A sigh. She puts down the pen and pushes out her chair. She holds out a hand to me, waiting. I’ve been anticipating seeing her all day, so of course I take the hand and she leads me down the hall to her bedroom. She stands in the doorway and she motions toward the floor. [...]
Archive for Category: "The Pen"
Titans
Simply put, I am enormous tonight. Anyone nearby would have to see it. Conspicuously huge. Understand I’m not speaking of mass, but of energy. There’s a very real sensation of touching the sides of the street as my bus careens along, scraping the awnings of shops closing for the day. The man walking his dog, [...]
Baby Steps
Winter is generally the time when I hunker down in some corner of the house to bang away at a project, because it’s too cold to go outside. This winter so far, I’ve done almost none of that, because I’ve been moving our stuff downstairs and trying to put things together in our house. That, [...]
Graveyard Bits
I did a bit of guest blogging for The Cultural Purveyor, and it’s posted today. Just a few stories involving dorkery, cemeteries, and the search for Resurrection Mary. It’s called Whistling Through the Graveyard. Here’s a taste: She called and said, “Wanna go to Hell?” “Sounds good. Bring snacks.” I said. The road to Hell had [...]
Baby Fish Mouth
“…is sweeping the nation,” yes. I know. Here’s the thing. I’ve always had a fondness for that movie. I can’t quote every line, but there are a few notables that I’ll throw out there in conversation because they’re like hand-holds of common language. Someone offers you a slice of pie and you say, “I [...]
The Pen
Whenever I’m laying on the couch, or in a bathtub, I hear Salinger’s narrative voice. Franny and Zooey is one of my ‘read every year’ books. If I were to pick anybody who always made me want to be a better writer, it’d be J.D. Salinger. When I was a boy it was Douglas Adams, [...]
