Category: Book of the Dead

the black that midnight would love to be

Lockdown Day 32: Thursday 23rd April, 2020 The parking lot was rammed, it was jamming. Petrolheads lounged around cradling coldies and checking out the industrial strength machinery slotted around the lot, flared pick-ups – Dodges and Fords mainly; rusty beaters – impossible to tell what they once were; V8 excess – Camarros, Challengers and Chargers, […]

long legs, tight tops and big… personalities

Lockdown Day 31: Wednesday 22nd April, 2020 I relaxed into my growing beer buzz and zoned into the mellow acid rock reverberating through the dusky room. There are times I just love chilling in a world of my own with a frosty bottle and fiery chaser listening to raunchy, driving heavy rock, not saying a […]

Tuesday wishes it was Sunday

Locdown Day 30: Tuesday 21st April, 2020 I rammed open the heavy oak door to peer into gloom. Jay was already in residence, camped on his stool at the bar in the far corner near the dartboard he believed to be his personal domain. Thirtyish, stout and heavy-muscled, curly dark hair a riot, leather bike […]

the wild side of gasoline alley

Lockdown Day 29: Monday 20th April, 2020 Mack’s Pheasant Plucker – best biker bar in northwest Chicagoland, if not the state. An oasis of beer and bikes and grinding rock’n’roll in a concrete wilderness of cross streets and commercial cack, sitting pretty off the Interstate at some bland, nameless twelve-lane crossroads, next to the best […]

clear skies, open roads and no borders

Lockdown Day 28: Sunday 19th April, 2020 Jesus, Trick. You kept that quiet. All these years and you never cracked a light.   Is that it then? The reason for all the wildness, madness, restlessness, the endless road? You feel guilty? Guilty?   You can’t carry guilt around with you for twenty-five years. It’s not […]

still she lights my way

Lockdown Day 27: Saturday 18th April, 2020    Angela died of a heroin overdose at the age of twenty, my beautiful, broken sweet angel. I was barely sixteen. I hate, yet pity, junkies to this day.   No-one in my family and none of my friends except Kit ever knew. Some suspected and some, I […]

count the headlights on the highway

Lockdown Day 26: Friday 17th April, 2020 We skipped up the stairs to her room, the house cool and empty, smelling faintly of wild roses and almonds and stiff summer breezes. Despite the warm welcome, she was distant, distracted, puffy-eyed as if she had been crying. She squeezed me close, a fresh soul-searing clinch so […]

hives of hustle and humanity

Lockdown Day 25: Thursday 16th April. 2020 August sun glinted deceptively off Bingham’s pond as I leapt on the back of the 11 bus as it trundled off, grasping the grab rail and hauling myself aboard as it picked up speed. As I climbed the stairs, flapping swans in the murky water behind me hissed […]

you could get arrested for that

Lockdown Day 24: Wednesday 15th April, 2020   I took her arm and we walked the other way towards Charing Cross. Slowly. Not once looking behind. Not wanting to draw any attention. Gradually picking up speed. Anticipating the dreaded arm on the shoulder, the ‘Come here son, you’re lifted.’ Trying to look natural, feeling as […]

the polis wir jist daein a hold ‘n’ scold

Lockdown Day 23: Tuesday 14th April, 2020 Some raucous rounds later, Thommo flew down the back stairs, halted by a HoneyMonster shaped buffer. “Time tae hit the road guys, raid coming up. Ah just got chinned in the lane at the back by three bacon delivery wagons. Ah’m in mid-pee an’ they told me tae […]