Eating Sushi, Drinking Beer -- The Time Has Come to Leave

I put in my two weeks notice yesterday. In four I should be in New York.
Photo by Thomas Patrick Wheatley/"Toward Adel"/Somewhere on I-75/Sept. 2005

The Victims of Fibs

The truth began in Marie's approach but ended in her words. She was an actress offstage and the ideal candidate to add to this equation I had created, this perfect little world that I crafted out of white lies and black magic mathematics.

I was doing well in my business; making a killing as a matter of fact. So well that I began to slice a chunk of the pie here and there, padding my expense account while I loaded up my savings. I bought a boat, tools, a bunch of coozies and a tanning bed. I looked like a million bucks, smelled great, slept late. Unlike other schmucks, I wasn't going to slip on no banana peels.

She'd come over and we'd just tell each other lies. My colleagues would come into my office, and we'd tell each other lies. My ex-wife would call me, and she would tell me the truth. And I didn't ever wanna listen because listening just takes too much time. Like my daddy always said, just believe what you want and it'll eventually come true.
Photo by Thomas Patrick Wheatley/"Lonely Man in Paris"/Paris, France/July 2004

The Day Off in Pyongyang

I walk district by district with my hands in my pockets, stroking a rabbit's foot made from actual rabbit, not brushed cloth or stringy fabrics. I walk to the center of every street corner and then make a 90 degree turn to the right and breathe in. It is timed and appropriate and a remnant of my days in the service.

I walk the boundaries of the city and wonder if I will see the country again.

My meals are solitary, just like my radio time. My rabbit's foot is rotting I think. It is what happens when they use actual rabbit.
Photo Courtesy of the Associated Press, Undated, Uncredited