A 151-Proof Liquidation Sale




May 20, 2000 / 2:00 am

Arthur began – ‘finally,’ he whispered to himself – the task of organizing all the tools he’d been collecting over the years. Discovered willy nilly, haphazardly as a wind blown leaf here, there and pretty much every and any where:

  • Markets d’ Flea {as he liked to refer to ‘flea markets’}
  • Garage sales
  • Estate &/ or business liquidations

May 20, 2000 / 10:00 am

Hanging on the pegboard: every bit of 11 different varieties of hammers. Each perfectly in line with its predecessor. Assuring such precision via one of the 16 members in his family of levels. But … no matter the configuration .. that space .. that 3” space at the end of the pegboard. That’s all Arthur could see …

Googling ‘Vintage / Antique Hammers for Sale in the Buffalo, NY area’ .. No matter the size. Just as long as it was old and rusty and worn, And then …

There it was: the tiniest of tiny hammers – sized just right to tap tap tap in a tack. And not much else. “Come here, my lovely’ Arthur fumbled and mumbled into the darkness as he poured himself another shot of another of his favorites: 151 rum.

Pulling up a separate screen. Scrolling through his files until finding the one he was looking for : ‘buythisnow,’ its heading. Copy. Paste. Save. ‘These are just a few of my favorite things,’ Arthur finds himself whistling. His latest find tucked away securely, he continues scrolling .. and drinking.

May 21, 2000 / 12:00 pm

Through his now squinting little wildly insane eyes … screaming at all the other illuminated lovelies dancing before his eyes. ‘I Love You .. come to papa …” The ‘p’ in ‘Papa’ shooting silver strands of viscous 151-laced spittle all over the computer screen now no more than 5 inches from his face … all over their wonderfully, innocently naked selves.

May 21, 2000 / 1:55 am

But Arthur barely noticed. In his headphones the chameleon master, David Bowie singing: I heard, telephones, opera house, favorite melodies. I saw boys, toys, electric irons and TV’s. My brain hurt like a warehouse. It had no room to spare.’

May 21, 2000 / 2:00 am

Then … singing / slurring along … “ Smiling and waving and looking so fine …mumble .. mumble.. Don’t think they knew they were in this song” .. as his neck gave way .. head lowered onto his chest .. that tiny bit of momentum pulling his body along .. as he fell crashing to the floor . Still mumbling the last of Bowie’s tune .. ‘I had to cram so many things to store – everything in there ….


My I Me Me Mine

Out and out outrageously over the top!” Alice blurted out. Gushing and blushing and feeling and bright and happy as if she had swallowed whole the Sun itself in all its glory.
‘Seriously?” This is for me? It’s mine? You mean …?” She managed to barely stutter. Then, trailing off yet even softer: “I’ve wanted one of these since I was 3-years-old. Before that, probably. Since I was an embryo. Since that one night that you & dad, after having talked things over … each of you getting a little toasted on peppermint Schnapps .. no .. no .. no … I”m going to leave it at that. Yeech.”
Which took her mother, Agnes completely off guard. To the point where she literally had to bite the inside of her cheek a tiny bit to stifle the laugh she felt brewing.
“Alice, my lovely lovely Alice,” she started, once the stinging pain subsided and the nascent laugh faded into the background. “I know you have. Of course I do. You’re part of me. My DNA right this second – and every other – coursing through your veins .. your heart … your soul, no less. Of course I’ve known.”
“But, Mom .. how? How did you …” Was all Alice could get out before Agnes started to answer …
“I told you, Love … you’re part of me … you ‘knowing’ something equals me ‘knowing’ the same thing. It’s as simple, yet sublime, as that.” Agnes said in the soft, subdued voice of a churchgoer in the middle of the sermon.
“My precious little miracle. There are but a handful of moments in one’s life where there simply is no answer nor explanation nor even understanding of the ‘How’ or ‘Why’ which birthed said moment. Some things simply ‘Are.’
Agnes reached over to her one and only. Cradled her Mona Lisa face in the palms of her hands. Eyes to eyes. So close the tips of their noses touched. Warm flesh to warm flesh. With her thumb and index finger on her right hand squeezing ever-so-slightly Alice’s left ear, holding her close …
“Yes. My Love. My Treasure. My very Heart and Soul. My I, Me, Me, Mine.
‘This … This Moment … In all it’s likes and loves and overall inherent exquisiteness Is Yours. All Yours.”
“Treasure it. As I do you.’ Agnes whispered as she ever-so-softly kissed her daughter’s forehead.
A solitary tear uniting both of their faces in eternity.


