I Reckon, It Was My Reckoning

PLEASE NOTE: BnB has 190 posts. I doubt you're going to rummage around in the basement of my blog, so I've decided to bring a handful of posts forward and mention why these are some of my favorites. Like: My Penned Invention of the Pen Invention (because I had fun writing it); or, The Start starring Wile … Continue reading I Reckon, It Was My Reckoning

My Penned Invention of the Pen Invention (repost)

  It would prove to be one of the most remarkable events to fall into the lap of England in   the 1930's. Even Sir Thomas Cartridge, the infamous historian, essayist, and reputed hawker of odious innuendo was aghast when he said, "Everyone familiar with this tragic and despicable crime certainly expected him to be found guilty. … Continue reading My Penned Invention of the Pen Invention (repost)

. . . later that night . . . (excerpt from “The Other: A Collection of Doubt”)

“So, what did you want to know?” Scott asks placing the bottle of wine on a coaster. Tom stands, adjusts the flame and walks to the sofa where he sits.  Scott sits cross-legged at the corner.  “Well, how you came to be here.  Not here, in my house per ce, but, I guess, how you … Continue reading . . . later that night . . . (excerpt from “The Other: A Collection of Doubt”)

What Flavor Is Your Mood Disorder?

"What're you having?" the rakish twenty-something asks.  Still staring into the fluted dish before me, spoon in hand yet inactive, I respond, "I'm not sure exactly.  I asked for a double-scoop of Desire and was handed this." The twenty-something turns so his torso, while dissected by the cafe table, is visible to me, "What's it … Continue reading What Flavor Is Your Mood Disorder?

Called Life This Morn: Took A Sick Day

It took me much longer than I'd expected to find their number.  Having never actually called before, it took me a while to figure out how to reach them.  Liz, one of my friends who decided to resign all together said that they found her.  "Oh yeah," Liz said, "as soon as I took the … Continue reading Called Life This Morn: Took A Sick Day

Loosing Elasticity

It seems that my mind is like a farmer's field: memories, like field stones continue to break ground.  And like the farmer, which stones I remove and which stones remain is largely one of effort: some stones rise wholly like a new moon; others merely crack the surface, their real mass remains solidly rooted; these … Continue reading Loosing Elasticity