love
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TRAMP: Solipsism Mona found herself matching up her features with Aaron’s, wondering what their kids might look like. He wasn’t attractive according to the Greco-Roman standard of beauty, but she had observed that both women and men checked him out. He looked half his age, his eyes were large, almost doll like so much so
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TRAMP: Tavah’s Great Dilemma “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.” —Patty Smith Tavah’s great dilemma was that there was no great dilemma. Her life, as best she could tell, was untroubled, unchallenged, and without undue suffering. Her parents, likewise, were completely unremarkable. “Solid unshakable good German stock,” is how her mother referred to
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TRAMP: The Show Must Go On “Now I’m naked Nothing but an animal But can you fake it For just one more show?” ‘Bullet with Butterfly Wings’ -Smashing Pumpkins Brandon. Do you ever get nervous when you read your stuff? Aaron inquired over the noise of passing Elm street traffic. No. Why do you ask?
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chapter 10 TRAMP: God Spoke To Me Once II “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.” -Patti Smith God spoke to me once. Aaron fished around in his leather jacket’s inside pocket and pulled out a pack of Newport 100s while he talked. I thought you were an atheist? Brandon used his lemon-yellow Bic
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chapter 9 TRAMP: Writers’ Block Ten Years Running “It’s like a jungle sometimes It makes me wonder How I keep from going under.” -Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five Mona wasn’t a very prolific writer. Her output had been limited to a few very short, intense pieces since they began doing the poetry gig.
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TRAMP: No Woman, No Cry “my fear is my only courage” -The Mandela Effect “my feet is my only carriage” -Bob Marley Aaron casually strolled into the foyer and headed towards the sign-in sheet, letting the ALICE pack slide off his left shoulder onto the concrete floor as he greeted the doorman
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chapter 8 version III TRAMP: Nathanial III The Drunker You Get, the Blacker You Talk – 2001 –Karla “I wish I was special, but I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here. I don’t belong here.” -Damien Rice Nathanial Percival Robertson III ran the fingers of both hands over the
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TRAMP: B 4 We Were Poets circa: 1999 “I got a little black book with my poems in it.” -Pink Floyd Aaron leaned over his worktable, his shoulder-length hair tied back in a short dreadlocked topknot of a ponytail, revealing the shaved sides and back of his head, his round wire-framed glasses at the tip
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chapter 4 TRAMP: Arbeit Macht Frei “To be free one must give up a little part of oneself.” -Hedwig Some people are always surprised when the talking heads announce staring into the cycloptic laser eye of satellite-fed camera with a televangelist practiced solemnity, the never-before-seen news of yet another disgruntled postal worker arriving at work
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chapter 3 TRAMP: For Those About to Die, We Salute You “You start a conversation you can’t even finish. You’re talking a lot, but you’re not saying anything. When I got something to say, my lips are sealed. Say something once, why say it again.” —Talking Heads “Point, white!” shouted the black gi-clad referee, taking
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