Big Al
Project

I have been left behind. Behind what? It looms ahead, terrible and unforgiving. Like in the dream, I dare not approach IT.  No further than my shadow, but twice as fast. Like when you AND the light move, but more. More elusive. So much so, possibly doesn’t exists. Does God? Big Foot? Not fair you say. Okay, how about money? You? Be real now. You don’t follow? You have been left behind. Damn, it happens all the time.                 The carrot looks swell, does it not? Look ca

I was loaded, but nothing in comparison to my driver. He was coloring outside the lines, drink in one hand, and shifter in the other. I removed my seatbelt and took a big swig from my caguama, I saw no point. Cars were passed, blind corners tested. At the apex of the slightest bend, he would stomp the gas. The man driving went by Tio, as in uncle, to my friend, who brought me here. Why did I trust this man? Our last and only encounter was when I arrived to Morelia, Tio picked

In anxious anguish my eyes burn holes through the ceiling above my bed. The tunnel of my vision penetrates far beyond this cursed town in which I am hostage. From anything of remote resemblance to myself I run, but in folly I trip over my own roots. They rip through the damp stagnate earth, taking control of my momentary lapse. I smile in the glorious release of suffocation. I am dragged from the peak of my delusion, forced into compliance, stomped on by mankind, and laughed

I am writing to the void inside of me. I scoff at the depths of dread, as if everything will go away. But the conflict must be addressed, now or later. Better now. I have spent many years running from the sands of time, but I find my step goes no further than my very first. I am nowhere but here, nothing but exhausted. Running in fear, fear in running, fear in fear. Every step I make, what do you take? I recognize this obvious fact and stop. Insanity would pursue with continu

I’m ever so tired, and the car did not break. They never do. As I lock eyes with the driver, the engine screams in excitement. Objects in motion stay in motion, unless the miserable bastard wises up. Why tip the domino? But he does and we suffer forever after. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Rolling on the ground, laughter on all sides. Maybe I am laughing at how I bounced off the hood, an impact that would have knocked the lights of any deer. Or maybe I am laughing at the ne

Me, a feral chicken? I can see you have been wiping your ass with that mouth. Are you calling me a liar? I am left with no choice; I throw down the gauntlet. I challenge you to a Big Bird Year, you grouch. The remainder of 2026 shall be spent in observation of our flighty little friends. The winner shall be determined by the longest species list on eBird. I don’t give a hoot if you saw a rare snow goose earlier this year, he was as lost as you are. We are starting fresh, Febr

Since the beginning of man, he has sought eternal life in mythical fountains and violent exploitation. The cost of human life is nothing in comparison. In the name of God and the community, many have been punished for someone else’s foolish greed. But when alone at night they roll in rot, suffering from the time they have truly squandered. In its pursuit, they run from the time they hold so sacred. At least a dog keeps his tail in sight. While they scatter, I pick up the seco

I am a scrap yard baby. Born in the tangle of conduit and wire, day by day for tomorrow. The other half looks down upon my home and notices the animals crawling around in violence and despair. I look down at them, eyes bulging in a slow strangulation by cashmere scarfs. They snuffle, shuffle, and move on. I bound along in my freedom. My chains do not tie me down, they sell. Precious metals and processes and sorting. The industrial hum machine churns, grinds, destroys waste, s

Righteous rat, how you jump. Have your pellets gone stale? The race is over, back to the corner it is. Is it? Was it ever? Maybe always. It should never have gotten this far. Twitchy little rat nose smells evil, it must be so. You verse the world; I cannot place blame. The system has failed. Try to see, the rat across from you is in the same race, the same corner. He is not jumping at you; he is jumping with you.                 I filled the empty void this week with an obser

Misfortune struck this morning, our boat and captain were lost at sea. Yesterday, I saw a small child and two lifeguards beat to death by rocks in the riptide. A nihilist case study, live in Puerto Rico. After the boat fiasco, kayaks were the only remaining vessel.  Launching from the small fishing town of La Parguera, we headed for the mangrove cays off the coast. Let me be precise.     “Cayo Caracoles is a picturesque mangrove cay and sandbar in the calm, clear waters o

