an old writer and his words

  • REFRAMED DREAMS

    In my reframed dreamI am sitting in a smoky bar,bathed in the neon of Roppongi.with the sour smell of Sapporo and Asahiwafting up from the beer-damp floor.I don’t want to be here, wantto be miles and miles from this placein the shadows of Mount Wakakusawalking slowly through Todai-jiin search of something I haveyet to find,…

    Lou Faber

  • GALWAY HIGH STREET

    She must be what, in her thirties nowbut in my mind she will alwaysbe nineteen, maybe twenty, shewill always be standing outsidethe boarded over windows of a storefronton High Street, most likely a mauvenubby skirt reaching just over the topof what might be Doc Martens, blackcardigan over a black turtleneckher fiddle tucked under her chin,the…

    Lou Faber

  • LILAC FESTIVAL

    It is nota signof the apocalypseor shouldn’t be. The parkis redolentwith the scentof lilacs in blossom. You can smell itblocks away,and they flockunder the watchfuleye of the crowsto the carny trailers for kettle corn,roasted coated nuts,cotton candyand the beer tent waitingfor the musicas the lilacs sitforlornly wonderingwhen theyceased to matter. First Published in Flora Fiction,…

    Lou Faber

  • A NIGHT AT THE ROSE

    Three beers over two hours and, giddy, I want to sing along with the Irish house band in my horribly off-key voice, just two choruses of Irish Rover or Four Green Fields. It’s beginning to snow outside and it’s a four-block walk to the Government Center station. I suppose it would sober me up but…

    Lou Faber

  • SUSHI

    We sit around the Tatami table thankful for the leg well redemption for aging knees, and socks without holes. We drink the sake warm and cold, and the Sapporo from the oversized bottles each pouring for the other as a proper host must. Several recall nights on Roppongi, or earlier on the Ginza, moments lucid…

    Lou Faber

  • LATE NIGHT, RITZ CARLTON, SEOUL

    A seemingly endless stream of young Thai men pour out of room 314 like so many clowns tumbling out of a miniature Volkswagen Beetle in the center ring. They laugh, chattering, lacking only oversized shoes to complete the image. They stand by the elevator in a contagion of giggles. After half an hour they return,…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AFTERNOON SPENT

    We sit around a small table in the YAK Coffee and Beer on the edge of Namdaemun listening to loud pop songs on tinny speakers. The Hite Beer bottles sweat dripping on the Formica table down our backs the dankness of the subway clinging to us, bathed in the smoke from the couples hunched over…

    Lou Faber

  • KANGNAM STYLE

    The kimchi and pickles are presented in neat Celadon dishes carefully arranged on the small table. The meat sizzles on the iron dome resting above the bucket of orange hot coals set into the table littered with half empty and fully drained bottles of Hite beer and thimble glasses of Soju. The waitress snips the…

    Lou Faber