monster in the suburbs
Hanging Out with Vidal Sassoon

Hanging Out with Vidal Sassoon

Late in the afternoon, the wife goes to her chiropractor appointment. I run upstairs to my office to finally get some writing done, some real work, the stuff of élan vital, the juice.

A minute after the computer boots, cramps knot my lower abdomen. I hobble to the bathroom.

Five minutes later I’m still on the throne. Experiencing some difficulty. I try to remember my diet of the last 24-36 hours…

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All I Want for Christmas…

All I Want for Christmas…

EDITOR’S NOTE: While Monster continues to evade suburban radar, we discovered the following stuck in the out-going mail drop. Evidently Monster intended to get this to someone –though the envelope was badly soiled, poorly addressed and not stamped, criteria for inviting the scrutiny of the US Postal Service. So we are grateful the damned thing became stuck in the chute. Now we know, as most…

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5:15 am

Up on the freeway. Gotta get to work early. Good god, where did all these people come from? I expected myself and a few other fools but damn, this is ridiculous.

I shouldn’t be too surprised. Several years ago we broke the 7:00 am mark. As in, leave after seven am to get to work – even a few miles down the road – and you could kiss goodbye getting there on time. My wife commented just a year ago…

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Conflagration

Late again to work. (What else is new?) Actually still at the house waiting for my pants to dry. Dryer has practically quit doing its job except every other Sunday. And today is Wednesday. I’m hoping for just a case of lint clogging the exhaust portal but I need to drag the fucking enormous device out of the tiny “wash room” closet into the very tiny hallway which will leave just enough room for…

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up there Mars

My nine year-old gets

mad, stomps off in the

middle of our

conversation – I’m not

done talking, he’s never

done talking. We get

nowhere a lot.

Part of me wants

to go after him,

grab him, spank

the manners into

him. Part of me wants to

hug him, tell him that

whatever he says or does

I WILL LOVE him.

Neither happens.

Exhausted

by my day, I sit

on the edge

of the bed.

My wife already

asleep. My…

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Grandmaster Putin

[EDITOR’S NOTE: We found this additional commentary on the World Cup in one of Monster’s errant notebooks. Given the recent truce in eastern Ukraine and Putin’s non non-involvement with its existence, it seemed a foretelling piece to publish…granted, after the fact.]

Because the one in Brazil is still fresh on the minds, the mention has been made of whether Russia should be allowed to host the…

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Open Letter for the Alaska Quarterly Review

Open Letter for the Alaska Quarterly Review

To the Fine Folk holding the purse strings of the University of Alaska-Anchorage:

It has come to my attention you are considering retiring the Alaska Quarterly Review, a literary journal 32 years standing, which has published some of my favorite writers and some people never heard of before climbing from the pages of AQR.

And is that not the point:  to expose good writing to good eyes. By the…

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Hot

[Quick EDITOR’S NOTE: As we have mentioned, Monster seems to have gone a sort of walkabout. Here at HQ the A/C fizzled out, giving us another opportunity to discover how less than forthcoming Monster was about the lack of coin in the coffers. Thus, we thought it fitting as we melt here in the office and Monster bursts into flame in the Gila Desert [One can only hope – Associate Editor] to post…

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A Note from the Editor

A Note from the Editor

When it became apparent a few weeks ago that we lacked Monster’s weekly submission but not for the usual reasons (laziness, exhaustion, testing of various muscle relaxants), we of course made the usual inquiries. Was he trapped by deadlines at his “cursed job, the punishment for early and late sins” [his description]? Had he for some reason entered a mall and gone delirious with all the inane and…

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Or Maybe It Won’t

Or Maybe It Won’t

Monster’s 6th (and final?) Report of the World Cup

Seems like a lifetime ago that the Germans marched into Brazil and won the War of the World Cup, Gotze taking Schurrle’s spot-on pass on his chest and punching in the game-winning goal.

Since then Israel initiated their biennial training exercise for new recruits, a.k.a. bombing and invading the shit out of Gaza. I know, I know, that’s what…

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This Madness, too, Shall Pass

This Madness, too, Shall Pass

Monster’s 5th Report of the World Cup

The third place game is today, the Champion will be crowned tomorrow. The world thinks it has come to grips with Brazil falling so easily and far, but it only holds its breath for what it thinks might be redemption with a third place win over the Dutch but as Van Gaal says, the game is pointless. Neymar’s absence proved that Brazil was not a powerhouse this…

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√16 = 4

Monster’s 4th Report of the World Cup

Disoriented. Washed and broken against the rocky shore. Nothing like being back at work. Damned job. Course, cursing it seems to get me nowhere, so enough with the cursing. But damn the job for making it difficult to watch four of the eight Second Stage games. A blur of watching on the tiny ass phone screen, listening to Spanish stations in the car – only…

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Three Games = 16

Three Games = 16

Monster’s 3rd Report of the World Cup

Two weeks already gone. My freedom soon up. Monday blues comin round again. How did this happen so quickly? Too many unused charcoal briquettes. Thought there would be more time. Also the rain and the mosquitos ganged up on me, kept driving me inside.

The thought of work gave me a sore throat. And my back aches. Course, that might have more to do with…

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