Not all those who wander are lost.
Tag Archives: Writing
It was a remarkable spring – the kind filled with sun-showers and lightening, frivolous thunder and serious rainbows. It was a spring both effeminate and mighty; it was war-like Athena, from Olympus descended, with an iron bow and a stylish … Continue reading
We beat the Auburndale Crabknuckles in straight innings. Dad came to watch with some of his buddies and they were, by far, the loudest – and drunkest – spectators there. In the third inning I pulled my helmet off and … Continue reading
I avoided Janice all the next day – ducking through unused corridors, staying out of the schoolyard and sneaking in through back entrances. I threw panicked glances around every corner and reconnoitered every hallway with long, slow looks. By lunchtime … Continue reading
My first Sunday as a Lemellen Lemming I started as a linesman. A linesman’s job is simple, revolving mainly around the crushing of various foes. A crushed foe is one who has hit the turf so hard that he no … Continue reading
When I woke, dad was bustling around the room. He had the windows open and the sun – like surge waters breaching a dam – flooded in. Layers of cardboard had been stripped from the ceiling lamp, and, for the … Continue reading
I spent some time in Psychiatric Observation Unit after that. A Psychiatric Observation Unit is a politically correct padded cell. The first night they strapped me into a gurney like a Soviet space monkey welded into his capsule. They trundled … Continue reading