Mar 27, 2009 | Fiction |
“To the handsome and the privileged,” she declared, as though addressing the night itself, “who can scarcely imagine being otherwise, it appears that their elders choose old age, for reasons as mysterious as their choosing to be ill or ugly. Servants...
Feb 23, 2009 | Fiction |
I tell him I’m waiting for my dog who has found some interesting smells a little way back, to find me. (‘Reading his wee-mails,’ I think of saying parroting a woman with a wire-hair Parson Jack Russell, but don’t.)
Feb 8, 2009 | Fiction |
‘If we stand on the roof and stretch our arms, can we touch the sky?’ ‘Not if we stand on the roof here,’ he said. ‘But if you stand on a coconut tree you can touch the sky.’ ‘Have you done it?’ asked Leela. ‘Yes,...
Jan 6, 2009 | Fiction |
I examined my son’s drawings one after another. They were magnificent (and I’m not just saying that because he’s my son). The majority were executed in colored felt-tip, except one more complicated drawing that incorporated a number of substances I...
Jan 5, 2009 | Fiction |
“Guns shooting at loaves of bread.” “Coyotes stumbling down an empty freeway. Eyes are milky.” “There’s too much sun. The sun shines whenever and wherever it likes. Night is old fashioned.” “Where is the correct...
Jan 5, 2009 | Fiction |
Assorted fantasies: “I just think they’re creepy. A week ago he told me he’d had this vision where two ex-lovers passed each other on the street. They’d had an ugly breakup, and their punishment was that each time they saw each other they...
