Monday, November 21, 2011


Seen outside the Lawrence Red Line stop at about 12:30 p.m., November 20th, 2011

Walt pushes his small voice above the rumbling of the train: “Would you like to buy one of my drawings? I just want something to eat.” He tilts his portfolio to the pedestrians, but they keep their smiles and conversations, their determined dashes to dates and appointments, and their grateful sips of Starbucks facing forwards. It is not entirely their fault. On this winter day, Walt’s pale skin and shabby clothes blend into the gray sky and cold buildings. He’s just a part of the scenery.

Furthermore, were they to look at his portfolio, they would be unimpressed. There is no great talent here. Walt offers them drawings of superheroes, but they are all wrong. Batman appears lethargic; his frame contains no tension, no drive to fight. And Superman’s body is weirdly thin, the Man of Steel reduced to a man in a stupid costume. There is no truth or justice on these pages. Walt will not sell a single one.  

Wrote this one about a guy I saw on the way to the Chicago Book Expo yesterday. That was fun. I went to a flash fiction workshop, and I bought a book on writing flash fiction, so hopefully I can continue to hone my craft. 

Boy am I glad this is a short week. I am awfully tired. I should sleep more. Story of my life. 

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