Month: August 2017


You are gone before you leave.

You roam through time like a fallen numeral.

You will be back. But you will not know who you are.


Short Sharp Strokes

Mother is chasing us around the house with a butcher knife when the phone rings. It’s Aunt Gwen, wondering how things are going.

So Help Me God … Maybe

I crashed into the world of God at the age of six, so close to the ocean that the sound of it entered my room at night when I said my prayers. But the ocean did nothing to save me from the daytime prowl of the nuns.


Random Sunday Personal Question(s)

Did you have a sweet grandmother? Me, too!

Did you have a crazy grandmother? So did I.

Day and night, those two.

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Photo Credit: Nathan Dumlao

And now, on to grandfathers. Mine: sweet? Not only no, but hell no.

According to family legend, one had his own children kidnapped because they went trick or treating on Halloween against his orders while he was off policing the town.

The other one was a little bit crazy.  But quite interesting, at least in theory. Possibly a Hollywood Henchman. More of a secret than a family legend, so I have my doubts.

Pity that you cannot strap DNA to a chair and demand answers. Or maybe that’s a good thing.

Little Black Dots of Progress

I’ve developed a secret code to fool my *editor. Will it work? Time will tell.

Here it is, at least a peek: a glorious mess.

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Little Black Dots

What sort of madness is this, you ask? I prefer that you guess. The 8.1 at the top left side of the page refers to the date. That’s your only clue.

* AKA: the infernal, internal editor, who, I have discovered, hates numbers. Score!!!!