. Yes. That’s him. That’s the motherfucker. Then on to the precinct in Washington Heights. Reports were typed and filed by the cop with the slight drawl and snakeskin cowboy boots You’re lucky, he said. ...if you had been armed, or in this neighborhood, they would have just shot you and taken the money. The cowboy could see our satisfaction Glaring at the gunman in the cell Head down Ashamed and foiled. I often wonder if he wished he had pulled the trigger or was happy he had not. It feels good when you get them doesn’t it? The cowboy said. You know what? It feels even better when you get them after they’ve fired a few rounds at you. Back downtown, the store was busy with the Christmas rush. There was much to be done But I needed a moment. I sat in the basement on a cardboard box of canned lima beans. I flipped through the pages of my book trying to make sense of it, to escape into the pages of Faulkner, but I could not stop the cinema of scenes. No matter. It was going to be the best Christmas ever.
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Thursday, December 21st, 2006
its been quiet on the active listening front lately… here are the lyrics to the best christmas song in recent years, the song ‘if you were born today’ by the minnesota band low. merry christmas! if you were born todayif you were born today we’d kill ya by age eight never get the chance to say: joy to the world and peace on the earth forgive them for they know not what they do blessed are the meek and blessed are the humble blessed are the ninety and nine deny the flesh deny all that’s evil tonight you’ll deny me thrice if you were born today we’d kill ya by age eight never get the chance to say… ooooo…. Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006
another year of war. so here’s my thanksgiving post. the following lyrics were written by the mob. great british punk band of many years ago.. Â NO DOVES FLY HERE The sky is empty and it’s turning different shades of colour It never did before and we never asked for war My mind is empty and my body different shades of torture It never was before and we never asked for war No-one is moving and no doves fly here No-one is thinking and no doves fly here No-one remembers beyond all this fear No doves fly here No doves fly here No doves fly here No doves fly here No doves fly here Tuesday, November 7th, 2006
so i was looking up my polling place info to make sure it hasn’t changed since last year. i found out brazoria county (where i live) is going to electronic voting machines this year (we had been using the chad system. yes. the chad system. seriously.) this really is going to make things a whole lot easier. i won’t have to go to oran roberts school and risk being ridiculed by elementary school kids to vote. i’ll be able to hack into the system from work. and not only that, since i know what is best for everyone i can vote for everyone. this will save manhours at offices all over the country. it will be a boon for the economy and the war will probably end. in the future nov 7th will be known as rich kimball day. richard bruce kimball junior highs will spring up all over the country. there will be a 51st star added to the american flag with a little digital image of me. the super bowl will be known as the rich kimball bowl. the rose bowl will be known as the rich kimball rose bowl. the los angeles angels of anaheim will change their name to the los angeles kimballs of anaheim. sean penn will star as me in a movie of my life. sean coombs will hold me in the same regard as he holds jesus christ and biggie smalls. dude, i may even get sainted for this. Friday, October 27th, 2006
Its almost Halloween so today here are some spooky lyrics from Glenn Danzig’s incredible slow burn post-Misfits band Samhain.  Archangel Go Heaven sends me here to you And if a-you fear you’ve reason to Open up all seven seals The beast is come to claim the youth Archangel Archangel Defiant brood Defiant brood I call on you Casted down my bretheren Rebels from authority Power, pride, contempt and lust All these things I give to you Archangel Archangel Defiant brood Defiant brood I call on youI am not your son of God The prince of light will show no fear Mine is that which rules this world The beast is come, I am the end Archangel Archangel And when they cast out the brood For the sin of pride misused And when they cast down to Hell Fucking brood Archangel Archangel Heaven sends me here to you And if a-you fear you’ve reason to Open up all seven seals The beast is come to claim the youth Archangel Archangel Archangel Archangel Go Archangel |
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