A Calendar Revisited

March 8March 1984

Eventually, the sky set in a systematic deadening of color, in blues and purples, and the sand cooled around my feet and I was alone. My friends went home long prior and losing the buzz of the sun made me, there with half-buried buckets and grit-scratched trucks, feel even more solitary. I liked the quiet at these times because it felt like the time of day when there should be quiet, when the world packed up and relaxed its shoulders. Intermediately, the stillness would be cut with growls of landing planes and then the quiet would once again come and at some point I would start a countdown from continue reading…

Voice Box, part II

Spire II 8This month’s theme was “My Favorite Things.” There were a couple reimaginings of the song and the usual great stories and music. Emily read an amazing piece which I’ll share soon, here. I read a five-sentence story in the open mike, five-sentence story portion of the night. This is it:

My Favorite Things

For one, blue, the blue that tints our blood, we say as kids, before it hits air. The blue of the edges of milk, sometimes, of the sun, sometimes, when I squint directly at it and continue reading…


Soldier 8I was in the library looking for a magazine on Biblical archeology when I passed an image on the shelf that stopped me. There was a cover of a military journal that showed a photograph of the moment before the execution of an Australian, Leonard Siffleet, in 1943 by Japanese officer Yasuno Chikao, who ordered a photo be taken of Siffleet’s murder. I took a picture of that image and haven’t forgotten it in the way you sometimes forget pictures, as if in the taking of them you allow substitution of your memory to keep them. You save them elsewhere and then can forget.

What this soldier thinks of, what others continue reading…