fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the tag “Cheer Peppers”


NaBloPoMo 2018 will be (for me) a combination of Instagram-friendly posts… of short poems and square photos… in anticipation of an entirely new direction for 2019. This month, I will also be giving details on my very soon forthcoming third book, Mourning Person, and any other really nifty information on what’s new with our publishing house, Silver Star Laboratory.

I’m glad you’re here. See you tomorrow.


The Night

I forgot what it was like. 

The Night 

The road. 

The hours. 

Everything is loud again. 

Nothing is beautiful, 

like I had convinced myself it was, 


I already miss the days, 

and have vowed this will end soon. 

Either for something else, 

or somewhere. 

I will say goodbye, 

and for the first time, 

mean it. 

© 2017 William S. Friday 

The Wish

nano poblano photo 2

“I wish you had…”

That’s how it starts.  When someone you thought believed in you opens a new window in the conversation with the same line all the others have used, when you finally came to realize you would always let them down.

“I wish you had…”

They try and catch themselves, before the next line of words fall out.  Before you hear what they, secretly until now, think of you.  But they can’t.  The words they, until now, had not let slip, must’ve been building up pressure inside them for a long time, because they look… surprised…? that you could hear what they had not said for so long.

“I wish you had…”

It doesn’t matter how they finish that sentence.  How the next words will be for your benefit.  What their motivation must be, because they only want what’s best for you.  Because when you hear those words you know, from experience, you’ve lost them.  Whatever they have, or do, or will, mean to you in the past, the present, or the future, changed.  It’s no longer how unique you believed you were to them, it’s how the same you are.  The same as all the rest whose expectations you never quite lived up to.  All the rest who, eventually, could not hold back the words that lived in their heart, saved up just for you, no longer able to hide the disappointment in who or what you aren’t.

“I wish you had…”

And as they fill in the blank, you check out.  Not out of the conversation, but out of their life.  Because you know how this story ends.  With the same wish that, every time before, when you wished it, didn’t come true.  When you, reflexively, think of them,

“I wish you hadn’t…”


© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

The First Cup

nano poblano photo 1

Bill stands in front of a large group of strangers.  They are sitting in a semi-circle on folding chairs.  Each one holds a Styrofoam cup of what looks like coffee.  Bill fidgets imperceptibly as he tries to make eye contact with a few of the strangers.  


Bill (to the group): Hi, I’m Bill!

Group (to Bill): Hi, Bill!

Bill: Hey, everybody.  I really suck at this… this introduction thing… so yeah, um, anyway… I’m really bad at it. 


Bill strokes his beard, trying to think of what to say.


Bill (continuing): So… I’m bad at this.  A friend tells me that I come off arrogant when it’s me and a roomful of strangers.  That I just need to introduce myself first and not wait for others to come to me.  So that’s what I do now… introduce myself first so I don’t look like an asshole.

Group Leader (to Bill): Don’t worry about a thing, Bill.  No one in the group will think you’re arrogant.

Bill (to the Group Leader): Are you sure?  Cause you’re the one who told me that.


The Group Leader looks angry, like a hungry dinosaur.


Group Leader (to Bill):  I’m sure, Bill.  Go on.

Bill: Okay then.  Like I said, I suck at this…

Random Group Member: Suck at what exactly, Bill?

Bill: I think we established that…


Bill squints to read the Random Group Member’s nametag.


Bill (continuing):…Steven.  I suck at introductions.  And large groups of strangers.  And interruptions.


Steven looks awkwardly at the Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands.


Bill (continuing): Also, I’m probably not going to remember any of your names.

Another Group Member: We’re wearing nametags.

Bill: Yeah, well I’m bad at that too.

Group Leader: Bill, maybe if we focused on why we’re all here.

Bill (thinking out loud): Nametags… Interruptions… Strangers…Assholes… Oh yeah, Nano Poblano.


The group cheers.


Bill: Lemme start over.  Hi, I’m Bill, and this is my third Nano Poblano.  I guess I’m here for the same reasons all the rest of you are.  To write and post… something… every day in November.  And to be accountable to the group.  And to get to know everyone better.  I hope no one is too offended if I stare at your nametags.  I really suck at remembering names.

