KZ Writes Good
The internet is a huge bathroom wall, and any halfwit with a keyboard and a connection has an opportunity to scrawl on it. Take me, for instance. My name is KZ. For a good time, come find me at Prosaic Shades of Gray.
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Inside Thoughts
December 7, 2010 // 22 Comments -
"Abbott & Costello" Ain't Got Nothing on "Dawn & KZ"
October 8, 2010 // 20 Comments -
Songs for Sale
March 8, 2003 // 17 Comments -
Winning Without Trying
November 3, 2010 // 16 Comments -
Casanova KZ
December 3, 2008 // 13 Comments
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At the Risk of Drawing Attention to Myself...
May 7, 2012 // 2 Comments -
The Answer (Conversation with God Continued)
April 20, 2012 // 2 Comments -
Weapons of Jazz Destruction
March 20, 2012 // 6 Comments -
Good Night, Gentle Dreamers
March 14, 2012 // 3 Comments -
The Conundrum of Human Empathy
March 12, 2012 // 3 Comments
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May 12, 2012
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Everything everybody does can be considered mundan ...
May 11, 2012 -
My avatar sure is creepy looking.
May 8, 2012 -
It seems ironic that you think this piece has neve ...
May 8, 2012 -
Since you insist. Killjoy. Grump. God, it f ...
May 7, 2012
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Hope Against the Inevitable
I was staring out of the window this morning when my train happened to pass an elementary school along the way towards San Francisco. It was recess time, and the playground was sprawling with playing children. In the center of all the activity, I noticed two boys in particular. The taller, huskier boy had a fist raised as if poised to strike, and was advancing slowly on the smaller boy, who backpedaled cautiously with his own arms raised in defensive attrition. They glided in their poses from one end of the playground to the other, engaged in a clumsy, involuntary dance. I wanted desperately to jump off the train and to intervene, but all I could do was gawk stupidly from my seat and hope against the inevitable. They were still dancing when the playground passed entirely from my sight.
What happened beyond that moment, I can only guess. I realize that I’m powerless to affect what actually took place on that playground today, but it still seems a cruel fate to me that the well-being of that smaller boy should depend on the whims of my cynical imagination.
Do you remember how the tall kid looked like? We can go fuck him up.