Fat, Apathetic and Tepid

FICTION

Read Now

SOCIAL COMMENTARY

Read Now

HUMOR

Read Now

POETRY

Read Now

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Read Now

MUSIC

Read Now


MIKE HANSEN FICTION

Mourning Skye: Chapter 2 (part 2)

“No, you slut! I just asked if you remembered him.” “Of course I remember him. Everybody used to make fun of that poor guy.” Angeline said. “They probably still do, unfortunately. But he had this caretaker. Like a manny.” “That fucking Josh Hartnett looking guy who was fresh out of college?” Angeline interrupted. Sammy slowly nodded her head and stuck her tongue through her teeth as she smiled. Angeline hit her with her elbow again. “How the hell did you do that? And how the hell did I not know about it?” “I told you can’t tell anyone.” “Why the hell not? That dude is hot as hell!” “Because, bitch. I was only 16 at the time.” “Scandalous.” “Told you I wasn’t so innocent.” “Apparently not.” Angeline stumbled on her own feet and Sammy steadied her as they continued forward. “I need some details. All of them.” She put her hand up to her mouth motioning back and forth sticking her tongue into the side of her cheek. “Are you 16 now?” Sammy asked. Angeline shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t even know where to start.” “From the beginning of course.” “Well, in the summer after sophomore year my mom set me up to help tutor Mikey in math. I’ve always been a math whiz.” “You’re kind of rain manny.” “I’m an excellent driver. I drive slow on the driveway when my dad came to Walbrook.” Angeline laughed at Sammy’s bad impression. “So, there I was. Sitting in Mikey Magoo’s kitchen, with these giant tits when I was 16 and what do I see walk in the back door, shirtless?”...

Mourning Skye: Chapter 2 (part 1)

Angeline sloppily pulled a cigarette from her purse and nearly broke the cigarette as she put it to her lips. She took a few steps and then reached back into her large black, leather purse for her lighter. She continued walking forward as she foraged for the lighter. She brought the purse up closer to her face and looked in as she moved the items inside her purse. Angeline had all of Skye’s characteristics except that she dyed her hair a deep shade of blue. She was tall and slender and had freckles speckling her face. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue to match her hair. Her eyes weren’t listless, rather enthusiastic dampened by the drunkenness of draft beer. Her face was beautiful and her skin was soft with youth. She accentuated her eyes with liner and let the rest of her beauty shine naturally. She found the lighter and as she was bringing the yellow Bic lighter out of the purse her foot hit a curb and she stumbled forward and the lighter crashed to the sidewalk with three bounces and rested near Sammy’s feet. Sammy bent over and picked up the lighter and gave it to Angeline who was nervously laughing. Sammy was Angeline’s best friend since the fourth grade. Sammy was a few inches shorter than Angeline and weighed the same. Her weight was carried in her bra which would normally make her the object of many men’s affections, but she did not have a face that carried the same attraction. It wasn’t ugly by most standards, it was just something that, with Sammy’s...

Mourning Skye: Chapter 1 (part 2)

“Yeah, I guess.” “We already established that broads are pretty crazy right?” Miles asked. “Pretty established I think.” Adam replied while cocking his head waiting for the insight. “Doesn’t it make sense that at the end of your relationship you were more of just a buddy than anything?” he prodded. “Not sure I’m following 100 percent.” “Look, this girl has had some shitty shit happen to her in her life. Dead dad. On again, off again lesbo mom. Which is totally awesome, by-the-by. Another dead guy in her life.” Miles leaned his head forward and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m seriously getting lost now.” Adam retorted. “Alls that I’m saying is that maybe she just wasn’t feeling you at the time.” “She wasn’t feeling me?” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling you. Like, at that time period. Maybe you were getting too serious for her and she wanted to push you away. You guys weren’t dating that long.” “What are you a regular fucking Carl Rogers?” Adam quipped. Miles looked confused but continued on anyway. “No man. I don’t want to be your god damned neighbor. I’m just trying to say that it seems like that this broad didn’t want you too close so that is why she got cold towards you at the end. I don’t even know if she was thinking about ending it or anything then, but more of a protection thing.” Miles said. Adam leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair clearing the strands of dirty blond hair from his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and re-crossed them, putting his other leg on...

