Night Train for Sunday, November 15, 2009

By night_train - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Fiction

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Night Train 2

And now here we were at Grand Central Market, Jack and I. We were hungry and we were dead broke, but the coffee was good, the waitress was pretty, and it was a brand new day. “I didn’t care much for the movie,” Jack said. “ Night of the Living Dead? Naw, it was pretty cheesy.” Grand Central Market. What a place. Nothing like it anywhere in the world. Strangled sea creatures lolling on beds of crushed ice, goggling like embryos torn from the womb. Glistening loaves of bread, steaming kettles of... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by night_train at 5:25 PM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Night Train 1

Donald O’Donovan Night Train I was doing my laundry in the men’s room of the all-night movie and who do I run into but Jack. Little Jack, Jack with the red hat. Tony’s Jack. It was Friday or Saturday, last week. I’m wringing out my socks in the sink and in he walks. Jack was thrashed. His clothes were ragged and dirty and his red hat was full of stickers. He’d been sleeping out with the coyotes. And no Tony. I put my things in a plastic garbage bag and we went back out, sat down and shared a bag... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by night_train at 5:05 PM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

November 2009
SMTWTFS
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293012345
6789101112
Oct | Newest | Dec
About this Blog

NIGHT TRAIN by Donald O'Donovan - Homeless Novel, 90,000 words, unpublished *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***Jerzy Mulvaney starts out living under a bridge and winds up flying first class to Paris. Homeless in the streets of LA, he manages to elude the jaws of the city by doing some freelance plumbing, posing as a psychiatrist, making donuts, doing a stint as an undertaker, busting suds at Mike’s Diner, and finally by serving a hitch as Frankenstein in a carnival joint called the Monster Mansion. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** "I’d rather live in the open and hunt rabbits with a stick than become a responsible citizen." *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** " "The street leaves its mark on you. No matter how you doll me up I still have the unmistakable look of a sparrow pecking at breadcrumbs in the gutter." *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Recent Entries

Headlines (What is this?)