this blinding gilded city
an excerpt

when he had come upon the square, he entered a macy's department store. no one noticed him as he dressed himself in the finest suit he could find. no one noticed him as he casually walked out the store. the security camera footage would not be found as the night watchmen had sold the tape to a porn broker in chinatown. the suit would be marked out as "theft/fraud".

...

'and anyway,' science thot to himself, ' people only rob you when you have money. now i'm just a bum like him. didn't even have pants when we met.'

...

like a beatific vision, he was no longer in an office building in a crowded, choking city. he was standing on warm sand amongst tall coconut trees. the smell of broiled fish and liquer was pungeunt upon the air and the salty mist suggested that he stood near the ocean, tho he could see it not. the sun was red-hot and enormous; low upon the horizon it hung and inched its way into oblivion.

...

he kicked howard; almost as an afterthought he added,
"oh howard," just like in a movie, "this one was really your last chance." and then as tho to punctuate his sentence, goldfarb fired one (1) bullet directly in between howard's eyes-- the period indicating a complete thot. it was instantaneous. goldfarb had turned, sharply, on his heel before the man hit the ground. the bum on the park bench didn't even rouse.

...

she was sitting in her drawing room, where she kept her favorite paintings. she was in a silk slip and was covered in fine jewels from head-tiara to toe-ring, a joint still burned in her lifeless hand and the smell of ghanja was still heavy upon the air. the gardener said he couldn't help but smile.

"she died happy," he would tell his wife in bed that evening, "surrounded by her pictures, wearing her finest and smoking herb."

...

dichirico had been a customer of his. he had brought her a quarter-ounce of premium seedless afghan kush every other week. she would thank him, politely, invite him to bring his bike inside and sit down with her a little bit. she had always seemed rather lonely and jonas imagined she really appreciated the company of a young man. she did not berade him for his sense of style or choice of hair color as so many other old people did. she did not bore him with anecdotes of the 'good old days.' she simply rolled him a joint and a smaller one for herself. she would lite off an old fashioned table-top flame, lean back in her chair, take a long hit and on the exhale she would always say the same thing,

"so tell me, what is new?" as if she sincerely desired to know what was happening in the world outside her garden wall.

...

men and women in suits and skirts poured out upon the evening, turning the great glass revolving door like a water-mill a they came out into the balmy evening. science knew that the offices were now closed and the outside doors to the building would soon be locked. he entered the revolving door from the other side. it continued to turn with the steady flow of human bodies and, for a moment, he was contained entirely within delimitations of glass; he glanced dipassionately at the woman on the other side of the revolving door-- leaving the building as he entered it-- her gaze caut his and time stood still before his perfect chamber of glass split open and he spilled out into the lobby.

read the full text of my novel