Dear Covid Diary:
Each night there’s a deer in our yard…okay, there’s 20 deer in our yard…but there’s one who is spastic. Are we allowed to say “spastic” anymore?
This one is though. It eats and then shakes it head and jumps around. It might be that Shahmen shot who stormed the Capitol.
I thought maybe it was just bugging out because of a fly or it had water in its ear from an afternoon at the Country Club pool.
But, Karie saw it this morning and it was doing the same.
Ol’ Spaz was here tonight again. Still going strong. Tourette’s? A tick? And by tick I don’t mean Deer Tick nor do I think it’s from Lyme, CT.
It did yell “Fuck! Cocksucker! Meatloaf! Ass!”
En-deer-ingly yours,
Brian
Brian Gerard (Lewandowski) writes books critics call "aggressively adequate"—better than "aggressively terrible" but somehow more concerning. He once traded a MetroCard for a pitchfork on a subway platform and now uses it exclusively for dramatic pointing. He lives on a farm outside Charlottesville, Virginia with three disappointed potted plants, a judgmental pig named Trouble McFussbucket, and a wife who smiles politely at his life choices.
See my Amazon author page.
His first manuscript was composed entirely of punctuation marks and confused sketches. He's since published "Not Bukowski" (poems that don't rhyme) and "Slop and Swell from a Festering Mind" (essays so concerning that bookstores check on his wellbeing). He once spent three hours photographing a rare bird that turned out to be a plastic bag, and he's the only person banned from church bake sales for "weaponized brownies." Inheriting absurdism from Vonnegut and Adams, sprawling narratives from Irving, and weaponized failure from Moore, he writes about conflicted everymen struggling through supernatural chaos. He remains unconvinced that birds aren't surveillance drones.
More biographic lies...err...info.
See my Amazon author page.
His first manuscript was composed entirely of punctuation marks and confused sketches. He's since published "Not Bukowski" (poems that don't rhyme) and "Slop and Swell from a Festering Mind" (essays so concerning that bookstores check on his wellbeing). He once spent three hours photographing a rare bird that turned out to be a plastic bag, and he's the only person banned from church bake sales for "weaponized brownies." Inheriting absurdism from Vonnegut and Adams, sprawling narratives from Irving, and weaponized failure from Moore, he writes about conflicted everymen struggling through supernatural chaos. He remains unconvinced that birds aren't surveillance drones.
More biographic lies...err...info.
Latest posts by Brian Gerard (Lewandowski) (see all)
- When God Closes a Door, He Needs to Go Get Some Paprika - March 5, 2026
- Monkey Testicles, Missing Documents, and the Eternal Quest to Stay on Top - March 3, 2026
- Under the Blood Worm Moon, Nobody Has to Learn Anything - March 3, 2026
