I don't just love Kevin Brockmeier's work because he spins stories so recognizable to Little Rock residents, sometimes it's like we're reading about our own lives. There is a delicate rhythm to his words, and I can't get enough of his writing. If you ever get a chance to hear him do a reading, which he does often at events like the Arkansas Literary Festival, go. You'll never forget his soft voice as it wraps around you and brings each line to life. A good introduction to his work is The Brief History of the Dead. More info here: http://www.randomhouse.com/kvpa/brockmeier/
This month, he has a piece in Arkansas Life magazine, published by my alma mater, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. "[July, Little Rock, 1983]" seems autobiographical, but I don't know for sure.
Here's a teaser:
"The air is so damp and sticky that everything you say seems to emerge in its own heavy syrup, like sap from a tree, each sentence falling splat against the pavement. As a rule, the weather in Little Rock has this effect on people until mid-September, when the first cool rains arrive and all the old conversations dissolve and wash away."
I just want to roll his metaphors over and over on my tongue and process them slowly in my mind.
The rest can be found here: http://www.arkansaslife.com/editions/digital/?page=44