Cemetery Tales
Posted on March 31, 2005 | Filed Under Book of Emptiness
Old John Goode moved his tired feet along the worn, gravel road. They were covered in a pair of tattered and slipshod sneakers, the soles nearly worn through and the canvas spotted with matter of a questionable sort. He methodically put one foot in front of the other, humming an old, soft, tuneless song to himself and twirling his fingers around an imaginary coin that had long since vanished into the heart of America’s grand capital commerce machine.
“Jimmy cracked corn n’I don’t care, what?” He croaked out in a phlegm-coated voice. He came slowly to a stop; turning to look behind him back down the long dusty road. The starlight illuminated the evening brilliantly; and the frost in the air, as well as the old empty fields that rested on either side, glittered like the heavens above.
Old John Goode laughed softly and turned back to his slow shuffle, the humming once more stroking the air.
Overhead a night bird croaked once. Old John Goode paid it no mind. His thoughts were on other matters. Matters of the heart, by gum, and he was having none of the old sass Birdman Crow wanted to cackle out.
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Going Postal
Posted on September 14, 2004 | Filed Under Book of Emptiness
I’m not sure when I recognized that things had changed.
It could very well have been the first time I reached into a mailbox and knew that there was a letter from my Grammy in Michigan.
She lives in a town called Stillwater. It’s got like a gazillion lakes and during the summer it’s one of the best places to be because the swimming is awesome and the guys are almost all cute and it’s easy to make friends because everyone is friendly.
Grammy is funny, she collects lots of old dolls. She’s turned her whole basement into this colossal doll museum. Now, I know I’m a girl, but I never really got into dolls that much. Even when I was little. But being in Grammy’s basement, checking out all the dolls is amazing. You’d never dream that so many different types of dolls existed. She goes to these doll conventions all over the world and she brings home one or two dolls she finds there every time she goes. They keep adding up and adding up. But it really is a sight to behold. I mean, it’s not really a museum; she doesn’t just let anybody down. But I get to whenever I want. I go down and maneuver my way through all of the aisles and cabinets and spot one specific doll and Grammy tells me all about how she got it and then I make up my own story about who or what the doll is.
I like that about visiting Grammy.
But I think the change happened the day I realized there was a letter from her in our mailbox.
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The Book of Emptiness
Posted on September 3, 2004 | Filed Under Book of Emptiness
Becuase it so befuddled Mindcri..er…C.J. so much, I decided that I should create a separate section for my fiction. So, behold The Book of Emptiness is born. It’s going to be a little creative project that I’ll be adding to over the coming days. It’s a resurrection of something that has been bubbling in my brainpan for well over a decade and I thought it was finally high time that it saw the light of day.
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