Author Archives: Gabriel Thy

From the earliest episodes of my life, I was always sure to be found reading, writing, doodling, organizing, goofing, interrogating, readying, doubting, resisting, stalking and preparing the way for an artistic life not so much of grandiose deeds, but of exiled suppositions washing up against the keen but jagged shore of internal contradictions an authentic American life seems to require these days (and nights).

Since I had no natural or precocious talent for drawing, or singing, or painting, or writing for that matter, I thus fixated on the gushing fountain of ideas I discovered in leniency of books, sports, and philosophical stand-up, from I drew local inspiration and occasional comfort. A strong memory for useless and pointless knowledge mixed with a custodian's command of numbers, were my only apparent gifts, but gifts which I always imagined would take me far. Practicing these mediocre talents with a flair and flamboyance always filibustering any doubts, natural cynicism, and somber recoil of impedances I could parse for certainty has been my stock in trade, until the day when I no longer found joy in the real and sudden uselessness of it all.

In highschool creative writing class, I was always accused of and penalized for straying from the topic...

THERE WAS ALWAYS THE QUESTION of 1) purported priorities, 2) suspect qualifications and 3) undulating distortions of the gear grinding social machine that corrupted my urgency for creative expression. Nevertheless, this foul trinity of "doubts about delivery systems" stitching the social fabric from wooly to bully, served to compel my artistic inertia whenever and wherever this clinging to my guns of memory would take me.

Chapter 11. Sunlight, nature’s best disinfectant was clearing out the last few doppler shadows…

Sun­light, as nature’s best dis­in­fec­tant, was clear­ing out the last few doppler shad­ows bridg­ing the bel­li­cose scen­esters and hair­spray gob­lins already on the lurk for the lapsed chances offered to the quick and the dead first and then to the able and the eager still catch­ing up on some great escape plan as they race […]

Chapter 10. Elected to the Republican slate of delegates for Richard Nixon from the Great State of Tennessee…

Elect­ed to the Repub­li­can slate of del­e­gates for Richard Nixon from the Great State of Ten­nessee, I was in no way a king­mak­er. After all, Richard Nixon raked in 5,378,704 votes in the pri­ma­ry or 86.92% of the votes cast, and 47,168,710 votes or 60.7% of those votes cast in the Novem­ber gen­er­al, a pul­sat­ing land­slide vic­to­ry, mea­sur­ably […]

Chapter 9. Mediocrity, or powerhouse upstarts never appealed to this writer…

Medi­oc­rity, or pow­er­house upstarts nev­er appealed to this writer, my grow­ing pen­chant for actu­al­i­ty tables in every­thing that mat­tered, every­thing in its right­ful place, sport­ed vis­cer­al mus­cle all its own, but I was com­pelled to the awe­some place where rock sol­id dynas­ties swooned to the Icar­i­an mys­ter­ies a sud­den­ly mol­e­c­u­lar under­dog brought into the scheme, a seem­ing­ly spon­ta­neous­ly […]

Chapter 8. When my firstborn left home, trimming the mouths to feed

When my first­born left home, trim­ming the mouths I had to feed from eight to sev­en, I cut back from four cups of rice to two. We ate rice near­ly every night for years. Some­times with beans, some­times with a scram­bled meat dish. Lots of casseroles, too. Times were hard. Hel­lo. My name is Peg­gy. I have known many, […]

Chapter 7. With this letter to Philip Dare I knew February was turning…

The laws in this city are clear­ly racist. All laws are racist. The law of grav­i­ty is racist. I am mak­ing this trip to Africa because Wash­ing­ton is an inter­na­tion­al city, just like Tokyo, Nige­ria or Israel. As may­or, I am an inter­na­tion­al sym­bol. Can you deny that to Africa? Peo­ple have crit­i­cized me because my secu­ri­ty detail is larg­er than the president’s. But you must ask your­self: are there more peo­ple who want to kill me than who want to kill the pres­i­dent? I can assure you there are. First, it was not a strip bar, it was an erot­ic club. And sec­ond, what can I say? I’m a night owl.

Chapter 6. Three nights before John Lennon was shot dead in front…

Three nights before John Lennon was shot dead in front of the Dako­ta, and all the fret world mourned el bar­rio del cor­pus christi was rel­a­tive­ly qui­et to the most casu­al observ­er, of whom I was one, bel­ly up to a sat­is­fied mind after a quick hand­ful of tacos lengua and a wet bur­ri­to at Crack­ling Rosie’s had end­ed […]

Chapter 5. It was a story told by my mother to Paul that grabbed…

It was a sto­ry told by my moth­er to Paul over tea and cook­ies and I believe some inel­e­gant cheese that grabbed me by the Saskatchewans, pitch­ing me into a fever dossier and a full count I am prob­a­bly still suf­fer­ing con­sec­u­tive­ly this very day, near­ly sev­er­al thou­sand dawns of Cool­ing Earth lat­er. Why had she nev­er men­tioned this before. […]

Chapter 4. Our dear Mrs. Middleton the Strict sent us home with a regenerative task…

Our dear Mrs. Mid­dle­ton the Strict sent us home with a regen­er­a­tive task one fine spring after­noon, crisp with the trav­el­ing song of way­ward dan­de­lions and invin­ci­ble coun­try singers drunk on the booze left unde­liv­ered by the winds of tomorrow’s next sur­prise. Her thir­ty stu­dents were to ask each of our par­ents, and in those days, […]

Chapter 3. The Former Congressman Swore An Air Force Hospital…

The for­mer con­gress­man swore an Air Force hos­pi­tal had nev­er been locat­ed in Palm Beach Coun­ty. He was a home­town boy, an habit­u­al ser­vant of the coun­ty until com­ing to Wash­ing­ton, knew every syn­chro­nized inch of that excru­ci­at­ing­ly oppor­tunis­tic, glitz infest­ed, cap­ti­vat­ing, terse, par­alin­gusit­i­cal­ly vain but roy­al­ty free com­pound par­adise. But ever since the fer­al drug […]

Chapter 2. We’ll get to the official purposes of my morning…

We’ll get to the offi­cial pur­pos­es of my morn­ing rou­tine lat­er, but let me walk you through the basics. Are you record­ing this? Come on peo­ple. Let’s get our sto­ry straight. Will some­body please shuf­fle me a freak­ing elec­tron­ic device that will please on some non‐​​sadistic lev­el work some mag­ic fuck job on our Green­wich Vil­lage […]