‘Roger: Out & Over’



By Peter Runfola

‘Out.’ Such a tiny almost seemingly insignificant word. How powerful could it possibly be, comprised as it is of simply two vowels and one consonant? Three little letters in total?

But its implications could be nothing less than enormous:

  • “OUT of bounds,” screams the referee
  • “OUT of his bloody mind,” the psychiatrist offers his brief, albeit unprofessional diagnosis
  • “OUTSIDER,” referring to the same kid who just never could quite fit in at school
  • “OUT & OUT Bat shit,” the above psychiatrist’s follow up when asked to be more ‘precise.’

Of course, though, like the great majority of any of the 30 billion or so {a rough estimate, admittedly – as I’ve yet to count them all} words in the English language, its usage may transmogrify into an anti-mirror image of itself depending on context and / or human perception. Such as:

  • “OUTSTANDING Job!,” so says the little league coach to his up & coming superstar
  • “OUT & OVER,” utters the nascent ham radio operator not quite up on said lingo of same
  • “OUTSMARTED,” the competition, says the spelling bee moderator about its winner
  • “OUT & IN,” offers our same ham radio operator regarding his wait time at a particular site

To which, the above-mentioned psychiatrist – who has been closely monitoring the conversations of said ham operator – is becoming increasingly & completely convinced that this boy is in need of some professional help. And, the sooner the better.

For, although the lad in question is quite capable of posting both poignant and pity little diatribes on facebook – whose ‘likes’ help spread his comments akin to an out of control California wildfire – our psychiatrist friend is becoming increasingly alarmed over the state of his young subject’s mindset.

For, he’s seen this precise pattern and amalgamation of utterances and moods on more than one occasion. And is beginning to fear the worst: that this child, this purveyor of technology and angst, anonymity & anti-social behavior may well be on his way to being written up not in his school’s yearbook … but on the front page of his city’s local newspaper.

The signs are there: the outsider nature the youngster conveys, accented with his slight dyslexia, which extrapolated upon, our psychiatrist friend fears could morph the youngster’s status from somewhat anonymous facebook poster – into the infamous face of horror displayed on the news hour of countless tv stations throughout the country … and beyond.

……….. THE END ………..

gnizeens osla nwonk sa

Sneezing …

Anyway, they say she comes on a pale horse,
But I’m sure I hear a train.
Oh boy! I don’t even feel no pain
I guess I must be driving myself insane.

{Genesis / Anyway}

A Whole Body in flux what the fucks up with that?

Sneezing … One of the purely oddest things which visits we human beings

An uncontrollable guffawful & strangely lovely orgasmicesque reaction to an external Pie-in-the-Sky twinkle twinkle little star through the woods and onto Grandmother’s house we go.

As irreverently & whimsically hither & yon unpredictable in both intensity & occurrence as would be wave of Tidals suddenly deciding to both reign in & rain down their collective havoc upon you & you & you .. yeah.

A nighttime – but not always – freight train unfeigned untamed off the tracks as it records its final moments before defenestration occurs & it launches itself onto the crowd below.

Its obligatory aaa-choo somehow getting lost in translation .. instead appearing as an auditory electric shock shock shock around the clock .. elementary – my dear penguin. Elementary. As the birds and the bees the flowers and the trees – & this thing called Love

‘I said .. LOVE? Lord Above .. now she’s trying to trick me in Love’

Sign sign everywhere a sign ..

Breaking up the scenery ..

Breaking my mind …

Do THIS .. Don’t do THAT ..

Can’t you read the sign?

And .. so goes .. the mind of Runfola as he sits here .. no longer sneezing .. but still a tad overwhelmed at all the projects he has at hand – in one phase or another of completion

I need to get up .. make myself another cuppa .. have a smoke or seven .. whilst I contemplate in & amongst this workshop of mine .. this little slice of fuck me Heaven ..

