There is a box. Inside of the box is a rounded rectangle, sometimes chalkboard colored; most of the time it flashes bright lights. On the rounded-rectangle right now is drawn a grid of smaller squares; 5 down the side, 6 across the top and the bottom. And around these boxes dance bright outlines, projected from far away in Los Angeles, CA. One colored box is outlined and then another and then another, changing like a slot machine. This box is lit and now this box is lit. And the colored boxes are lit in no certain order (to those not paying close attention), so round and round they go. Inside each colored box a payment or a daemon. The outline appears to bounce around, at once lighting up a demon, and then a furniture set, then a thousand dollars, then a daemon. Bounce, bounce, bounce, emanating the blare of a casino that at once cascades and sometimes has the magical sound of coming together in some kind of harmony as if the resonance indicated the occupation of the room by some saint of luck. And the incantation for dispersing the daemons? “No whammy! Big bucks! No whammies!” How fleeting is the saint of randomness, for it cares little for prayers. It is quite the entity opposite of prayer.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Haruko Takanara, Joe Takanara

The population of Under the Bridge has grown by a dozen or so. Joe has long since drifted away from the bar to the intersections, thoroughfares and crisscrosses of steel and stone above him when “Hey, Joe!” occurs. He looks. Jodie is beside him.

She waits for him to wake up and says, “Harry says you’ve been considering something philosophically important,” she pauses and then puts her hands in the air and makes quote marks “about squares.” Jodie then presents her college eyes.

“I told Harry it wasn’t about squares; it’s about Victorian manners.”

“Yeah, I used to read satirical novels from the seventeenth—” she checks her herself—“or eight—whatever. They’re dead manners; that’s for sure.”

“Some of us are aware of ‘manners’ that are far older and would be far more useful these days. They never have to be dead.”

“Fine. I’m just mad that Carlin says you won’t be coming to my party this weekend.”

“Jodie…”

“Fine. I don’t care. But my friend does.”

“…”

“My friend who was with us when we saw you on York St.”

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Beatrice Hill, Jodie Copeland, Joe Takanara

He had not written that name on the side of his machine without a purpose in mind. He drifts into the green cursive on poked yellow metal as the raucous around him begins to get started. The red lights of the bar seems no different than that which cautions sailors at sea recognize. As he stares into the mirror on the other side of the bar at his mug, his wispy hair, his skin tugged down now, his face is framed by the badges of the pride of unions of men. Under the Bridge was a bar for the men who broke stone and built order. It was located most appropriately; beneath those who used the structure to fund more, hidden from them—not for shame—for they did not deserve to shoulder the bridge. Use it they could, but shoulder it, no. When men in suits walked into Under the Bridge, they were always too drunk to know better; sober men did not walk down the likes of York and Jay and Front. And those who did fall under the bridge would be received as such; one who fell; one who was to be pitied, not admired.

The bartender, Harry, wiping down the bar for no reason whatsoever (the bar’s very age and history mocked cleansing) comes near to Joe’s revery and nods. “Joe.”

“Harry.”

The bartender leans on the bar giving the ten or so patrons in the small front room a quick glance to insure that he is not busy, and then, “Why don’t they have you on #3?”

Joe is not quick to leave the red reflection of neon in the suds of his beer.

“I mean, everyone knows about you and… Beatrice?”

Joe shrugs.

“I guess the only reason I ask is that… well, you seem like somebody who would want to see that.”

Joe looks at Harry and shakes his head. “I go where they tell me to go. Every demo looks the same to me, Harry.”

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Beatrice, Jodie Copeland, Joe Takanara, Under the Bridge

October 9th, 1999

Dear Brooklyn Bridge,

John Roebling, Thomas Blake, Thomas Douglas, Francis Demel Drake, Michael Duddy, Patrick Collins, John Nakis, James McLaren, John Murphy, Johannes Heinrich, Walter Solley, Neil Mullen, William Reardon. These are only a few of the names that I have found of the men who died while building you. During the course of your construction, over 37 men were estimated to have died. In some cases, the records of your construction to not note even this. Some of these deaths have only been recorded into history through the memories of the families of those who died.

I suppose I just wonder if you know that. Somewhere in the space of your mortar and brickwork are their souls etched? Do they remain with you somehow? I think of all that you are, and how many millions and millions of feet have crossed you and left their mark. And if all these souls left their mark, then did not the men who built you and died while doing it and also all those who are dead of old age now. In so many ways you seem so permanently strong and trustworthy but the truth of your form is in the human hand.

You must know that. I am sure that the pride of your stance and the nobility of your shoulders that carry such a great weight comes from this knowledge and the knowledge that where they could not carry on, you will. As always, I am in awe of your power and do not question where it comes from. I only ask what it cost. Was it worth it? The actuaries will say it was. But I look to you, Mighty Bridge, and my own sense of wonder, to know that truth; not tables of numbers.

Thank you mighty bridge,

Joe

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Beatrice, Brooklyn Bridge, Joe Takanara, letters

Joe has the phone up under his chin as he points the remote; in his other hand a beer.

