Old Red Barns

My short story The Roadhouse has finally been exposed to the world. Thanks to Eclectica for putting it out there. Be sure to read the rest of the issue - some great stories and poems in there. Note that this story is different from others I've written for the following reasons:

1. discernible plot
2. real people, real names (still fictional though)
3. it's about the lost "Pennsylvania years" I never talk about

Patrick Swayze does not make an appearance in the story. Marvin Gaye does.

What I did this weekend:

• Wrote an epic poem about Weird Al Yankovic, in which he kills me. You'll never see it.
• Went to a concert. The headliner was good. The opening act represents the future of music.
• Was 2 for 2 in my Final Four predictions. If UCLA wins, I will have made the correct prediction of an NCAA champion for the first time in my entire life (and I'm talking about my original bracket, back when there were 65 teams). How will I celebrate? By nodding my head.
• Wrote a non-epic poem about a Minneapolis pizza place called A Slice of New York. Never has such mediocre food inspired such fine poesy.
• Got another damn parking ticket on the same damn street. My "the curb didn't look red in the dark" excuse won't work twice, will it?
• Met a librarian. Met a social worker. Guess who was more interesting?
• Oh yeah - I helped Laurel move three times in 16 hours. We get to do it twice more later this week. Moving is good for the soul. I like moving. When I'm not the one moving. Even if, in a way, I am the one moving.
• The social worker, in an upset, emerges as more victorious in the interestingness game.
• Washed my laundry in the kitchen sink (note to landlord - dude when will my washer be fixed?)
  
• Thoroughly enjoyed last night's Sopranos. The hospital room scene where Tony and his new friends watched the boxing match was beautiful.
• Wrote 5 other poems. Poems, Ali? What's up? The 90s are over!
• Figured it all out.

(hey Jason and Monica - congratulations!)