Author Archives: Jeff Stewart
Breaking the broken air.
Rotting on a rape charge no, rotting on four of them. rotting from the work of a reader who was not sound I won trial hands down, but that being said, I had to rot in county jail for … Continue reading
Uncles of Anarchy
We hauled ass up Scottsdale Road. The heat laid a blanket of death across the desert, and we poured sweat past Indian School. I hadn’t seen them in 25 years. We’d just hammered through Old Town, stopped a few … Continue reading
Windows and bullets.
42 years old roughly half a million words floating around out there published not too many, but too few, I think there should be more there should be millions but tonight there could be anything a long walk, a … Continue reading
Mozart, Slayer, reverence, and fiction.
1988. California. Thinking about my first time, thinking about the ocean 25 years back, a room, the gorgeous faux-beach-spiritual and her place: one room, a kitchen table with one chair and a bed. And on that bed, being introduced to … Continue reading
Dirty south, desperation, Dead Birds Hot.
She tossed her smoke and stumbled toward me, leaned down and put her hands on either side of my waist. “Want a lap dance?” “Sure.” I loathed strip clubs, could count on one hand how many times I’d been in … Continue reading
Motel 6. Arizona. Small break on the tour for the Lolly book, a commercial book of sorts for which I was hired. It’s been interesting for me. The main reason I took the job was because of the strictures—to have … Continue reading
The Native down in the corner cell with the shower, I don’t like the motherfucker, and he doesn’t like me. He was getting released in the morning a month back, when a female C.O. walked by and caught him jacking … Continue reading
Life for all of this
A lot of ex-cons and drunks lived in the building. My room was the corner spot on the 3rd floor. The old man in the room next to me was deaf. The girl in the room across from me … Continue reading
Car hoods and space.
The desert met us at nightfall in New Mexico, but we had stopped in the Texas Panhandle to look at the stars. They were bright and close to the desert, dusty and forever, and bulging from their firmaments −swirls of … Continue reading
Calculating Infinity; the grace of near-death.
The boat was rocking so bad you could run up and down the door frames. People like to imagine the ocean as being blue and beautiful. I used to imagine it that way. When you’re that far out at … Continue reading