Fiction & Stuff
The Dark Night of the Soul.
Writing a book, at times, for me – I know it’s easy for the rest of you – The writing of a book feels like a constant fight against myself. All is lost and I’m facing that soul searching phase that will break us into Act 3 teaching me how to save the day. Continue reading “All is Lost”
Often overlooked and ignored: It’s amazing that there could even be a chance that the city would hide this rather than deal with the shortcomings of the very important public utilities.
More grist for my machine.
Besides my work life, I am beset with another work-life. In this new / different / ancient side of work-life I have many things to do and master.
Not the least of which is how to say something new and different. To say it like no one has said it before. These blogs…. I’m often stopped in my tracks. In my attempt to give more than mere shuffling steps on the trail, I am stopped short for much too much scrambling in the scree. I end up with gravel in my shoes. You end up with a weak metaphor about hiking.
Currently, the two main tasks on my proverbial trail map are: Continue reading “Scramble, Scree and Surprise – the work…”
My technologist tells me I gotta start using this site. She will shut it down. And she can do it. Ms. Baldesarri’s got the keys and the passwords. Use it or lose it, as they say.
Updates and hosting and plugins. Social media. It’s all set up and I don’t do shiite with it, she says.
So, enough of it. Let’s start using it.
I will not make anymore boring art.
Feeling overwhelmed with all the stuff? me too – read my poli-flash screed #FlashFiction #thesideshow #WeirdBaby @five2onemag
#FlashFiction #thesideshow A Weird Baby @five2onemag had the guts to run despite some #experimentation
“That girl got a guitar at her grandpa’s funeral,” Jimmy was sayin’.
I didn’t know much but it seemed a strange thing. To get a guitar at a funeral. For making music? And, at a funeral. I never touched one, let alone play it but they’s for people who got something to… I don’t know, just something I don’t get.
I tore a corner off the page I was reading.
Just the tip of the page crumpled. I placed it in my mouth absent mindedly while I read. I have read like this my entire life and the pages show it. I don’t have dog eared books. There are not many ears left to bend in the books I have reread, which are many.
“Well, I smell the cigarettes on you,” the doctor said.
“You do?” I said.
“I do,” the doctor said.
“What about it?” I said.
Well…. Will.
