infinite 8s

make precise ticking things

Nana said it was only a matter of time.  A body could only take so much but a mind was a whole other matter.  Genny was a strong woman even though she didn’t immediately look it.  She wasn’t tall but she was solid; squat and solid and she could set her heels in like a mule when necessary. Genny’s skin was thick and she flinched at little.  Everyone marveled at what she endured but Nana said to mark her words the time would come.  It took forty years for  Genny’s long smoldering fuse to ignite.  What a fire it made.  The brightness could be seen for miles and it raged for hours.  There wasn’t much left of the farmhouse or the out buildings after and there was nothing left of Earl.

8min @ Soveriegn Cafe, Toronto
dip source: The New Yorker, Mar. 20, 2017


He has a boat that he uses to explore

It doesn’t look like much, it could easily be mistaken for a lump of dirty soap floating and bobbing in the increasingly tepid water. The skin on her upper arm flesh starts the poultry pucker.  The shape is crudely reminiscent of a boat and it floats. Dad’s toy boat. The knife marks are still visible after all this time, roughly whittled it looks like a torpedo or strange nut shell that has been flattened on one end.  It threatens to capsize when she rubs her chilled shoulders. It rights itself and bobs along toward the faucet.  She looks at the clock, she’s been sitting in the bathtub for forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes meditating on the sole inheritance from her father.

8 min @ Manhattanville, Harlem NYC
dip source: The New Yorker, Mar. 20,2017

“The White House watched for signs”

The feud had been going for three generations. Mindy didn’t understand why Ed didn’t just sell the stupid house and move them to the city that they loved. There was absolutely nothing special about the old wood paneled rooms other than their size. The plumbing was shit, the new central air and heat system had failed them two summers and two winters in a row and the garden never got enough light to sustain a basic of herb gardens.  Sitting out there was only ever a invitation to the mosquitos that it was happy hour. They might not be able to buy their dream loft in Brooklyn, but they’d get something decent.

But It didn’t seem to matter how much schooling one had or how much world travel one experienced. The bitterness had been encoded into the genes and now it was embedded into the very marrow of Ed’s bones.  To sell would be a victory to a family of faces they would never see again, and barely saw now. There wasn’t even anybody alive who could remember the argument  between the old men. 

8 min @ Kobricks Coffee NYC
dip source:  The New Yorker March 6 2017

She had just returned from a film

If Tammy thought about it logically she could figure out exactly what film it was. It was definitely a comedy, something light.  She could tell by the way her mom bounced when she walked. It had cheered her up. She even felt like cooking so that was an even better sign, definitely the movie had had some happy domestic scenes. Tammy couldn’t figure out what the catch phrase meant but her mom smiled whenever she said it. Tammy remembered the afternoon her mom kept throwing back her head in an exaggerated laugh at everything, equally annoying was the seventies style head scarf she insisted on wearing for a week.  This was better. She heard the “Hurts good don’t it” just a second before the ceramic cup she painted in fourth grade whizzed past her temple.

8 min @ Frisson Espresso, W 47th St. NYC

excerpt from The New Yorker, February 27,2017