Category Archives: Damian Pullen

“Suburbia is totally fucked up,” Maia announces, as she rips open a croissant. She slept out on the front lawn last night. Dad looks like he wishes he’d stayed in bed. Toni sneezes and blows her nose. The cat on … Continue reading →

Cycling home we saw a farmer standing by his sheep, with his shotgun on his shoulder. On the radio Paul Locke said respect the rule of law. It got really cold and they closed the school. We went down to … Continue reading →

He is smiling. It stinks of burned hair. He stares, grinning, while Krystelle tries not to cry.  Mrs. Harley moves him to the front. He whines when she takes his bunsen. He tells her he likes experiments. She’s new so maybe … Continue reading →

It’s gone. “What have they done with it?” “Looks better, don’t you think?” She smiles.  She is serious.  The whole front yard has been cleared out.  The grass is short and the bushes have been cut right back.  It looks bare. “He was never going … Continue reading →

Everything has gone: my clothes, phone, wallet, wristwatch, passport. I stare at my bare feet, soft and white.  They took my shoes, even my socks. Probably just kids. You crash out, dead drunk, and in the night they strip you.  … Continue reading →

Didn’t even know she had a son, says Mum. Dad goes upstairs and looks through the binoculars. Says he looks a bit of a hobo, and not surprising really, given the mother. He doesn’t do much, mostly just sits under … Continue reading →

The plane drops through the thin layer of smog and shudders on the rubber-scarred runway. After hours over the infinite dreamy blue Pacific, LAX is another world. Science fiction. Beside me, Tomasi grips the armrests and stares. He’s never left … Continue reading →

She sits up in bed, crying into her beautiful black hair.  What a drag.  This new software is causing all sorts of problems.  Arguments, assaults, even a suicide.  I’m supposed  to reinstall Version 3 until the glitches are fixed. “I think you should go … Continue reading →

Details by Damian Pullen I’m waiting, again. He arrives finally, breathless. “Sorry, babe, but it was so cool, that guy was out there, standing in this fucking… temple to materialism, in his robes, rapping about consciousness…with these shopping zombies everywhere… … Continue reading →