Stories for your uncle Harry.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Spelled with an 'f'
A planet spins on the edge of our solar system. It is remembered in folklore. As the planet X, slipping near the earth on its way passed the sun. Bringing death and destruction. It is the apocalypse. The end of days. Its real name is Jack
Frank Sinatra. Standing outside on his front lawn. Dressed in a suit. With a fedora. Looking up at the star lit sky. There’s a blond over in the corner of the lot. Sitting in a lounge chair. Drinking a daiquiri. And Frank saying what a nice evening it is. And the blond responds. What’s that supposed to mean.
A book about a philosopher. Spelled with an ‘f’ in the new world. His thoughts. On the planet jack. Which is the inside of his head.
Frank Sinatra. Standing outside on his front lawn. Dressed in a suit. With a fedora. Looking up at the star lit sky. There’s a blond over in the corner of the lot. Sitting in a lounge chair. Drinking a daiquiri. And Frank saying what a nice evening it is. And the blond responds. What’s that supposed to mean.
A book about a philosopher. Spelled with an ‘f’ in the new world. His thoughts. On the planet jack. Which is the inside of his head.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
The Mystery of Edwin Drood
Friday, February 3, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
War
We loved to fight. We were Catholics. And they were Protestants. Were Irish, Italian and Polish. We didn’t know what they were. Didn’t care. And then mere pitch battles between students became an all out war between the two schools. Catholic and Protestant. No one who witnessed those days could ever feel more joy in his heart.
Read War.
Read War.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
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