Steven: You said that, Bill.

Bill (staring over his glasses at Steven): Yeah, um, Steven…

Group Leader (interrupting): Okay, great!  That’s about all the time we have for group today.  I know each of you has something exciting for us again tomorrow.  Bill, thank you for introducing yourself to the group this year.  I know how hard that can be for some people…

Steven (under his breath): Some assholes.

Group Leader: …some INTROVERTS to navigate in a group setting.  Alright then, same time tomorrow everyone!  Remember to toss your cups in the trash on your way out.

Steven: You mean the recycle?

Group Leader: No… STEVEN.

Bill (under his breath): No… STEVEN.

Group Leader (to Bill): Bill…?

Bill: Yes?

Group Leader: Don’t be an asshole.


 *  *  *  *  *  *


Every November, a group of strangers gathers in an often scary place known as the internet.  Where, every year, strangers become more than just bloggers or friends.  These strangers become family.  To you, this was my introduction.  My way of saying, “Hi, my name is Bill”.  Some of what you just read is true.  Except that I don’t know any bloggers named Steven.  The rest… pretty much.  And I’ll be around for the entire 30 days, coffee in hand, my nametag on, ready to say hi.

Welcome to Nano Poblano 2017.

November Is No More

today pic

November is no more.

The frenzy.  The confusion.  The push to the finish.

(and that’s just when you’re sleeping)

Every day a panic where there need be none, all because of a looming, self-imposed midnight deadline that causes content anxiety in the most honored of bloggers.  And gives all wannabe bloggers the only reason they need to disengage from all social media until after the New Year.

So before I go off into blogging witness protection for the next month, here’s a little recap of the November that was.

NaBloPoMo 2016.


Where most of my good ideas came from…



Where most of my bad ideas came from…



My most favorite post…

There Must Be Something More



Your most favorite post…





The reason I quit every year…



The reason I don’t…



Thank you to the Cheer Peppers, and thank you to their creator, Ra Avis…



And as much as it pains me to say this here and now…

I’ll see all of you here again, next year.


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

There Must Be Something More


There must be something more

than what is right in front of us. 

More than your next meal,

next crap,

next fuck. 

More than work,

more than the distractions of play. 


or unpaid overtime. 

Frozen dinners from Trader Joe’s,

or Wild Turkey on the rocks

to help you sleep at night. 


There must be something more

than what fights so hard for your attention. 

Bingeing on shows in a weekend

because you are too tired most nights

to watch just one episode at a time. 

And chasing,

always chasing whatever it is

you think will fill the hole,

complete the puzzle,

satisfy that unspoken need. 

But it isn’t really there,

because it doesn’t know your name. 


There must be something more

than what you’ve been told. 

More than what you haven’t been told,

or even dreamed with your

last moments of sleep before

you get up and do the same things

all over again,

until the day you can’t. 

Because you died sooner than

you were led to believe was possible. 


There must be something more

than what never satisfies,

always leaves you longing

or reminiscing,

or grieving.

And I would tell you what it is, 

but it doesn’t know my name either.


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

The Interview




“Why do you write?”


“So people will cry.  Because, see… I don’t cry.  About anything.  A tear.  Maybe.  The kind that gets caught in the corner of your eye, and never escapes.  I write so others can feel what I can’t.”


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday


*for the full text of “The Interview” click here to visit the wonderful blog from David Ellis, Too Full to Write.

Happy Birthday


Happy Birthday,


I thought of you,


I surprised myself,

because I even got the date right. 

I pictured you having a good time,


I pictured you

fucking some guy

I will never know the name of. 


I thought,

you deserve it.


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Post Office


Hank had his post office,

and I have my warehouse. 

Dismal places,

on graveyard shifts together,

a generation apart. 

We also both had San Pedro. 

We both got out. 

One of us dead,

the other dying. 

Because we all die a little,

every day. 

Some of us are just better at it

than others.


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Fuck the Future


A day for reflection,

about the past,


but more about the present. 

I am loved,

and I am hated. 

That doesn’t make me special,

just human. 

All that matters to me now is,

who is doing the loving,

and who is doing the hating. 

And fuck the future,

until tomorrow.


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

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