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Tag Archives: Onomatopoeia

Just say “Cheese!”

September 9, 2014

    Just say “Cheese!”          John! John! Come quick! Look at your son! He is so adorable!         In …

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The Ghost & the Machine

September 5, 2014

Once upon a time there was a ghost, and he lived in your machine. BoOt… ! Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr— Bebooboopbeepboopbebeepboopbeepbeboopbeepbeep. Brrrrrip—klika-tic-tic—skreeeeech. Klic— …

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Charles

  • Charles's avatar Charles

“A man who tells secrets or stories must think of who is hearing or reading, for a story has as many versions as it has readers. Everyone takes what he wants or can from it and thus changes it to his measure. Some pick out parts and reject the rest, some strain the story through their mesh of prejudice, some paint it with their own delight. A story must have some points of contact with the reader to make him feel at home in it. Only then can he accept wonders.” ― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

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This blog contains short stories & journal entries of which I am reworking online. If any seem unfinished or incomplete, please check back. Thank you.

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  • Saisons: Epilogue
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  • Saisons: Chapter Three – Automne
  • Saisons; Chapter Two - Été
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  • Saisons: Prologue
  • The Old Man & The Sea Part 4: The Storm
  • The Old Man & The Sea, Part 3: The Rod & Reel
  • The Old Man & The Sea, Part 2: The Deep
  • The Diner: Dale

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Recent Posts: The Vale of Soul-Making

Jed Rasula

To be a reader is not to be unoriginal, not to be a primitive under instruction of the civilized author, not to be a castrated writer. To be a reader is to be the willing receptor of transformative agencies destined to either alter or confirm one’s position in a social circuitry. To take on this […]

Bhanu Kapil Rider

I do not resist my death. — Bhanu Kapil Rider, from “WHAT IS THE SHAPE OF YOUR BODY?” The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers (Kelsey Street Press October 12, 2001)

Hilda Morley

As the birds know, who fly the continents, the oceans, for their secret reasons, a map of the earth written inside their bodies, marked under their breastbones: a continuance of the now most fragile, always travelled patiently enduring world ― Hilda Morley, from “Sea-Map” Cloudless at First (Moyer Bell and its subsidiaries July 1, 2007)

Bhanu Kapil Rider

I miss your bones. — Bhanu Kapil Rider, from “TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT DISMEMBERMENT:,” The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers Strangers (Kelsey Street Press October 12, 2001)

Jed Rasula

My hope is that we’ll come to be less willing to confuse this [transformative comprehension] with writing, and understand writing again someday as a function of repetition, of which reading is the clearest sensual link we have with the invisibility of Desire. —Jed Rasula, “Statement on Reading in Writing,” L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E (October 1978)

Gordon Lightfoot

Does any one know where the love of God goesWhen the waves turn the minuted to hours ― Gordon Lightfoot, from “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” Songbook (Zweitausendeins

Carl Rakosi

The thing that sits self-conscious in the intellect and longs to be great is not the soul. The soul wants only a gentle planet. ― Carl Rakosi

Franz Wright

Rilke in one of his letters said Christ is a pointing, a finger pointing at something and we are like dogs who keep barking and lunging at the hand.  — Franz Wright, “The New Jerusalem,” Walking to Martha’s Vineyard. (Knopf, 2003)

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