Category Archives: Junk Culture

A ceiling haze leak, six hours to sun, come altered and porous. Space to blur with the unexpected.

Like a Laying on of Hands

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“I used to follow the odd jobs truck down the street when I’d see it. My friends did too, we all went together. We’d run, skate, or bicycle as fast as we could to keep up. Usually it would pass us easily but we could see it far enough ahead that we could catch up once he stopped. There weren’t many hills in our town, at least not in the neighbourhood where most of us … Continue →

It’s Always Like This at the Start of a Ride

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The highway depopulated during Mr. Junk Kary’s lightly careening philiafur-ride. Thoughts meandering, not unlike his car, to the direction of cinnamon and the tastes of must. “Sugar n’ spice… gimme something tart” he thought. Smog looked fat lolling in the soon-to-be-curtained sky. A slow motion coming in on a chariot of bloodied goats. Junk felt foreign, no, worse … Continue →

Don’t Disturb the Drunkard

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Rather than the original from my stupor, I mercifully provide a numbered translation for my appalling handwriting, but I do not provide a translation for my appalling thinking. 1. Do you want to know what this is? He asked her. Yes. It is you, watching my nose bleed! But in seeing you, I’ve been drunk all night, you are my golden hero. You are come for the … Continue →