“Air Conditions” and “Wherever Below Her Might Actually Be” at Bull Magazine

In the midst of this wonderful pandemic vacation — which is definitely not very vacationy for any writer anywhere in the world, although not very different than the work days we all stumbled through back there in the good old days — it was a nice surprise this morning to find out that Bull Magazine had posted two my flash stories at their website. They are each worth the read. One is about Death and the other is about Love.

Two Stories by Dog Cavanaugh

They’re flash stories so you can rip through them in less than five minutes. Hopefully they are worthy of your time. I worked on them for over a year. Kind of weird to continually re-write a two or so page story endlessly.

Wanna put in a plug for Bull as well. One of the best things about the 21st century is that fiction about being male has finally got more depth and meaning. Most of us guys here and now are pathetically complicated emotionally and strive hard to be good fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, friends, and co-workers. The fun of stories about us is that we often fuck up in that striving. You can definitely read about all of that at Bull. I would like to close this quick note by stating emphatically that I’m not so sure it was the case that you could read about the actually complexities of being male back in the last century. From James Joyce to Raymond Carver, dudes were trying to open up, but for the most part they failed to truly get to the bottom of things. It’s not enough to write about sex and booze and love. What is it that Joyce says in Ulysses?

“Love loves to love love.”

Good golly, there’s got to be more to love than love … Read Bull for more.

Geometry of the Unknown: Animals with Nowhere to Go

A third storey window view of woods, a hidden railroad, a distant field, pieces of stream brimming with rainwater and life. In just the past few days, the skeletal dormancy of winter forest, sketched brown and black all season, slight olives maybe, smeared white mashed to gray, cold dark shadows growing and breaking and growing again — all glistens now in new light, soaked emerald and jade nippling everywhere, early green plugged in, glow-pulse and skimmering in watery mist and fog, slow-motion rain — a spring like few others in the knowable history of the modern world.

The sky is a lake joining everything. We are afraid or worried or wondering what’s next, influenced by everything that media has to offer. Continue reading “Geometry of the Unknown: Animals with Nowhere to Go”

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