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    Vodka Orange Sunday
    Vodka Orange Sunday
    Vodka Orange Sunday
    Ebook51 pages40 minutes

    Vodka Orange Sunday

    By Tony Nesca

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    About this ebook

    About the Book

    Vodka Orange Sunday is a collection of stories, poems and articles written in Tony Nesca's unique free-flow style, full of that incredible, rhythmic prose that only he can do. Both lyrical and street-tough, often in the same breath, the words dance and sing and shock and cajole and insult. From a simple tale detailing a long summer walk written in a spontaneous, stream-of consciousness, to a wild night at a strip joint that attacks the senses with bawdy humor, to poems about love and sex and music and everything in-between, Vodka Orange Sunday is a celebration of being alive, a romantic, sexually charged discourse on life written in beautiful, long-flowing sentences that go on for pages, alive, unfettered and free

    About the Author

    Tony Nesca was born in Torino, Italy in 1965 and moved to Canada at the age of three. He was raised in Winnipeg but relocated back to Italy several times until finally settling in Winnipeg in 1980. He taught himself how to play guitar and formed an original rock band playing the local bars for several years. At the age of twenty-seven he traded his guitar for a Commodore 64 and started writing seriously. He has published six chapbooks of stories and poems (which he used to sell straight out of his knapsack at local dives and bookstores), six novels, four books of poetry, one short story collection, and has been an active contributor to the underground lit scene for fifteen years, being published in innumerable magazines both online and in print. He currently resides in Winnipeg.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherUkiyoto Publishing
    Release dateMay 15, 2019
    ISBN9780463700594
    Vodka Orange Sunday

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      Book preview

      Vodka Orange Sunday - Tony Nesca

      Vodka

      Orange

      Sunday

      TONY NESCA

      Ukiyoto Publishing

      [Scan the QR Code and let the Author see your View]

      All global publishing rights are held by

      Ukiyoto Publishing

      Published in 2019

      Content Copyright © Tony Nesca

      Reserved rights by Screamin’ Skull Press

      www.screaminskullpress.com

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

      The moral right of the author has been asserted.

      All characters in this title are purely fictional.

      This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

      For My Wife, Nicole

      TWITCH CITY

      On Broadway the lights shine grey

      winos beg for jack-shit-nothing

      and her and I trip through

      the violin sweet water music

      crazy bastard asks for change

      sure we say right on brother,

      in central park downtown Winnipeg trio

      of Natives sit on park bench passing the bottle

      laughing and happy we share our own cold-gin comfort under that

      relentless

      thirsty sun,

      underground mall deserted her breasts keep moaning to the heavy neon power chords

      river-walk hot and dizzy we

      pause and light up

      streetlight urchin ragged

      mud-river honey not so sweet

      the wink of her eye tells me everything

      old guy sits by riverbank smoking a joint

      other fellow with beer in hand pauses and thinks

      young morning lovers race down the boardwalk,

      in the Osborne Village people laugh dark and loud

      the Goth-Heads hit that desperate note

      mini-skirts short and ragged

      thigh-high leather screaming violent love

      hard rock misery blaring from dark places

      yeah in the Osborne Village the hippies cry deep into

      the morning come-ugly

      funky shops grinning late night heartache

      gloomy neon kisses you goodbye

      and always beside me she sings vodka/orange-sunday

      fire trucks scream in dark alleys

      Irish pub dances lightly and the

      sisters of mercy parade down the boulevard -

      she takes my hand shows me her tongue

      drug-happy we bash teeth in the coming moonlight…

      LONG COOL SHADOWS

      …and the sun beat down hazy real-time purple

      running through the neon distant cold-water-flats

      urban smile scraped into the sky

      me and her smiling and dancing on the edge of

      zig-zag misery

      long cool memory behind us

      rain just round the bend

      buck fifty in our jeans

      ain’t no one happier in the

      sun-go-down

      victory…

      THE DOGS

      as a kid in the

      70’s in

      Winnipeg’s little

      Italy,

      living right across from my school

      small house tiny patch of green for a yard,

      neighbors eating their Capicollo fried

      pepper sandwiches on back porch,

      blue prairie sky ever present working

      class Joes mowing

      their lawns and the forbidden

      sex-game behind closed doors us

      kids and mom watching my old man from

      front window as he

      came from teacher-parent meetings

      trying to judge from his walk

      whether news good or bad, whether

      sunshine big-poppa living cool and

      easy and the small unnoticed moment alive and

      well,

      I can still hear the lost out-of-tune

      harmonica blowing the blitzkrieg blues,

      I can still see my

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