tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91224581013979252012011-07-07T21:39:44.705-04:00Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01333381404010599979noreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9122458101397925201.post-81126344114382274682011-02-08T07:05:00.000-05:002011-02-08T07:05:25.225-05:00

I spent a good deal of time in my youth (read: the years leading up to these past few) writing. I've already written a long piece on my writerly history (here) so I won't recap it now. Suffice it to say, I've fallen out of practice in my (relative) old age. Job, career, family, general laziness, lack of motivation and/or discipline, whatever the reason. I used to write daily (in my early

Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01333381404010599979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9122458101397925201.post-75610509710695608172009-02-04T08:58:00.004-05:002011-02-13T14:10:09.877-05:00

Exactly three feet and eleven inches high, Maxine Rush fills the corridor of the Gracehall Military Academy much in the same way a tortoise fills the Pacific Ocean by pissing into it: Negligibly. Tiny shoes adorn tiny feet. Children's trousers flop heavily down upon her legs. The envelope of a used shirt wraps around her chest, leaving an opening large enough for two genuine Maxine Rush skulls

Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01333381404010599979noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9122458101397925201.post-7742696712286761802009-01-31T18:44:00.018-05:002011-02-12T17:28:49.668-05:00

As usual, her dog Ed is just lying by the fireplace as Edith calls him for their afternoon walk. His eyes follow her around the room, but he doesn't have the desire to lift his head as she snaps on the leash. She literally has to drag him out the door. Ed is getting old. His leash taunt, his spirits low, Ed's belly almost scraps the ground as Edith turns right out of her driveway and walks

Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01333381404010599979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9122458101397925201.post-90795766513696968982009-01-30T20:21:00.010-05:002011-02-09T20:46:30.795-05:00

What a world we have. How magnificent the planet. The blue depth of heaven. The wide grip of the horizon. The cool ocean, the gentle rain. Our Earth, teeming with life, care-free, on a path without obztacle, without danger, through the Milky Way. Happy are they who realize how pure and unimaginably wonderful life can be. Do you know? Do you value life? Or do you live unaware? Unawake?

Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01333381404010599979noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9122458101397925201.post-48600836945697381642009-01-29T17:45:00.002-05:002011-02-12T17:45:54.095-05:00

Jack did not normally work the late-night shift. His job at the near-by greasy fast-food joint catered him to the delicacies of grill-tending, floor-mopping, and ass-kissing (more often than not), but rare was the day that he was inclined to agree to after-hours work. Today, however, was one of them. Burger Boy was open until three o'clock in the morning. Most of the graveyard shift left then,

Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01333381404010599979noreply@blogger.com0