My Heaven Haven …

Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah-Zippa-Di-Eh …

My oh my .. my L!L …

I’m thinking someone must have snuck me a crazy pill …

In any event … Hi .. Hello .. Wake from thy Sleep … Love ya, L!L …

Until the Nows Come Home .. Part II

browncowIIIIIHi Hello .. My ineffably dear to my soul .. Mfm .. & .. Mfs :

I had to sit down .. clear my head .. & write out this little ditty {I’ll try .. I’ll really try to keep it as such ..} to both of you. Because …

Regarding my writing: Not THIS writing .. but MY writing .. as in my latest piece: “Until the Nows Come Home” …

I sent it along .. wrapped in a ribbon of pure Love .. to both of you. In part, no less, at your understated request. A request which, in actuality .. though I remain immensely thrilled by – either of you need not make .. for to You Two above & beyond any & all other persons inhabiting our fairest of fair planets .. it is You Two with whom I most look forward to sharing the various snippets, tidbits and random ruminations which visit me whilst I am enveloped in the heart of the writing process.

Because .. I know you are both Happy For Me that I’m tapping into .. to some extent anyway .. this God-Given Gift of writing of which I’ve been amply blessed. And .. I Thank You . .simply for my belief that I know that is indeed the case.

Which begs the question of which I have neither an inkling nor a flat out answer: You both ask for me to share with you the random snippets which pop out the end of the very same fingers which are now typing .. these .. words.

I did so. Certainly. And will continue doing so .. even if I somewhat question myself : ‘I wonder … Did I indeed send my latest & my greatest along to both of you as requested by both You & Yourselves?”

For .. although I quite believe that .. by now .. you both are astutely aware how I value & treasure your respective opinions .. I remain at a loss as to why you’ve neither yet to share same regarding my latest trip into the nether regions of my brain.

My thought .. as opposed to the thoughts which visit me while engaged in whatever story is at hand .. remains:

‘Why don’t they respond?’ Tell me they Loved it & how &/or why? Tell me that I gave it the good ol’ college try but .. neither of you could make heads nor tails out of it .. a scenario which, though somewhat anti-climatic, I would rather entertain than this one .. This One being .. The Universe appears somewhat out of alignment: You both requested .. whether in passing or not .. that I send my writings along to you .. A Thrilling Proposition …

Yet .. although I’ve inquired once, at the very least .. if you would kindly share your thoughts & feelings .. you’ve yet to delve into same .. and share with me : YFS / YFB those most consistent. Most poignant & profound … OR … simply matter-of-fact.

IE: I would Treasure ANYthing & EVERYthing EITHER of You would wish to care to share with me regarding this .. and future .. little snippets I discover in their innate, untouched beauty.

Written with only the purest, most loving of thoughts in mind.

Love, YFS / YFB …

Until the Nows come home



Honestly .. I really just don’t feel like doing that – or anything, truly – right at the moment. But … later? Yeah, sure – I’ll do it later.” So says This Moment. “Yeah, right – that’s my name – lovingly coined by my dear mother, Here & equally dear dad, Now.” “And, they’re both quite proud of their little brainstorm .. in name anyway. Now {oops, sorry, Dad} if only I could live up to the immediacy imbued into my very being … “

“Hey, little bro. Chill. This moment / That moment .. whichever. They’re all pretty much the same if you think about it. Just depends on exactly when you’re saying it. They’re rather interchangeable, amorphous, liquid ,, if you like.” So says big brother, Whenever. “It’s all a matter of Perspective – if I may interject our dear cousin into the conversation.”

“Ok. Whenever – whatever you say.” says This Moment. “But there’s just too much wiggle room in your approach. There are too many cracks and crevices for all kinds of variables to hide themselves in. Allowing excuses and built-in-rationalizations to walk on stage and take the play in a totally different direction. Make it this amorphous wishy-washy pie-in-the-sky thing to do Later, if I’m allowed to bring him into the conversation.”

“Hey – lay off ‘Later.’ He does the best he can. And besides … just because something – this thing isn’t happening NOW – who says that it’s not going to happen when ‘Later’ gets his hands on it?” He’s helped me out of countless little scheduling conflicts over the years,” offers Whenever. “You ought to give him a call. He’s a good man. And as good a cousin to have as either of us could hope for.”

“Hmm. Ok. I see your point. But, why are you bringing our dear cousin into the conversation? Because you miss him? Or as a convenient way to cover your back? Tell me true – because the truth will come out eventually. It always does.” offers up This Moment.

“Look, bro. You and I will never see things the same. My ‘now’ is your ‘later.’ My ‘this’ is your ‘that.’ Our relationship is nothing but a carny’s shell game gone awry. We can obfuscate until the Nows come home and about as far as we’ll get is to agree to disagree.” Regardless .. ‘Love Ya, Bro’ Talk with you again Later .. or Now as the case may be.” Said Whenever.