18: a snail uses its poison to disrupt the nerves of its prey and then swallows it whole.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Carlin Landingham, Joe Takanara

Day -194, March 1, 6:30:00am The subway car is rattling along. It is lurching and throwing itself in every direction. Joe is standing inside of it, bouncing around in its long steel bowel. Another man watching from the platform sees the express go by. He sees Joe go by. Inside the train, Joe is walking from one end of the a car to the other end. The waiting man on the platform sees Joe walk by at forty miles an hour. Briefly Joe is a vision between squares of light and rusted beams and then gone.

Day -187, March 8, 5:30:00am The subway car is rattling along. It is lurching and throwing itself in every direction. Joe is standing inside of it, bouncing around in its long steel bowel. A man standing next to Joe is falling in and out of sleep and occasionally nudges up against Joe. Joe lets him, assuming the man would be embarrassed if he said anything.

Day -176, March 19, 5:36:14am The subway car is rattling along. It is lurching and throwing itself in every direction. Joe is standing inside of it, bouncing around in its long steel bowel. There is a girl in a short skirt in the seat across from Joe’s. She’s reading the New York Post. He looks briefly at her knees until he becomes uncomfortable and then pretends to be looking at an advertisement near her head. Suddenly, the man seated next to her says, “Take a picture, weirdo, it’ll last longer.”

Joe looks shocked. She looks up from her paper at Joe and then to the man next to her. She folds her paper and hits him in the shoulder. “Shut up, Gary.”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ is all.” He gives Joe one more look, blank, and then leans in to her to look over her shoulder at her paper. “Why you care about those goons?”

“Shut up, Gary.”

Joe twiddles his thumbs, wishing he hadn’t forgotten a book or his CD player.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Joe Takanara, Subway

Joe’s mother is standing near him looking at a small scroll in a garden he cannot remember. It is a shrine. They are in Japan. Her face is still very young and he feels pulled toward her. She finishes with the scroll, an omikuji he has bought, and hands it to him, “Dai kichi, Josefu. Very good luck.” He sees her so happy and then gingerly takes the scroll to keep from her young and unwrinkled hand. He reaches out for her and they begin to walk out onto the Brooklyn Bridge. “Look, mama, a Torii!” He cannot see her frown—she never shows him disapproval—but he can feel it in her breezy voice. “No, Josefu. Not a Torii. Shrines only for spirits of natural things.” He senses a fury But the bridge is so magnificent and looming over them like an entrance, he is not sure she is correct. Joe thinks of all the hands that have touched it—all of the thousands of hands. He turns to look at his mother, to tell her how beautiful he thinks the bridge is, and as he does he is standing at the base of the eastern side of the Brooklyn Bridge. There is no one around except for a woman in the distance. She is dressed in a yellow dress and seems to shine against the overcast sky and darkened river.*

The street frames the bridge and yet is dwarfed by it. The buildings on either side seem to stand at attention, lined up, until they open to the water and reveal it. There is a strong gust from behind Joe and he stands and stares for a moment before turning to go.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Haruko Takanara, Joe Takanara

Day -145, April 19th, 6:49:00 am Joe stands back from the shower head as he lets the hot water get going. After a minute, he turns the water off and brushes his teeth, combs his haird back out of his face. The weather penetrates the frosted glass of a tiny window near the shower. I hope they turn the heat on soon.

Day -142, November 4th, 6:50:00 am Joe stands back from the water as he lets the hot water get going in the shower. As soon as it starts steaming he begins the delicate process of adjusting the cold water in millimeter turns to get that just-right-warm-water temperature. He steps into the water and his ankle slips. He catches himself on the shower door and catches his breath. For a moment an image forms in his imagination of falling and bashing his head on the tile. Lying in the water, the blood runs off his head and down the drain. Staring idly at the drain, Joe watches the water run down it in a clockwise spiral as a puzzled expression comes over his face.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Beatrice, Joe Takanara

Day -163, April 1, 5:40:44am

The telephone rings. Joe rolls over and picks up the phone:

Joe slams the phone down and goes back to sleep.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Carlin Landingham, DUMBO, Haruko Takanara, Jodie Copeland, Joe Takanara

Day -166, March 29, 6:36:34 am He grabs a black mug from the cabinet and pours himself a cup of coffee. He slurps it black and stares through the tiny window in his kitchen that looks out into the alleyway and across the next roof at the East River.

Day -162, April 2 , 6:35:44am He grabs a mug from the cabinet that reads “Cafe Ground” and pours himself a cup of coffee. He slurps it black and stares through the tiny window in his kitchen that looks down into the alleyway and across the next roof at the East River. Nothing is stirring and he watches the light of the sun begin to wash across the Brooklyn Bridge. Monday… Monday… He sips his coffee.

He is over the Brooklyn Bridge and can see the ripples in the water where the East River pulls against the towers of the bridge. Long lines in the evergreen water drag down the length of the river and as if time were suddenly sped up to an impossible pace the towers of the bridge wear down and down. Parts of the bridge begin to fire into the water and more and more of it deteriorates like a dream about losing your teeth. It crumbles into a gritty substance and washes away until the bridge is completely gone and there is nothing but the undisturbed flatness of the evergreen water of the East River.

He steps back from the window. The Bridge’s West tower and suspension cables are in view. Behind it he can see the awful monolith that is the AT&T tower, the Federal Courthouse, the massive ever-watchful twins, a mess of skyline, and behind that, a shocking blue sky. Nothing lasts. Nothing ever lasts. But some things should more than others.

Read the whole story so far: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Joe Takanara