by Kenneth Clay
We set off to Indianapolis and soon, we were cruising down the highway. We had three-hundred-dollars lining our pockets, and ready to spent on our hedonistic desires. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on more supply. All I wanted was another joint. It was as if I...
by Kenneth Clay
After we sobered up, we packed our things and headed in the van. I decided that we would drive until Bessie ran out of gas, and then try to get by. After all, sometimes life has a way of working itself out. The thing that was on our minds the most, was the fact that...
by Kenneth Clay
Thomas woke up approximately five days later, laying face-down on a stained, and rain-soaked mattress. He stretched his arms out and let out a long, exasperated, groan. Thomas slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the alley. It must’ve been near a...
by Kenneth Clay
We came to learn that the other man in our jail cell was named Johnny. He was in there for the attempted murder of a guy who was stealing his car. Ironic. Johnny knew that he was gonna get sent to prison, thus he made a deal with us: “They don’t prosecute for...
by Kenneth Clay
Travis and I continued walking down the highway, with the sun in our faces, and sweat dripping down our backs. I still hadn’t told Travis the plan, and I could see that it was getting to him. His muscles were tight, and I can bet that his heart was racing. I...
by Kenneth Clay
I woke up sometime later, with my face in the dirt. My head was wicked sore and tiny pieces of glass were lodged inside my skin. A tree branch had landed on the dirt just a little bit away from my nuts. If I had been thrown out the windshield just an inch further, I...
by Kenneth Clay
Each morning, I roll over and reach for the needle. There’s just barely enough in there to allow me to get my fix. I, using drug-addict precision, carefully slide the needle into my veins. There’s little masses of purplish scar-tissue...
by Kenneth Clay
Okay, Payte. You see what I’m doing here? Do you see? I’m lighting it. But I’m not just lighting it, that’s not how it works. You gotta kind of twirl it around, slowly. Like a cigar, but not really like a cigar. Imagine it’s some ladies...
by Kenneth Clay
Hey there! This is the first page of a manuscript I’m working on called The Fool & The Anti-Realist. It’s a semi-autobiographical surrealist novel about facing the absurdity of life. Think Albert Camus’s Myth of Sisyphus but for the misfits....
by Kenneth Clay
I think most reading this know of the mythos surrounding insanity and genius. We’ve all heard of the “tortured artist” Vincent Van Gogh. And I’m also sure that most of us have heard of Hunter S. Thompson, a man who would soak his brain in...
