My short story Come Here made into a short film:



Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged art, art house, comedy, couples, dating, entertainment, fiction, film, flash fiction, friends, friendship, fun, Harold and Maude, hipster, humor, kitsch, life, lifestyle, love, media, people, relationships, romance, sarcasm, short film, video, videos, wise ass, writing
Photograph by Nadia Lavard, whose photograph blog can be seen here and her regular blog here.
It was time for him to run, and he knew it.
The footsteps of security guards echoed up the stairs that led to the rooftop; the door would burst open any second now. But he had to say it once more.
He cupped his fingerless-gloved hands and yelled it one more time. “I love you Julia Jane Mayer!” He watched as she blew kisses up at him from four stories below accompanied by a huge grin; his heart skipped and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He turned and started running as fast as he could toward the fire escape he’d used to get up there. He could hear her yelling, “Run!” with a laugh and he pumped his legs as fast as he could.
The door was opened with such force that it slammed against the wall and he didn’t even turn to look back as he reached the edge and climbed over the side.
He could see the guards, four of them, all overweight, first look in the direction he’d come from, then one pointed. “There!”
“Hey, you!” screamed another.
He smiled, waved and slid down the ladder out of sight.
Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged art, beauty, couples, fiction, flash fiction, friends, friendship, hipster, humor, I love you, life, love, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, relationships, romance, rooftop, writing
“I’ve never seen a balloon cause so much trouble!”
“I know, right?” she said to me.
We had just finished watching the 1956 French classic Le Balloon Rouge, or The Red Balloon.
“That kid got into so much trouble!” she said. I nodded. “How did you know there was so little dialogue?”
“Someone told me.” I had come up with the idea of creating our own soundtrack to it, side two of Françoise Hardy’s Maid in Paris, then side one of the Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin record.
“It made it more fun, didn’t it?”
“Oui!”
“Dork.”
She fell back onto the couch and started staring at the ceiling. “I’m glad we didn’t
sell them.”
“Even though we could use the money.”
“Money can’t replace the beauty of those records.”
Someone had just offered me a shit-ton of money for my collection of record française. Yeah right, like I would part with them.
“Yeah right, like I would part with them. I lugged half of them all the way across Montreal, and most of the others, I left clothing behind in Paris for those. They are definitely worth more than money to me.”
“Me too. They’re half the reason I liked you at first.”
“Very funny.”
“Fine, that’s a lie, but on the first date it is how you lured me back to your place. French records, a little wine, you sure know how to make a girl melt.”
“You’d be surprised how often that line works. I have a nice collection of French records at my place…”
“Nice.” She frowned. “Wait, you are kidding, right?”
“Of course. I’ve never shared these records with another woman.” She looked at me. “What?”
“Never?
I thought about it and decided to come clean. “Fine, fine, I have tried. None of
them appreciated them.”
“Not as much as me, right?” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me into her arms.
“Nope!” I said as I kissed her. We made out for a bit until the needle started scratching against nothing, then returned to its arm rest.
“Should I flip it?” she asked. “Or should we maybe watch the movie again with the real audio, just to see if the effect is different?”
I smiled and picked up the remote to start the movie again. The balloon once again floated down to the little boy and I laughed as he was once again told he could not bring it on the bus, thus being late for school again.
“I’ve never seen a balloon cause so much trouble.”
Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged Balloon Rouge, comedy, dates, dating, entertainment, fiction, flash fiction, Francaise, Francoise Hardy, French, friends, friendship, fun, hipsters, humor, Jane Birkin, life, lifestyle, love, movies, music, people, photography, photos, pictures, random, records, relationships, romance, Serge Gainsbourg, silly, The Red Balloon, vinyl
She knew it was time for her big debut, the photo shoot of a lifetime. After painstakingly going through her vast wardrobe, she found her favorite outfit, a flowing off-white sundress with purple and yellow stripes, her favorite colors. After making sure she was not being watched, she slipped out of her jumper and into the dress, carefully looking both ways as she did so. It wouldn’t be right to expose herself to her fans like some common starlet.
She went to her three-way mirror and started applying makeup, careful to keep it sensible yet beautiful. She wanted to draw attention to her best assets, her beautiful brown eyes and her pouty lips that brought her so much fame. Finished with that, she looked up and down her shoe closet, and decided after much thought to go barefoot for the shoot.
Now for the pose. She put her hand on her chin, tapping away at her cheek as she always did when deep in thought, and looked around the room for the perfect spot. They would be here any minute, and she wanted to show how professional she was by being completely prepared. Her eyes landed on the merry-go-round horse she’d been given by her first co-star, a famous actor who would remain nameless to avoid tabloid speculation. Footsteps could be heard, and she knew she only had a moment to prepare as she jumped on the plaster animal and struck the perfect post against the pole.
