About

At Least They're Committed

Author: Tripping Raul

  • Foamy lattes

    “Walking” the other night was a disaster. All I saw was death, pestilence, overpopulation, relatives I’d hoped never to run into again, and men I respected drinking frou-frou coffees, bragging about who they were banging and admitting they believe I could be non-human. It was all so wrong. GDA says we weren’t…

  • Bon Jovi hair

    “Oh my GOD! What the FAWK!” And like that he’s here. Well, not God, but Gabriel and I haven’t seen him in a bit so he must be hurting for drama. “What?” his eyes are sparkling. “Three more people just signed up for this event! That makes SIX in the…

  • Oh, deer

    I appear to be right at home in Grand Junction. With these stress lesions boiling up all over my face, and my ratted hair in desperate need of a trim, I look like any of the meth-heads that flop here. The walls of my folks’ basement are covered with severed, stuffed animal heads.…

  • A day in the life of Tripping Raul

    I walk from the bus stop five blocks up the hill, pleased as punch each day by my lack of pain. Still I picture falling, twisting just the wrong way and landing in a growing pool of my own blood, the ball and shaft of my new hip protruding from…

  • Care-less

    The best Avenged Sevenfold concert yet. Who’d have thought it was possible? Red Rocks was a perfect venue for them. I’m still buzzing from the energy (no, not the secondhand smoke, that wore off by the time I got to the car). Who would have thought the Achilles’ injury is…

  • Peter Rabbit

    The past few weeks I have determined that The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter is nonfiction. In my precious moments of solitude I’ve taken to escaping to my front porch and reading the occasional legitimate literature. The first time my attention was drawn to this family dysfunction was a…

  • Death and the grocery store

    I’m having a Sixth Sense day or something. I forgot my phone at work — so very like me — and was patting myself on the back for surviving the night without it . . . or did I???? On the way back from retrieving my phone at my office, cruising west on 38th with the heavy metal…

  • Impetus

    Wringing her hands, chin down in a ghastly smile, eyes looking sinisterly skyward, Tripping Raul chuckles. He’s standing before her, all buff and proud and curly blonde and shit, and she doesn’t register his presence. “Ahem.” Scheming, she’s sowing seeds, some of which she hopes bear fruit in a year,…

  • You gotta have friends

    I know I’m being carried, Dez. By now you’re probably familiar with the rather old and overused ‘Footprints in the Sand‘ poem and I’m fully aware that the only reason I am moving at all is because I’m being held. Oh, wait, what’s that I see? One set of footprints…

  • An astute observation by Tripping Raul

    (With the help of Chick Habit by April March) Hang up the chick habit Hang it up, daddy, Or you’ll be alone in a quick . . .  I’m hauling loads of groceries into the house when this petite female sparrow lands on the sidewalk inches in front of me.…