6/19

By Vincent Fiorello

I had a gap year, I'll admit that to myself. I can write a book alone on coming close to my closing but when the summer of 2019 hit I was reborn, Illuminated on the way I wanted the next year to go, the projects to roll out, the life I wanted to push into. It was in June that I wrote a short story a day. One for each of the 30 days, stories about southern skies, long drives, talking to ghosts, and humidity that causes a madness that only a Floridian would know. Before we were sentenced to social distancing and Covid 19. These were the stories of a being lost and being found. One year after I wrote it, I promised myself I'd release it. Here we are. I'm proud to announce the preorder of my second book "6/19".  - Vincent Fiorello

 

"...As a lyricist, Vincent Fiorello completely redefined a genre of music. 6/19 is poised to shake up the literary world in that same way. It is a short story anthology the likes of which I've never read before. Part memoir, part philosophical brain blitz, part rumination on the realities of rock-n-roll, these wholly original stories had me tripping on the nature of existence one minute and brimming with youthful nostalgia the next. There's an unmistakable rhythm that ties each page together, a magical groove only the real deal motherfuckers of the world manage to tap into.
6/19 is full of old ghosts, yet brims with life. To read this book is to witness a true creative on the cusp of an exciting second act...." - Rob Rufus

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vincent Fiorello
• Release date: Jun 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393275077

Book preview

6/19

Vincent Fiorello

Published by Vincent Fiorello, 2020.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

6/19

First edition. June 24, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 Vincent Fiorello.

ISBN: 978-1393275077

Written by Vincent Fiorello.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

6/19

TRAVEL PARTNERS FOREVER.

To - Darcy, Lilli, and Marley.

6/1/19

Hello June.

I found a scrap of paper in my pocket, and while it definitely was my handwriting scrawled almost illegibly across the small torn sheet, I can't for the life of me remember when I wrote it. I have the habit of writing everything down, and in previous times, scraps of paper or corners of a notebook were the norm, but these days small notes are relegated to my phone, left to myself on every subject and every feeling.

Back to this note though, I don't remember writing it, and the fact it was folded in a small square and tucked deep into my pocket makes it slightly out of the normal. The note read:

That's where you'll find me, living between getting high and feeling low. That's where you'll find me; hiding - in the cracks, lost and never coming back.  On my own.  Am I leaving or lost in this southern town?

In a wild idea, I thought maybe this was a message from future me.  A grandiose way of telling myself that today it's ok to feel how I do and to accept my place between confusion and contentment instead of questioning it.

Ok. Ok. Ok. I know that's not the case, but a grown man can dream like a teenager, right?  Some people smash the compass, throw away the maps and head out into the great unknown, while other people plan and plot each step and every step after. Leaning on the facts and the maps to guide them smoothly through every bump and everything they touch in their life. I am neither of these people. I ask questions from ‘Why is this?’ to ‘What did that mean?’ and everything in between.  ‘Define by dissection’ has been my loose mantra, it's served me well most of the time, but as I get older, I get tired of always asking questions. Jealous of people who can blindly embrace the invisible so passionately and entirely that it swallows them whole, all the time happily hoping that the best is yet to come.

I always thought—Why the fuck are these people smiling? 

––––––––

6/2/19

Oh Land.

I've been picking up on this unique mix of oh and ah paired with slight shrug of someone's shoulders, and potentially but not always followed up by a side eye look. Undoubtedly, this mix of sound and movement really means FUCK YOU, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU ARE SAYING AT ALL.  I'm not quite sure if