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The story

Okay, so here’s the story. A man is travelling. He’s a merchant. Moves here. Sells there. Moves somewhere else. Has a family that he’s supporting. Wife and kids. Usual stuff. Takes on an arduous life for them. Migrating and not seeing them and getting money only to send it back, which lets him send more … Continue reading

Repetition intentional

Dear you, This is a random, admittedly alcohol-induced message. Last time I tried to contact you was no different, except for the uninspiring fact that I peed all over an Amsterdam breakfast. Some things are better dilute, I reckon. I also reckon that you may very well be doing very well (repetition intentional) and that … Continue reading

Alone

A blue sky Is beautiful Even with a Lonesome, Starved cloud Biting into it. * They found life on another planet, It might one day be said, And the first question That will need to be answered Is whether that life Is as lonely as us, Beings who are Searching for Someone else, Something else … Continue reading

Growing an apple orchard in Eden

In the beginning, there was a boy and a grandmother and they were sitting together in a nearly empty room. Wooden chairs gobbled up little of the free space. Dusty curtains vacuumed out the sun. The boy was wedged on a sofa. Patches of the cushion tickled his leg. Newspaper crinkled under his butt. Each time … Continue reading

Three words

Near the end of his life, Robert Frost reportedly said, “In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: it goes on.” I am not near the end of my life, as far as I know, nor am I a celebrated poet, but I have tried to sum all I know too. … Continue reading

Perfect stranger

Hi there. You do not know me, and I do not know you. I’m sorry for intruding on you like this, perfect stranger, but I’d just like you to look at this paper for a while. It isn’t much from afar – the blue pen scribbles look like bits of rain falling indiscriminately in sheets … Continue reading

A typist

I’m afraid that this is just typing and not writing and if it was writing it would not sound so much like typing because all I can hear are the clicking and clacking and thump-thump-thump. Is that a heartbeat? Or is it just my finger’s pulse? I cannot tell because I have to write this … Continue reading

What end

Hell is not hell It is purgatory With endless breathlessness Where you walk but do not move Where you speak but do not echo Where you are you but not A mist mistaken for rain A clock counting down to what end A question without an answer

The meaning of life, and other lessons

A writer who talks about writing doesn’t deserve to have written in the first place. Fittingly, I did that below. It is an example of how little I know about the craft, really. So does using really, really. It was for a class analyzing science as a mode of cultural transmission. I wrote science fiction … Continue reading

Some thoughts

This is the first form of real, purposeful action I’ve finagled in a while. I could’ve thought before I did it, I think. * It is only a thought, But if you think That it is too much To think About thinking Then you have not thought Enough About thinking Enough To think That thinking Enough … Continue reading

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