Bad Moods

Leaving Me

Jewel looks up at me, sad eyes blinking at the sky. “Leaving me, leaving me, leaving me,” she says. “Everyone is always leaving me.”

My Life

That’s it. That’s all there is. My life. My sordid life.

The Years

The years. The long years. The sadness of the years.

The Preterite

Like Caesar, like Jewel, like the Zone. Doomed, all three. Destined for the footnotes, for the archives.


Jewel is a hippie chick who lives in the Zone. Caesar is Jewel’s pet California Condor. The Zone is in California. Jewel lives there.


Lindsay, Robert. 1979. Meandering in the Midzone. The Thief of Love on the Loose in the Last American Frontier. Unpublished fiction.

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10 thoughts on “Bad Moods”

    1. Yeah, my professor was totally freaked out by this stuff. He’d never seen anything like it in all his time teaching creative writing. He said this is what Pynchon’s stuff must have looked like when he was first sketching it out.

      But I never finished it. I’m a notorious underachiever, and plus, like most good writers, deep down inside, I think I my writing really, really sucks

    1. It’s got good rhythm to it. One of the most important things about good prose in English, or probably in any language, is rhythm. Great prose should almost sing, it should almost sound like music. Even better when you can be like Joyce and actually make your prose visible along with being audible (music). When you make your prose visible, you are painting little pictures with words.

      So in this way great literature should mirror the visual and aural arts like music and art.

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