Crease Magazine

    Its all about story right? at the end of the day it is all about story. Her story and His story and the legends of another time. Time. A way to calculate the lost.a way to grow in spite of yourself. A longing for the end of discomfort Begrudging but accepting the new lot of life.         

An Ethertown Tale. The Ave., last bastion of wild freedom, is where Albert found himself after his latest fight with Jane. He Climbed down the stone wall onto the old train track rusted and overgrown with summer. Walking down to his favorite spot, where for innumerable teenage nights he slept under uncertain stars, he found charlie sitting underneath the great graffiti spider. A cold Tallboy of Beer in one hand and a slow burning cigarette in the other. “Hey Albie Boy, what brings you to the Ave. tonight?” Charlie asks. “Ehh, not too much” is Alberts have hearted reply, as he kicks a rock into a puddle left from a already forgotten rain. “I just needed to get out for a while, take a walk, think.” “ALways good, Always good” Charlie Replies, offering Albert A beer, Who obliges hastily. “I’m here for much the same reason” Charlie Says, “I have been up for about thirty six hours now and I am not the least bit tired. I went downtown today without so much as train fare. I jumoed the fucking ...

The Outer Order Archives   Home   ▼ Tuesday, June 4, 2019 Ethertown: A Prose Collage (excerpt) Antique music coffee poured and swallowed enough bad free verse she says grabbed her coat and put down her $12 to leave the listless fisticuff Ruff Cuts dispersed Insidious to invest in  and retrieve The Ghost hollowed-out and Ghastly grinning hangs out front for her with head-spinning what else but one of three beginnings how weird will it get. Ariel Baxter walked into Wilson's bruised old bookstore just another 20 years old graphic design student in need of cash. There was a dust-covered old Bell rusted sitting neatly on the corner of a giant table that appears to act as a register. she rang the bell.  Steve Wilson stammered out of the back room, an arm load of books in his hands and wildly unruly hair on his head with thick black glasses perched on his face.   "may I help you" he asked Ariel. "Yes I'm here about the job posting in the daily Raven." Steve's f...

Growing up in the Inner City, as I did,  a love of art was not necessarily encouraged.  that is not to say there were not some well-meaning  teachers and librarians who's sorry young kid more  interested in words then he was and baseballs and did their best to encourage. I think one of the things that was different about me though, was that I was equally as fascinated with the street. I like to look at it from a distance. sometimes it got a little too close because I was right there in it. it's strange to be a bookworm the time that I was coming of age. people still had clearly defined lines then and roles like actors in a play. if you liked books, You are a nerd. If you like sports, you are a jock. And if you do drugs behind the school walk the streets and hustle innocence  then you probably are related to me. Louis Malle at Lewis Mall. I just watched Black Moon by Louis Malle, my father live at Lewis Mall,  I'm fighting off a cold for nearly two weeks now...