The door opened and a man in white walked in, surveying the scene. He carried, not a camera, but a small cup of water and some pills. She suddenly looked around the room, realizing she was sitting on a bedpost and wearing only a white sheet with purple and yellow stripes.
“Time for your medication, Miss Doe.”
Photograph by Adam Courtney and model Suzy Lanza whose blog is can be found here.
They put their vacation on hold for a few minutes when they saw the flea market sign. He slammed on the brakes, throwing a cloud of dust up from the dirt road their GPS lead them to, and made a quick turn.
“Is it okay?”
“Of course it is!” she said with an excited smile. “Although we really don’t need bait or ice.”
“Very funny,” he said as he pulled into the empty lot.
They got out of the car and couldn’t help but notice the building, a run-down diner on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
“Maybe the sign should say “Horror Movie” or something. Feel like we might be killed?”
“It’s entirely likely,” she said with a pretend-scared face. “Come on, the yard sale must be around back.”
They ignored the rusty screen door hanging from one hinge and passed the diner made of what looked like light blue, chipping paint. The windows were too dirty to see in clearly, but the lights appeared to be on inside and someone was standing at the counter, but not moving.
“This really is like a horror movie,” he said. She nodded as they turned the corner.
Behind the diner there were several little bungalows covering shelves that held countless objects. Thousands of old items were piled everywhere, yet appeared to be organized. One shelf in the far corner of the lot was piled with old glasses, jars and vases. Each bungalow seemed to be organized in some way, although neither of them could figure out the order.
Beyond the eternal yard sale were huge ditches, run-down vehicles, piles of chopped
wood accompanied by a colorful beach umbrella and old farming equipment.
“I keep waiting for a creepy, dirty man in overalls and no shirt to come out with some kind of ax he’s just slaughtered today’s special with,” he said.
“I know, right? But I have to photograph this.”
“Obviously.”
As she walked around snapping shot after shot he searched through the piles of stuff. Old wanted posters. Roller skates. Broken typewriters. Vintage statues and figures of every animal that ever existed. He found an owl and held it up for her.
“Hey, check it out! An owl!”
Her head poked out from the next bungalow over, her camera strap around her neck. “Say cheese!” she said as she held it up and snapped a shot. She looked at the screen. “Too dark. Sorry,” she said as she deleted it.
He continued to root through the randomness of the collection, sure he would find something here that he wanted. He always did. A random old toy. A cartoon character drinking glass. Postcards. Photos. Something that would inspire a story. He kept looking as she took shot after shot.
“Make sure you get one of the roller skates,” he yelled.
“Done and done!” her voice called from a hidden part of a bungalow.
He smiled. Their thought patters were always so similar.
He went to the far corner of the lot and surveyed the land around it, the broken down vehicles, the rusty old unrecognizable objects. He wanted to shoot a horror film here. Or write one, at least. Do something. His skin tingled with ideas.
She finally emerged. “Damn, already took two hundred photos. Now I’ll have to upload them tonight when we get there to make some space on this thing!”
This was going to be an inspiring trip.
Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged collectables, death, diner, fiction, flash fiction, flea market, friends, horror, humor, kitsch, life, love, photography, photos, relationships, road trip, romance, run down, scary, trash, trip, vacation, vintage, yard sale
“This hill is nice.”
“Told you,” he said, taking a sip of his iced tea.
“You were right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Mhmm.”
“I’d say it’s perfect, considering what we came here to do.”
“Yes. Secluded.”
“Naturey.”
“Romantic.”
“We don’t need it to be romantic for this.”
“We don’t need it to be- naturey, did you say?”
“Mhmm,” she said with a smile.
“Okay, then, should we do it?”
She smiled with a certain curtness that only she could muster.
He handed her purse over, and she began rummaging through it.
“I can’t find them.”
“I put them in there, I know I did.”
“You sure?”
“Would I ever, ever forget something like that?”
“You’re right…probably not.”
“Look harder. Hurry!”
She flipped it and dumped everything out, and they both rummaged through the contents.
“Here they are!” he said with a certain amount of triumph in his voice.
She took one and opened it, and he did the same.
“I love playing with bubbles,” she said with a smile and a wink.
Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged art, bubbles, fiction, flash fiction, funny, humor, life, love, nature, park, photography, photos, relationships, romance, woods
Posted in flash fiction, photos of strangers, Typography
Tagged 1940s, art, beauty, cabin, childhood, dare, deck, family, fiction, flash fiction, found art, found photograph, friends, humor, kitsch, lake, life, media, people, photo, photography, relationships, retro, summer, typewriter, typography, vacation, vintage