If you’ve been sitting around, just itching to be somewhere else, this just might be the book for you.  more…

 


 

 

 Annamaria and The King of Severance

     (An excerpt from Sex Drugs and Unix.) On his way out of my office, he intentionally hooked a leg around a cable coming out of my computer monitor, so that it crashed to the ground as he passed. But his nastiness backfired on him when a glass shard sliced through his pants and into his ankle. He left a bloody trail all the way to the elevator.
Annamaria’s reaction as she entered my office a minute later, was to glance down at the blood and say, “Bob, in this country we don’t usually find it necessary to maim people when we fire them.”
more…

 


 

 

 The Interview

     I used to know a guy who packed an open-carry mandolin everywhere he went. He’d invade Jake’s Cafeteria with that mandolin strapped to his chest, find a table in a corner and play it hard at anyone who came near unless they were bearing an instrument. If someone armed with an instrument approached, he’d point his mandolin at them and pick two or three rapid phrases. If they could play along he’d stay if not they’d sheepishly slink away. He never had to say a word, which wasn’t surprising because he’d never been known to speak.
more…

 


 

 On the road to Madrid

     It’s taken two days to come unglued from the island. Yesterday we sat in the little airport waiting for a plane that arrived, took one look at the cloudbank that was enshrouding Ikaria and turned around and left. It rained in the early evening, cleared for a while and there was a bit of lightning over distant islands, but none close enough for us to hear their thunder.
more…

 


 

 

 Gassed in Athens

     The smoke from the tear gas made its way into the tiny crowded room and there was no relief. Finally we realized that the only escape was to force ourselves out of the room, through the restaurant, into the street and away from the scene. The manager held us each by an arm as we opened the door. I glanced to my right and saw a smoking gas canister five feet away. We were hit even harder this time and almost overwhelmed.
more…

 


 


 

 

[rps]

 

 

 


Photographs by Alex Morton

The soul of Greece is written on the buildings of Athens. The walls are splashed with announcements of political meetings, slogans and references to the upheaval of the past few years. But everywhere, too, the eye rests on beautiful paintings, touching poetry, and wry humor in unexpected places.

[more]

The train is an express that roars along between stations for several minutes at a time, with the car’s lights blinking off for thirty seconds or more at a stretch. In the midst of one of the blackouts, the door to the next car suddenly bursts open, the lights pop back on, and three teenagers in track suits burst into our car as if laying claim to it.

“Don’t nobody move,” the biggest of them shouts.

Don’t none of us move. Don’t nobody even notice them except me, and I instantly try to become as invisible as possible for an eleven year old in a suit and tie with shoes that have just been “chrome shined” by Eddie the shoeshine guy. And, oh yeah, with a piece of jewelry in my pocket worth as much as a new Cadillac.

[more]


Past Posting

“Here’s one for sure, Sonny,” Uncle Walter said, holding up his paper and pointing to a name. “This horse has only one eye. Now, at first you might think it’s crazy betting on a one-eyed horse, but let me show you something here. If that horse is racing and he’s only got one eye, there’s gotta be something really good about him, or they’d a sold him to the glue factory long ago. Look at who’s up on him. I know that jockey, and he’s the cleverest son of a bitch around. If anyone can make a half blind horse come in he’s your boy. That’s as sure a win as if you were past posting.”


On the Road to Ephesus

Mina and I grasp hands together more tightly, still thrilled by the adventure. But our mood isn’t shared by the other passengers. When the wind shakes loose one of the sail ties, and the canvas begins to whap against the boom, one of the women begins to shriek louder than the wind.

“She’s praying,” Mina tells me.
“And she means it.”


General Pizza

It was the first time I’d seen Gold since his funeral.

 

Some
of Alex Morton’s
sailing stories can be found here: