Things to Read
“Entrepreneur” by Jake Christie, Medium
A new story on Medium about the power of advertising, or something.
He heard Whug coming before he saw Whug. While Ogg had spent years becoming accustomed to the rhythms of the forest, able to track an animal for miles or disappear from a predator’s path in an instant, perception was not Whug’s strong point. Ogg stared at a wall of dense foliage on the other side of the stream until Whug emerged, sporting a fresh mosaic of bright red scratches on his face and torso.
“Ogg!” he said. “There you are!”
“Here I am,” said Ogg. “And there you are, though I heard you coming all the way from Big Mountain With The White Top. Are you trying to get eaten?”
“Oh, you know me,” said Whug. He grinned, then leaned over and cupped some water in his hands. “Not trying as hard as I could be.” He took a sip of the water and wiped the rest on his cheeks and chest, wincing slightly.
Ogg took another quiet sip and sat back on his haunches. “Might as well sit,” he said. “The animals will all be hiding for a while now.” He shot Whug a look, which Whug either ignored or failed to pick up on completely.
“Good,” said Whug, “because I have something I want to discuss with you. A proposition, if you will.” He leaned over the stream. “There’s not anyone around, is there?”
“October”
“Closet” by Jake Christie, Medium
A story about doorways.
One day Joey opened her closet and found another universe inside, a void specked with white and blue stars, with spinning planets and shooting comets, stretched out where her shoes and skirts should have been. She closed the door.
She stood there with her hand on the knob. The door looked the same as any other day. The knob felt the same to her fingertips. She put her ear to the wood and couldn’t hear a sound.
Two Poems
“The Ritual” by Jake Christie, Medium
New story on Medium about OUTER SPACE!! (andfeelingsoflonelinessanddissolution)
“You stink,” he said, and started to walk away.
I stopped him with a hand on his chest, I think. It was somewhere in what I’d call the upper torso region. “Woah,” I said, “I do not stink. If I smell like anything, it’s your ship.”
“You smell like the Earth,” he said. “You haven’t been through the Cleansing.”
“The Cleansing,” I echoed. “Is that like a bath or something?”
He scratched something on the top of his head. “You’re really the one your planet sent to travel with us?”
“The Cool on the Hill” by Sara Anne Donnelly, Down East Magazine
Very interesting piece in Down East Magazine about my neighborhood, Munjoy Hill in Portland, Maine.
The Hill declined along with the city beginning in the 1960s, as urban sprawl paralyzed the downtown. Except for the Eastern Promenade, the Hill had never been a fashionable place to live, but now it was dismissed as downright seedy. Boarded-up houses and absent landlords were common, and drug-related crime made walking the streets at night dangerous.
In 1979, a group of Hill lawyers, including husband and wife Ned Chester and Barbara Vestal, formed the Munjoy Hill Neighborhood Organization to apply for city grants to improve the neighborhood. With the money raised, the early MHNO built two playgrounds, established a neighborhood Fourth of July festival, and created parent-teacher organizations at the schools. Soon a critical mass of artists had migrated east, attracted to the Hill’s sunlight and affordable rents. The Eastern Promenade Trail, completed in 1995, added to the improving vibe by establishing a safe walking path along some of the Hill’s most scenic assets. And in 2000, the St. Lawrence, a crumbling Queen-Anne–style former church, was converted into the St. Lawrence Arts Center, a theater and community hub for the creative, eclectic neighborhood that by this time Munjoy Hill had comfortably become.
Today, the neighborhood that has been known as a rough outpost for most of its life is now one of the safest and most popular spots in the city. According to Census data, the Hill’s population has increased by 5 percent from 2000 to 2011, dwarfing the city average of 1 percent. Among those residents are many more artists, self-employed professionals, and singles than the city average. People walk or bike to work more than is typical in the rest of the city. And crime has declined dramatically since the police established a community outreach center in 1995.
“Stuff” by Jake Christie
New piece up on Medium about, well, stuff.
You hold onto stuff from your exes, right? Serious exes, I mean. Girlfriends, boyfriends, relationships. But not serious stuff, necessarily. Not Valentine’s Day and Christmas and birthday presents. Those are the things you sort of have to keep. It’s in the social contract, I think.
I’m talking about the little things. I keep the little things. Movie stubs, silly notes, tchotchkes. Post-it doodles. Quarter toys in their gumball machine eggs. They mean something different — they aren’t attached to any holiday, or any obligation. They’re just, Hey, I was thinking about you.
“Last Call” by Jake Christie
A short story about technology (kinda) and relationships (mostly).
“It’s called ‘Countdown,’” says Brian. He looks away from his phone to smile at the bartender as she hands him another beer, then looks back at us. “It’s free.”
He turns the screen towards us and — I hate to say this — it actually looks cute. The cartoon clock, with little clock arms and clock legs, and one hand on his clock hip. “Countdown” is plastered in colorful letters at the top of the screen.
A Week of Poems: Friday, “Time Machine”
TIME MACHINE
I went back in time
to stop a girl from breaking up with me.
But when I saw us there,
hugging and teary-eyed,
with a look not unlike relief on our faces,
I realized I probably should have gone back to kill Hitler instead.
Jake Christie 