I saw a man turning left in his car last week, and it unsettled me because he made the turn while barking. Barking over and over out the window. Not like a dog barking; it was a strange vocalization almost like a sneeze, like, “Aff! Aff! Aff! Aff!” But I tell you, those were no sneezes. They were barks.
He still bothered to use his winker, which around here is an overachievement.
“Aff! Aff!” Indicate. Check mirror. Smooth hand-over-hand motion. “Aff!”
The man probably suffered from a mental illness, but his left turn form was top-notch. The rest of us are doomed and should be ashamed of ourselves.
Continue reading “Intersection”
The less I write on this site, the more the writing on this site becomes centered around apologizing for not writing more on this site, but The Hammering Heart was never intended as a blog about not writing, so I will spare any excuses and simply say, “Hello.”
This past summer was defined in part by a series of wakeup calls. Each of the calls suggested that, despite how I’ve constructed an identity for myself as a Guy who Likes Japanese Film, I might not actually be that into Japanese film. Continue reading “On the State of the Japanese Film Industry and Also Myself”
For future reference, the above image displays how I was dressed today, as well as the perplexity I am still experiencing. I would like to avoid taking any more selfies this year.
It was well past noon by the time I got myself out the front door of my place, and the previous night was to blame. Remember Japan? My memory fades in and out, but over my hauntingly-close-to-three years back in the States, I’ve connected with a few good men and women who may be called upon to come together and serve up a reminder that everything used to be totally different. Among those every things, I used to stay out until 3 a.m. a lot more. I used to also have nightmares a lot more. A healthy first-time-in-awhile reunion reawoke both old habits.
So I was getting a late start. Destined for a train to the city and late as I was, I nevertheless plotted to first stop at a café for drugs and things. I mean basically.
Continue reading “Hipster – A True Tale from the Futuristic Noir Life of Greg (Part 1)”