Jose Padua Archives - Sensitive Skin Magazine

An End-of-the-World Cult of My Own

Jose Padua

One day I will have my own end-of-the-world cult. We will believe that the end of the world is coming tomorrow, and that we had better be prepared. If the end doesn’t come tomorrow, we will admit our mistake, and post...

Praise Song for Today

Jose Padua

Praise Song for Today I am writing in praise of sloth, in praise of doing nothing and by nothing I don’t mean watching television or sleeping, I mean doing nothing: no moving about the house with your arms hanging l...

Our Heavy Metal Life

Jose Padua

Sometimes I like to imagine that my family and I are a heavy metal band, playing gigs in the southern states, riding in a big tour bus that has skulls painted on the side, and a big decal of the grim reaper wielding hi...

Dong of the Dead

Jose Padua

The name of this poem is Dong of the Dead. It is my attempt to cash in quickly on the literary zombie craze by writing the first literary zombie porn novel in verse. I am writing it while sitting in the back of a pickup ...

Beer Mystic Burp #10: The Amble, The Ale

bart plantenga

The Amble, The Ale: Walking Nowhere Into the Pale “Freedom knows no propaganda more effective than people calmly enjoying themselves.” • Raoul Vaneigm, The Revolution of Everyday Life I was pointed to a youtu...

A Life of Uncontrollable Urges (or Tourette’s and the Writing Life)

Jose Padua

On a recent Sunday afternoon, as I pushed a cart in the aisle between the checkout counters and the racks of men’s shirts at Walmart, the song that went though my head was Brian Eno’s “Here Come the Warm Jets.” Eve...

Lean on Me

Jose Padua

Back then sausage, eggs, hash browns, and toast cost under three dollars for br...

For The Saints And Angels, Miles Davis, And You

Jose Padua

Miles Davis was a skinny motherfucker, a bitter and often mean man. I have always been a little on the stocky side and while o...

Crack

Jose Padua

I can’t tell whether the flowers are falling or floating in this painting just as I can’t tell wh...

Virginia

Jose Padua

Let happiness lie like a dog on your lap, Virginia, state of green, state of mountain roads, and tackler of new centuries, but don’t get upset if we leave you. Virginia, let your vagina set you free or get out ...