FIRST ENDING Rain plays rhythms on my coat and hood as I make my way to the inevitable meetup. I use these beats to block out any thoughts of the approaching confrontation. Puddles jump up in surprise and protest as I rudely slam the weight of my feet down in the midst of their watery realities. I hurry, unfazed by these reactive pushbacks. The target location is just in sight. I steel myself lunging forward. The fight is on. I arrive. Though the place is lit outside, inside seems dark. This is the assigned location. Ground zero. It should be open for business. If necessary, we have this showdown in the street. There is no going back. I push the door. It opens. I move in. In the darkness I see bodies seated around the room. I’ll wait here… Mid-thought, my opponent is upon me. “Let’s do this.” “Yes, lets.” Suddenly, there’s light and… “SURPRISE!!!” “What…” Laughter and glee ring out. I am surrounded. “You are so easy to play. I knew the best way to get you to show was to pick a fight.” “What…” More laughter. “No friendships are ending tonight. Everyone…” “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The rain outside beats a rhythmic, “Celebration time, come on.… Read the rest “One Story, Two Endings”
After a tearful goodbye in mid-August, my companion and I returned from the snow-capped peaks of central Oregon, a place where a mere 2,700 years ago, molten lava had inundated the valley. Sadly now, my younger sister suffers a terminal cancer, likely the result of prolonged use of chemicals in the cleaning of rustic second homes owned by the rich. Yes, we all struggle to make ends meet. Hey, after 25 years of my having resided in one place, a 3rd landlord within three years demanded that I empty my basement storage locker, after which he would raise my rent by $150. Note: under the previous lease that voluminous space was filled to the brim with books from the long gone Paul Robeson Marxist Bookstore, and no, I did not relish being temporarily enslaved. Moreover, over a projected 20 years, I was to become bankrupt! So, I gave notice. So then, immediately upon my return from Oregon, I was the subject of an interview with the Cityview Condo Co-op Board, which offered housing north of Franklin on Eliot Avenue. Gosh, I was exhausted and suffering from a lung infection or perhaps I had failed to pull up my zipper.… Read the rest “Raise Your Voice: Oct ’23”
Raise Your Voice: Oct ’23
Break on Through
By PETER MOLENAAR
After a tearful goodbye in mid-August, my companion and I returned from the snow-capped peaks of central Oregon, a place where a mere 2,700 years ago, molten lava had inundated the valley. Sadly now, my younger sister suffers a terminal cancer, likely the result of prolonged use of chemicals in the cleaning of rustic second homes owned by the rich. Yes, we all struggle to make ends meet.
Hey, after 25 years of my having resided in one place, a 3rd landlord within three years demanded that I empty my basement storage locker, after which he would raise my rent by $150. Note: under the previous lease that voluminous space was filled to the brim with books from the long gone Paul Robeson Marxist Bookstore, and no, I did not relish being temporarily enslaved. Moreover, over a projected 20 years, I was to become bankrupt! So, I gave notice.
So then, immediately upon my return from Oregon, I was the subject of an interview with the Cityview Condo Co-op Board, which offered housing north of Franklin on Eliot Avenue. Gosh, I was exhausted and suffering from a lung infection or perhaps I had failed to pull up my zipper.… Read the rest “Raise Your Voice: Oct ’23”