Monthly Archives: April 2012

Antoine Farot and Swede

It’s colder’n a well digger’s ass in the Klondike. Me and Swede hopped this freight car about an hour ago in Minneapolis. We think it’s going to Milwaukee. At least we hope it is.

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Down the Foggy Ruins of Time

For thirteen of the first fifteen years of my life I was confused about my cultural identity. I met George Nieto when I was two and a half years old, and I got it into my head that I was a Mexican, not the American-Franco/German that I, in fact, was.

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Life Could be a Dream, Sweetheart

“Rock ’n’ roll is here to stay!” What I always say. I said it back then, and it’s still true today, a quarter of a century down the road. Oh yeah, things have gotten kind of slow from time to time (early sixties twist, mid seventies disco), and sometimes they’ve even come to a stop—Elvis Presley three years ago and John Lennon just last night.

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One and Two Halves

Before Jack-in-the-Box came to town, Belmont Shore was a quaint little Southern California coastal village, or at least that’s how its inhabitants saw it. They still saw it that way even after Jack-in-the-Box.

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The Journeyman and the Apprentice

Carlos Rangel had been a barber since his late teens, and now twenty-four years later, he was still cutting hair. He had a two chair setup that fronted on Cypress Avenue in Cypress Park.

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The Muttering Retreats

Holdorff knew when he got to the Santa Cruz campus of the University of Califor­nia that time was running out. In the sixteen years since he’d been discharged from the Navy, he’d been enrolled at four colleges.

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The Death of Soc Smith

The low tide would be a minus zero point seven at five to six that Saturday morning in April, and if he was going surfing, Soc Smith wanted to be in the water by a quarter to six, so he was up at five o’clock.

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The Finale of Seem

“What a day!” I said to Betty as we went down the mountain on our way home. “I’ve got this one mother who just keeps trying to run my classroom, and she’s been doing it all year. She keeps making suggestions on what I should teach and how I should be teaching it. You know how I adapted Tikki Tikki Tembo to put on this Friday for my classroom play?”

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Oh, Hard Tuesday

Danielle Bourdain was sitting at my desk going over the report I had put together on her niece. She’d contacted me a few days earlier, recommended by Jayne Smith, a client whose missing husband I’d located in Baja California the previous April.

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Jerome at Surf City Barbershop

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The Death of Soc Smith on Kirkus Reviews

www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/jerome-arthur/the-death-of-soc-smith

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