January 8, 2011
The place, with its gray sky and withered garlands, its bared spaces and scattered dead leaves, was like a theater after the performance – all strewn with crumpled paper.
Hank wrote brilliant short stories in the guise of fat dense novels. That there sentence what appears above you could find in ‘The Turn of the Screw’ if you hankered to have a look.
January 7, 2011
“It’s nice, dear … very nice … not neat, clean and simple … rather cluttered and sloppy … but really very nice.”
January 6, 2011
%$4#(j** was in fact the first proto-hominid female to walk on the moon. Among the first creatures from an alien world to populate the earth, %$4#(j**, %$ to her friends, led a short moon excursion before the eventual landing on our tasty little planet.
January 5, 2011
A proto-hominid female is believed to be:
a. the first to walk on the moon.
b. the first in line for tickets to a Ricky Nelson concert.
c. the first to swim from Italy to Switzerland
d. the first to prepare a baked apple with the right amount of brown sugar.
e. the first to go wild on a pair of skates
f. the last one standing after the first general binge
January 4, 2011
not here
and certainly not here
so don’t bother suiting up
January 3, 2011
i want to wear my socks today
filled with lumber, coal, and hay
but if this wish i can’t fulfill
i’ll wear my socks, one on each ear
January 2, 2011
The loon awoke one morning, looked out his window, and saw a blue sky.
Taking advantage of the break between storms, he rushed to the top of Harrah’s and took a picture of the aptly named Round Hill.
From the same vantage point, he then took a picture of a horse and sleigh. (Hint for those who experience difficulty in finding Waldo – Look in the exact center of the picture.)
Returning to base, he was faced with the extreme shame of becoming a streetwalker. The sidewalk is on the left under all that snow.
The following day, this is what the loon saw when he looked out the window of his turret.
January 1, 2011
Love is not a hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind.
‘Forsyte Saga’, anyone? Soames? Fleur? Susan Hampshire?
December 31, 2010
Rhonda and Dave, as always, greet the new year while sitting on the giant’s head.
December 30, 2010
The loon resolves to:
1. spend a few days of each month tied to a chimney.
2. bake and consume in one sitting a porpoise.
3. host an event having something to do with otters.
4. fill a bucket with spit.
5. hallucinate only on weekends.
6. deposit all of his money in a snow bank.
7. devote a few seconds to remembering the year 1832.
8. dance across the moat while wrapped in a blanket made of orange peels garnished with cloves.
9. solve the plankton problem.
