http://slow.writerscafe.org/MAXreagan The original writings of author AlexTurnerHipThruster en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776189159 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I guess I have always wanted to be a poet.  I first realized, as a child, that my skin was held together by a material finer than silk, but just as fragile as paper. And that the hair that emerged from it wasn't mine, and in someway or another, it was just like weeds in the soil. And when I not.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MAXreagan/1500981/ One early morning, I'm looking at my favourite pictures of Alex Turner on my iPod. The blinds on my window, over my bed, are open and the bright morning sun is shining through, lighting up my room. I can see the reflection of the window coming off my tv, which is in the corner of my room. I can see .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MAXreagan/1426359/ I stood on the corner of the street with my dog. It was your standard rich suburban neighborhood street, with the big shaded trees, tall iron fencing, and street lamps with a candle burning in them.The street was called Maple. The freezing cold air whipped at my bare legs and made my dress blow up. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MAXreagan/1399217/ He convinced me to learn the guitar.I knew I needed to, to feel closer, more connected.I only had the acoustic.So i grabbed a penny off the night stand, it was old and rusty. The year on it was 1986.I used that penny as my noble pick.I strummed the first string of the guitar. It's harder than it loo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MAXreagan/1399203/ In LA, right outta Josh Homme's yard, Alex Turner and I kiss.His lips moist and taste of sweet margarita.His long arms wrapped around my body like two snakes.I felt his callused fingertips on my lower back as my cut-off t-shirt raised up. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/MAXreagan/1399188/