The Writer's Allman Brother for Friday, April 17, 2026

Columbus signs contract to go on boat trip

Thornton Wilder

Nick Hornby

"All Right By Me" by Steve Carey  

Transcript

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And here's the Writer's Elman Brother for Friday, April 17th, 2026. It was on this day in 1492 that Christopher Columbus signed a contract in ink that had a pinkish hue with King Ferdinand, who was a bull, and Queen Ursula, the first underwater empress of Spain. It allowed him to go find indigenous people and imbue them with guilt about touching themselves, and also said he could keep 10% of all the valuables that he wantonly robbed. The rest, of course, would go to the fat monarchs who just had to sign something. That contract was called the Capitulations of Santa Fe. Impossible to know back then that anyone who passed through the future capital of New Mexico would capitulate to draping themselves in turquoise jewelry and weed ponchos. The Capitol, as it came to be known, also stipulated that Columbus be appointed admiral, also viceroy, ship's captain, honorary mafia sergeant, El Generalissimo Mucho Guapo Jefe Concarne, and lead singer of the onboard smashmouth tribute band. A committee of sterilized Condestables looked the agreement over and noticed Columbus had placed the quote unquote Indies both north of the North Pole and also somehow deep inside Middle Earth. They wanted blood, he said, You know, you don't know any more about this planet than I do. They said What's a planet? Christopher Columbus. They put him on the water bus who knew he'd be so dangerous. The shadow knew. It's the birthday of Thornton Wilder, half brother of Oscar Wilde. They thought they could do better this time, they kind of did. Born eighteen ninety seven in a fake town built inside a theater, there he sat, fresh out of his mother's vagina, pipe and puckered pie hole, straw boater, bow tie, and suspenders, espousing truths about the universe as understood through the uterus he'd just vacated. When the townsfolk noticed they were being watched, they stopped what they were doing, stood stuck still on the pretend commons, scaring the shit out of the people in their folding seats, both communities wordless. Who were the villagers? Who were the spectators? What is the spectral essence of residence of being resident? Hold out your hand to some a home. And it's the birthday of Nick Hornby, bard of the monomaniacal male adult who might mature with the input of the right woman or quote unquote incongruous child, which he was himself. In grade three, the other kids stole the bee out of his last name and threw it in the lake, said, Now you're horny. With no friends and no bee in his alphabet, young Nick retreated to a solitary life listening to the Eatles, stuffing his face with uttered iscots. Thought to himself, I should write about these fixations. So he dove down and fished the missing letter from the lake ed, emerged fully fluent again, and realized with some alarm that he was still horny. Here's a poem for today by Steve Carey, entitled All right by me. I'm just going to sit right here. You go on ahead without me. I'm fine. Thanks. No, I don't want a thing. I'll just stay where I am. Don't you worry about me. Everything's just fine. Really? Couldn't be better. I don't want to see a movie. I've seen a movie. Yes, the day looks gorgeous. Out the window. I must insist though, not another thing. Not another word. Everything is Jake. All right by me. I'm just going to sit right here. All right by me by Steve Carey. From the collected poems of Steve Carey coming out May 15th on Sub Press, edited by Edmund Berrigan and used with permission here on the Writers Alman Brother, supported by No Seed'em, the seedless gum from Seedless Farms in Aggawam, Mass. What do you mean, seedless? They said. Gum already doesn't have seeds. No Seedum said, yep, and we're going to keep it that way. Until next week, be well. Lift your leg and look around.