Mourning Skye: Chapter 1 (part 1)

The afternoon sky was crisp, but had little bite. A plume of smoke escaped Adam’s mouth as he lit the end of his cigarette. He sat down, outside of the coffee shop, in faded jeans, a faded shirt and a faded state of mind. His radiant hazel eyes were squinting as the shadows of the trees danced on his brow. He tilted his head back and blew a cloud of smoke into the otherwise cloudless sky. Adam sat at the table of the coffee shop and held his cup of coffee in his right hand. He was, by every sense of the word, an attractive man. His green eyes had a feline quality to them. They didn’t glow in the dark, but they seemed to glow while you talked to him. They were definitely more green than yellow, which held the intrigue much longer. He was tall and thin. He was not overly tall. Slightly taller than average. He also wasn’t thinner than normal. He wasn’t built, but he was not skin and bones. His hair was a sandy blond. He had it described to him as dirty blond before. He wore it longer, and parted down the middle. His jaw was squared, but did not impose or jut out and his full lips were framed by two dimples. He took his coffee and put it over his bottom full lip and sipped slowly, careful not to burn his mouth or tongue. He took his coffee black. Like many things in his life it was minimalistic. He didn’t see the need to add cream or sugar to something that...

MIKE HANSEN HUMOR

No Results Found

The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.


MIKE HANSEN AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Artificial Affectations

  “I believe in the resistance as I believe there can be no light without shadow; or rather, no shadow unless there is also light.” Margaret Atwood – The Handmaid’s Tale My voice fell silent a bit ago. It’s not that there wasn’t anything to say, it just stayed quiet. Sometimes silence is soothing. It is the serenity in the sea of artificial affectations that have come to eradicate every essence of existentialism in America. See, when we fall silent, we give into the American pretense. We fall in love with the allusion that all is well over the amber waves of grain. I fell in love. I fell in love hard with the notion that by not raising my voice, but not straining my vocal chords, by not exercising my fingers on the keyboard, by not engaging in meaningful discourse, I was solving the problem. I apologize. I apologize to all humans. Not to Americans. Not to white men. Not to black men. Not to women. Not to Muslims. Not to Christians. Not to atheists. Not to scientists. Not to artists. Not to children. To everyone. To all humans. We lose sight of what really matters when we begin to dichotomize everything. For those of you out there, there is no black or white. There is only gray. Gray is what allows humans to advance as a civilization. When we begin to look at things as black and white, we face our inevitable destruction. We look forward to a future reminiscent of Margaret Atwood’s, The Handmaid’s Tale or Madeline L’Engle’s dark planet of Camazotz in A Wrinkle in Time. Where...

Dreams

“Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” – Langston Hughes Dreams The ebbs and the flows create an undertow in your soul, pulling you farther and further out. Your chest fills with thrills, your skin chills with pills. Soft slumber never interrupted, never corrupted by the assonance and resonance of antiquation. The ebbs and flows create a rhythm in your schism pulling you further and farther in. The blades of grass cry as the shiver in the morning sun. The morning sun makes you shiver as you rise from your...

Sometimes

“Aging gracefully is one thing, but trying to slow it down is another.” – Courteney Cox Sometimes Sometimes I look at my dog and she still looks like the puppy I got almost eight years ago. Sometimes I look at the mirror and I wonder what happened to the eight-year-old in the reflection. Sometimes I look at my daughter and she still looks like the baby that escaped the womb eight years ago. Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wander. Sometimes I want. Sometimes I wish. Becoming unstuck in time is a dream that all dreamers wish to dream while they are dreaming. Sometimes I sleep. I sleep harder than the sleepers in the stone pastures. And then I wonder. And then I wander. And then I look at the mirror to decide where I’m unstuck or if I’m stuck. My dreams are playing mean tricks on me. Sometimes I want to know if my dreams are the dreams of dreamers sleeping in the stone...

No Substance

“Average working people need more fresh starts. Big corporations, banks, and Donald Trump need fewer.” – Robert Reich   No Substance The brain fires and seizes as the stimulation saturates every inhibition that is inconsequential. Discussions become debilitating – rendering you a child. Solutions guaranteed to separate. No substance where substance is needed. Robbing the hood instead of embracing Robin Hood. Fully intoxicated, under the influence, out of control to connect to your peers. Treat the elite more elite. Treat the poor poorer. Don’t care about Offending the Noetics and every other American. Lie to and Denigrate everyone That can Reasonably call themselves a person. Unfairly Mocking the Physically unable In a way that Shames one of the greatest Societies is Horrifically Insensitive To any human being. We see through the bloodshot eyes, the dripping nose, the unquenchable thirst. We see through...