
References
- Sibley, Celestine. “The Elegant World of Neel Reid”. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution Magazine, October 14, 1973, pp. 23-24. ↩︎

River oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) are one of my favorite plants that grow throughout the Piedmont region, and it’s a sure sign of autumn’s arrival when their seed heads begin turning brown.
The seeds typically drop by late November, and rain disperses them throughout the winter months, ensuring that bright, new clumps will appear in early spring.

River oats prefer at least some shade and are often found in low, moist areas, but they’re tough little bastards that thrive practically anywhere—even in harsh urban conditions.
On my first visit to Philadelphia, I was happy to see them growing in abundance along the sidewalks. This is where I’m supposed to be, I remember thinking. Nature shows the way.








The moment is delicious.
That thought came to me this morning,
Delivered, as are all messages from beyond,
With a tiny prick of light.
And that is what we each of us is,
At our core—
A small speck of luminance.
No need to overthink it.
Still, we insist on identifying with our bodies—
The heavy costumes loaned to us
For this brief, silly play.
We weigh our wardrobes down with
Stupid little stories
And gibberish beliefs:
A childish trick to bury our light.
Yet we are all pinpoints linked to each other
On a grid we cannot see,
Much less fathom.
Those who transmit their light
Are few and precious—
And very often despised for it.
But only they receive the message of the moment.












This friendly fella’s name is Chas, and he’s been greeting drivers north of Norcross, Georgia for over 50 years.
Chas is made of welded iron and was designed by Dan Jackson, who was commissioned to create the sculpture circa 1972 by the owner of R&R Auto Parts,2 later succeeded by GO Pull-It.
Chas was apparently named for Charles Newport, an employee of R&R Auto Parts from 1969 to 1977, although the figure was reportedly modeled after Newport’s brother.3
Sounds like bullshit, but it makes for a cute yarn.
When the nearby Buford Highway was widened to four lanes, Chas moved from the ground to the top of the sign,4 where I first met him in October 2024, following a rather muted repaint.
Chas’ face was originally white, his tongue was red, and his eyes were blue, but that’s too much color for these dreary times, I guess.



































They all take turns sticking their tongues in his crusty white Republican anus, their noses pressed into his sweaty taint as his sagging balls slap against their faces.
Pulling kinky gray hairs off their lips, they nod at each other with forced smiles and moan approvingly.
“Mmm, it’s so good,” they exclaim. “The power tastes so sweet.”
One of these days, their subservience and devotion will pay off, and the asshole will actually do something for them—any day now.















Life never turns out as you expect anyway.
Sometimes it’s better to show up without a plan.

Wander around a little and see what you find—
No angles or attachments. Just being.


















