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I had become my father. Another alcoholic destined down a dark road of desperation. Rife with self-loathing, destitution, and despondency. A dissolute barfly full of contradictory, yet melancholic thoughts. My everyday was my yesterday. Nothing ever changed. Maybe because I was not ready for it to change. So, once again,Continue Reading

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It was summer and the heater was on. Bob couldn’t turn it off. The 1947 Pontiac he was driving chugged along on flat open road. The car had been restored from brown, back to its original colors, teal and seafoam. Before the restoration, we had known these colors were theContinue Reading

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Sometimes you walk in darkness, sometimes you walk in light. You get betrayed in ways large and small, at the same time you get lifted up in ways large and small. Sometimes the hand that reaches out to you is something large to grab onto that holds you firmly inContinue Reading

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Hunkering down on a steel gray October day on a mural of B.B. King that Bobby Sutton painted at the end of Promontory Point. Having a smoke and looking all the way to where the water and the sky meet. The rap of strait pipes echoing off the worn-out brickContinue Reading

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1.in the pistachio-shell hours of some thousand grassy nights.innumerable like feet on street cornersand all their destinations. my mom’s new car belonged to someone’s old son,its duct-tape flapping as she speeds, the bumper banging along,happily and in disruption, mile after mile afterrrr 2.i walked from one city to the nextContinue Reading

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we build home out of half a whatever.a deck of cards smeared across the asphaltour hands slapping wildly like flying fish.a watery tongue spills over the rock ledgeand licks at the salt of our spilled trail mix. i’d write to the water but i’d be wrong.we don’t come for theContinue Reading

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I hadn’t been to a laundromat in a while. I knew where one was, though, about a mile from our house. It was right near Church Street where it crossed Niles Center Road, in a grim-looking strip mall alongside a Thai restaurant, a nail salon, and a medical supply store.Continue Reading

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Jeremy Szuder is a born and bred California native, raised with a tender and dedicated loyalty to the arts. His works have been published in Fine Print Literary and Visual Arts Publication, After Happy Hour Review, All The Sins, Home Sick Zine, several issues of L.A. Record Magazine as wellContinue Reading

On:

Jeremy Szuder is a born and bred California native, raised with a tender and dedicated loyalty to the arts. His works have been published in Fine Print Literary and Visual Arts Publication, After Happy Hour Review, All The Sins, Home Sick Zine, several issues of L.A. Record Magazine as wellContinue Reading

On:

The Portland Pessimist Society was founded in 1984 by Felicia Gay, Rose Brightwell, Gladys Hope, and Joy S. Young. The PPS credo is a four-point “Litany of Grievances”: (1) Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz is the worst person to have ever lived.(2) Be disheartened.(3) Sunshine on the shoulder may lead to skinContinue Reading