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@surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
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a living document // prose film poetry photography essay // Los Angeles
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surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
Lovers’ Teachings No. 1
Vines creeping on a wall, blue flowers in bloom, bees buzzing about There are flowers that bloom once every twelve years. At our University museum, there was one such plant, expected to bloom, finally, two months in the future. There were advertisements all over campus announcing the event; they expected such a large turnout that they sold tickets for designated blocks of time the days the flower would be full. That was all—twelve years of dormancy, two days to display. After that, the flower begins to wilt. So he bought us tickets, and we anticipated the flower’s arrival. But that was folly; two months isn’t so long, really, in the grand scheme of twelve years. I never saw it. We didn’t speak the words, but the invitation was rescinded, and by then it was too late to buy a ticket myself. To the flower, it didn’t matter that my eyes did not perceive it. It bloomed, wilted, and receded on its own. It would have done so with or without me.
January 11, 2026 at 12:15 AM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
Bifurcation
Blue sky BIFURCATION A rupture: knife slices cloth, or worse. The seconds that separate conscious moments. Stolid, impassive window above my desk: peace broken by two birds, arced across the sky, visible to me behind a fluorescent glare for only a few seconds.
January 8, 2026 at 3:48 AM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
In Audience
Two chairs nestled on a sidewalk In Audience Two girls stood in audience of a man on the outdoor patio of a coffee shop in Los Feliz. He played guitar and sang, while a shallow fence separated him from them on the sidewalk. The guitar was decorated in a pine wreath. The man’s voice was hard and gruff, work-worn and in concert with a grizzled beard and the dirt-streaked skin of the unhoused. I had to excuse myself as passing the girls, so focused on the performance they didn’t realize they blocked the sidewalk.
January 6, 2026 at 3:39 AM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
descension
An outdoor staircase with neither beginning nor end Jan 3, 2026 In the hills of Beachwood Canyon, there are several staircases leading from the city below to the houses above. Descending a set on a rainy day, I found a hidden message written on the steps. “Not everyone can see These words are hidden for those with eyes You are unique” An auspicious start to the year, I thought, finding them. Then again, any passerby paying attention would notice. But who descends stairs in the rain?
January 3, 2026 at 8:49 PM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
Take the Bait

An adventure in 2025. A new short story.

www.surfnoircowboy.com/prose/take-t...
January 1, 2026 at 11:04 PM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
2025 in the Rearview: on Personal Freedoms

Features thoughts on some films I’ve watched and books I’ve read this year, and the connective tissue I’ve found between them.

www.surfnoircowboy.com/prose/2025-i...
December 29, 2025 at 2:50 AM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
in the rain
Intersection during the day, rain clouds hovering November 16, 2025. A delivery robot rolled across a crosswalk in the rain, its sensors detecting the cross traffic, vehicles waiting at the red light, pedestrians walking to and fro with and against it (umbrellas briefly shielding it), and, presumably, me, waiting to turn right. The robot must have been decalibrated by the rain, stopping and starting, moving forward one foot at a time. And through this process I waited, watching as it attempted to discern a safe passage—one that was never in jeopardy.
November 17, 2025 at 4:00 AM
surfnoircowboy.bsky.social
an introduction
sunlight shrouded in thick cloud cover behind an electrical pole, wires in every direction Nov 12, 2025 I drank too much. My stomach hurts. It’s 4am and my mind is racing, turning over everything that needs to be done at work. Thoughts crowd my brain and steal—my sleep—my time. I need to write then to purge them—for what—for whom—for sleep. In a sense: retching. The morning birds began chirping. I hope it comes soon.
November 13, 2025 at 4:02 AM