A Thank-You Card / 15 February 2002

I taught you how to play that song, spreading your fingers wide, slowing the tempo way down at first, sometimes not even able to face you. “You are butchering that accordion.” Jamming my thumbs in my eyes and trying to massage the knots out. I will admit now that I felt like you were holding me back. I was pinning my hopes to the flat, freckled chest of a nobody. So I went for long walks. I sat at the picnic bench and drew pictures alongside the crossword puzzles: me being hoisted upon the shoulders of a lunatic throng, me revealing a small and humble smile, me lost in the rapture of some phrase. After the tenth trek to the park I returned home and heard you — the notes strong, flawless, piercing in their cold beauty. The song had been drained of all heartbreak and rebuilt as a mechanical threnody. I danced and applauded and kissed your tearless eyes. How did you do it? and oh I don’t care, I don’t care, you were my ticket out of there after all, your sweet loathing taking us straight to the top, my darling, my baby.

Previously / A Valentine
Next / A Sunday Drone

Joshua Green Allen

Fireland is a rickety old website by Joshua Allen.

A novel called Chokeville and a beverage-review site called The Knowledge For Thirst.

A great deal of typing is collected in the Archive.

Articles and whatnot for other sites, including The Morning News, Wired, and McSweeney's, can be found in External.

I've been involved in a number of Epiphany Sink pictures.

I record music under the name Orifex.

The RSS feed is here.

Join the notify list for extremely infrequent updates via email.

The Sexiest Sentence Alive, Fireland Broke My Will To Live, The Black Pill Diaries, and a sampling of Old Fireland Designs.

I can be contacted at .


♦ ♦ ♦