an old writer and his words

  • IF ONLY A BULL

    In our family Murphy was a god, and his law was the eleventh commandment. I often wanted to ask at what moment my childhood ended. Had to be before my twelfth birthday, before the day on which I went from greeter at one of my father’s business parties in our oversized family room, to bartender,…

    Lou Faber

  • VICTIM OF TECHNOSTANCE

    He says, “it’s like learning to walk again after you’ve had a stroke, you know you can but nothing seems to work quite right when you try.” She says, “you just upgrading from one model iPhone to the newer model, so don’t overplay it, it isn’t a matter of life itself you know. And if…

    Lou Faber

  • GOING BANANAS

    She examines each banana looking at it from all sides, looking down its shaft as though sighting a rifle. Each banana, in turn, she gently places back on the pile. My patience grows thin, but I smile and ask her if I might approach the bin, grab a small bunch of bananas, be done with…

    Lou Faber

  • SEOUL OF A NEW MACHINE

    I Apartment buildings sprout, neat orderly, so many headstones in a cemetery marking the gravesite of ancient rural culture. II A slow morning in Itaewon, for you special deal finest leather, best quality gems, but I prefer precipitously plunging prices of Rollex’s last chance, $6. III Apartment building faces studded with small satellite dishes perched…

    Lou Faber

  • CHECKOUT LINE

    Time seems frozen in the checkout line stuck between the Mars bars and the tabloids, you wonder how Liz could survive a total body liposuction, and further details of how OJ killed in a moment of lust. The old woman in front rummages in her change purse certain she has the eighty-seven cents, the coins…

    Lou Faber