Under the Fan

Baby screams destroying the brain. . .sleepless nights tossing and turning. . .alarm sounds off. . .the grump emerges. . .slow motion action. . .the timecard punched. . .brain begins to function. . .it's just another day. And so goes this entire collection of poetry and prose, constantly poking at the daily struggles faced by everyman, digging into the meaning-or meaninglessness-of the quotidian life. Whether Greene is writing about infidelity (I dove in with both feet. . .whisky and sex. . .so fun. . .I never thought about stopping) or putting off the inevitable (It's not that I hate to do those things but I don't like to be told to do those things. . .so I find some way around those things. . .those wonderful, rotten you-know-whats), he gets to the meat of the issue, and then into the bone. . .and even further, into the marrow.