writing
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Pinky’s Burger House (Part 2)
Part 1 Part 1.5 Pinky’s Burger House had this quaint-coffeeshop-ensconced-in-the-mountains ambiance. While I flipped burgers and served fries, I wondered if I’d made the right choice trusting Mr Pink (the owner). What was I going to get, working 9-4, wearing a greasy apron, a fading pink jacket with a picture of a walrus on the… Continue reading
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Dear Sandra
I’m writing to you from my prison cell. They convicted me yesterday of not earning GlobeTech enough money, and the private militia barged into my office and arrested me. They have sentenced me to death. As you know, I cannot plead my case because of my agreement with the corporation when I started working for… Continue reading
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The sequel
This is a sequel to a post I once wrote whose name and content I don’t remember. So, like everything in life, I build this sequel on nothing, a void that’s unfathomable and unimaginable. What are memories but distorted remembrances, deceiving us by giving us a hodgepodge of emotion, words uttered, and images, and telling… Continue reading
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On Art
The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls. – Pablo Picasso Dear writer, As I write this, the sun sets, bathing the city with purple melancholia. There’s an ashy wren-warbler sitting on a branch outside my window. Gentle nuances of grey and brown, cover most of his back, and… Continue reading
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The benefits of having a stalker
I remember the first comment. It said, “You’re a pity party, a predictable loser,” and I thought it was spam until more arrived. “Piece of shit!” “You think your writing is fantastic? Ha!” All from email addresses with my name, followed by something obscene. I had a stalker, and I didn’t understand why because I’m… Continue reading
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Men of perdition
The clip found its way to YouTube, and my friends in college showed it to others on their phones as if it were a video of a back-heel nutmeg by Ronaldinho. I was guilty too, simply because I shared in the excitement. Many years later, it haunted me. He knelt, reading out something they’d forced… Continue reading
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Humpty
Humpty sat in the refrigerator pondering and pondering, which is pretty much what eggs did. They were deep, existential thinkers, contemplating on good and evil, and the nature of man and man’s relationship to them. Humpty pondered on metaphysical things like the eternal yolk, the finitude of the shell and predestination. Why do some eggs… Continue reading
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Closure
I met another version of him after three years: a different avatar. I wanted to meet him after reading one of his recently published poems. The tone of the piece showed a shift from his earlier work. His initial writing was effervescent, or like David’s psalms, began on a note of melancholia and then drifted… Continue reading
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The writing process
I have these strange ideas in my mind which paint themselves on the canvas of my soul, I then imbue the picture with a sense of despair and project it as words on a page, I don’t know where my notions originate – maybe in an antechamber of a haunted house where there is cracked… Continue reading
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Acid rain and obsidian
If you’re a poet (in the traditional sense), you’ll look at the stars with a hint of melancholy and pen an ode to an imagined lover looking at them in a different city. You’ll write about how you share a mystical connection with her that transcends the boundaries of space, but sadly, not time. You’ll… Continue reading
About Me
Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.
Ordinary Person 