Do they gather for fear of friendship? Drifting in a drunken stupor of money and margaritas, pleading for affirmation on the beaches of Puerto Rico. It is all here under the San Juan sun, on the sand and shore. The palm trees lean in and whisper a secret: You made it. “But where?” they cry, to no reply. Maybe it was just the wind. With an empty glass of Don Q rum punch in my hand, I stumble into the sea of umbrellas. The delusional smell of sunscreen blinds me, but I forge o

A line to the hydraulic press burst, and our rig and geotechnical investigation stopped dead in its tracks. This was hardly a surprise; nobody thought our rig would last this long. The project was at a gold mine in one of the most violent states in Mexico, Zacatecas, so there was no promise we would ever get the rig home. Or us for that sake. Anything here was dispensable. So, the shittiest rig in the fleet was sent and my job was to keep it running. The procedure for fixing

Everything you can do now can’t be done later. We fight for control to pass time, but as singular objects in this space here and now, nothing is repeatable. Control, my ass. Passing the moment and investing in a single, volatile venture. It may mature or fold your account. Make the call and sell at the first profit. I win at scrabble. I do not know how to spell and my vocabulary, while improving, is of a fifteen-year-old Pre-iPad baby. The trick is to play what yo

The expression of writing is lost to type. My laptop spews thoughts like a freight train, I cannot keep up. Mistakes dissolve and the margins make up their own mind. A new thought, how could I forget! Back back back, nobody knows. Forwards and backwards. Genius? Lost! I missed the train for an empty thought. Now I have nothing. I wait for the next train. I could have been halfway there, but now nowhere. Stupid train.                 Past fights now; nothing triumphs. I am los

Golf is boring, and so are you. To the untrained eye, golf is as interesting as your high school paper on James Garfield's foreign policy. A dumb game for your dull brain. It is not two objects of chance fighting for victory, but man vs himself. He ignores his inherent imperfections, scoffing at God himself. There is a crisp thwack on contact, man to club, club to ball. In this moment he touches perfection and immortality. He is God. If you have never had this encounter, cont

You will only find home a handful of times in your life, and mostly in the refuge of reminiscence. Home was in a black berry bush fort, where I stockpiled wild apples in case I must run away. It was in an empty classroom where I cried when I had nowhere else to go. It was in a lover, who kept me safe in this scary world. Further into my fundamentals, their role becomes clear. My path is lit as I run into darkness. We are molded by the fleeting past which determines our mind’s

The devil adores Love Island. The drama, the personalities, he simply can’t get enough. Individuals are of paramount importance, for the hierarchy of man starts with top and bottom. Characters are shuffled and stacked until everyone has lost their place and world revolves only in your direct proximity. The bottom falls to mediocrity, and the top goes straight to hell. Satan’s tail twitches in excitement. Unsanctioned pits of moral degradation fill lonely valleys with tainte

Where the tire meets trail is the edge. Mountain bikers crave success, the fine line between mediocracy and failure. Success in moderate proportions is considered mediocracy, looked down upon by all, and the enemy of a perfectionist. Failure is unfathomable. A mountain biker with moderate success does not clear jumps. They walk the bike down rocky sections. Never will they ride expert trails. On the other hand, failure can result in catastrophic injury. Success in this sport

There is always tomorrow for dreams to come true, and I am a dreamer. Weeks fly by in a rapid succession, from longest to shortest. In that order. The illusion that the past reflects the future sways many to cherish tomorrow over today. Still, we must make a prediction as not to be petrified by the eternal mystery of tomorrow. We hold our nose to the grinder one week to ensure the mistakes of yesterday are not repeated, but this often results in the disfigurement of our faces

“I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.” – An esteemed journalist and philosopher. I was in a dark place, ripped apart between my debilitating addiction to Pina Colada milkshakes and the rat race. Greed found me a job I hated, with people I despised, and a town I did not fit in. In Heber City, the Mormon stronghold of Utah, I lived in a cubical of sadness. I was a construction management bitch monkey, paid to dou