mr. luchesi starts from a shallow sleep.
the alarm clock says 3:34 am. that makes two-and-a-half hours sleep he’s managed since crawling into bed at 9:30, out of ideas, resenting his wife for making him put the kids to bed a third night in a row.
she sleeps soundly beside him. she must have arrived in bed sometime between 11:30 and 12:45, his longest successful streak of unconsciousness tonight. read more >
across the street. the luchesi’s.
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cheever street, late afternoon. a muffled roar pulses from a garage near the end of the block. from outside the clamor is hard to recognize, but the roar demands attention. more than one neighbor watches their clock for the agreed upon curfew of six pm to arrive, when they can call to complain. why they ever agreed to tolerate the racket is a mystery to each. he used to be such a nice boy.
step inside and the volume increases but remains indistinct without earplugs, but when you see the source, it is instantly recognizable as an up tempo punk rock song. read more >
this is the first straight love song i’ve written in a long while. i usually steer clear, but i just finished a wonderful book called “brooklyn” by the irish novelist colm toibin, and it apparently left me with a romantic longing that i needed to work out. monday songs to the rescue.
the song fills in a point of view that was not fleshed out in the book, the boyfriend who was left behind, stricken with worry that his love would never return. thus the song. read more >