Kevin PetrieWebsite: http://www.lacuadraonline.com
Kevin Petrie is a natural writer with an unnatural talent for confessional creative non-fiction. He hails from the Pacific Northwest, a land to which he has returned after years of knocking about South and Southeast Asia, as well as Central America. Much of his writing in La Cuadra has been about those experiences, and as he is also born to wander, we're constantly looking forward to what he's gotten himself into lately.
Stories by Kevin Petrie:
The barred doors and shuttered windows, the knotted groups of soldiers twitching their fingers against the triggers of their Kalishnakovs, the sand-bagged bunkers sheltering pairs or trios of camouflaged kids all huddled around a massive belt-fed machine gun, the complete lack of civilians: Perhaps, had we not been so utterly stoned, we would have noticed these… full story HERE »
Guatemala unfurls from the fractured landscape of my memory in a vast expanse of broken glass and Christmas lights, cobblestones, coke-covered mirrors and sex. The time is only divided into two sections: with a girlfriend, and without a girlfriend. Beyond that, any distinct chronology fades, obscured behind a miasma of drugs, laughter, music, sex, cigarette smoke… full story HERE »
If one bears in mind the amount of marijuana I had smoked, my actions might seem slightly less retarded. Or not. Remove the influence of mind-altering substances and we probably wouldn’t have been hitchhiking through a civil war zone in the first place. Nor would we have decided to illegally enter… full story HERE »
Diddle: To insert ones fingers into a soft moist place and twirl rhythmically. To many this definition of ‘diddle’ may suggest a sexual connotation, but to me it simply says ‘Grandma’. Wait. Let me clarify. I’m talking about noodles here. Wait. Let me clarify further. I only diddle with Grandma on Christmas Eve. That still… full story HERE »
It wouldn’t be fair to describe my upbringing as Pagan. Paganism implies that one worships something, be it the Sun God Ra, the trickster Pan, or Zeus, God of Thunder and Lightning. No, my formative years were largely devoid of religion. Specifically, my family aligned itself with a brand of Unitarianism that required no actual… full story HERE »
When the rain comes down in Bangkok the grit and filth of Kho San Road isn’t washed away but pushed around. You wade through it as slur-pee cups and used condoms swirl around your ankles. Rats make for the high ground of dumpsters. The T-shirt sellers, trinket hawkers, prostitutes and tourists are pushed off the… full story HERE »
Smoke hung in the bar and wafted around between the clustered, colored lights like an addictive fog. David watched. It was pleasing. Other than that things were turning out pretty shit.
He sat and pondered the call he had received an hour earlier. Rox. It had been almost four months since he had heard anything from… full story HERE »
The pigeon trembled as I removed it from my backpack. I held it firmly, feeling its heartbeat and panicked respiration pulse between my fingers. It kept its head tucked between the raised rims of its wings and I wondered for a moment how I was going to get to its neck. I carried it into… full story HERE »
Darren was taken in the night, just after the slaughter. Howie remained, though he had suffered a head wound. Those who committed the crime were almost certainly still in the area, but would be nearly impossible to find, for hiding was among their myriad talents. We had only one option: wait. They would be back.
Katie… full story HERE »