Graeme Millen

Graeme Millen was born of a flower child and giraffe with an English accent and raised in a home with loose morals and looser bowels. Masquerading most of his life as an orange skillfully poised on the tip of a toothpick, he has since cast away the shadows of his disheveled upbringing to revel in the joys of literary incoherence.

A Character Sketch . . . In which we meet Rick

I saw the Walkman first: a bright yellow with SONY across the front that connected to the waistband of its owner’s acid-washed jeans. The man behind the jeans went by the name of Rick. I knew this because the letters of his name were tattooed on the fingers of his left hand, which hung forlorn [...]

A Character Sketch . . . In which we meet Björn Hooderstund

Water was dripping from my chin like drool from the crooked snout of a cross-eyed retarded poodle as I waited for the number 3 bus on a rainy day in early spring. The cuffs of my pants had thoroughly absorbed the puddle I was standing in and the water was slowly creeping past my knees. My [...]

A drunken philosopher pontificates on “Time” after one pitcher and three bottles of beer, two amaretto sours, one shot of something minty, and half a pack of cigarettes

“Time” Looking to the future can be exciting and daunting. Looking to the past can give you nostalgia-laden warm fuzzies; but it can also be depressing. So then what is it to be in the present? Are we truly caught in a state of incessant reminiscing or optimistic premonition? If this is true, is there [...]