Storytellers. . .

—From EF— As the years pass, the bones show clearer, the faces more distinct. This year I look at my family and see a tribe of storytellers. All four of us. We have done so many things all at once that I hadn’t seen it that way until now. Our daughter, who has...

Another Goddamn Novel. . .

—From CB— This is absurd, to say the least. Some background is required. There has probably not been a day in my life, since the age of fifteen, that I haven’t felt the urge to write. And I’ve done so: forty produced plays, hundreds of sketches, nine novels, three...

Balance. . .

—From EF— I’m hearing the call of the Equinox and wonder what I’ll do this year to let that amazing balance-point echo in my core. I feel it, but don’t yet know what it is. All my life I have been a night-person, but now I see each dawn, taste it,...

Turds. . .

—From CB— I had been uprooting weeds from the far reaches of our half-acre. Yesterday, after reporting to my wife my nasty encounter with brambles, which I did survive, I mentioned my discovery of turds. “Some creature is leaving its turds,” I said. “Maybe the coons...

Woolworm. . .

—From EF— Our two cats are brother littermates, but about the only thing they have in common is both have four feet and a tail. Garfy (Garfunkel) is a solid, nearly-portly shorthair with a great fondness for naps. Shadow is a speedy longhair with a magnificent tail...

The Sixties. . .

—From CB— A Facebook post brought forth comments about the achievements or absurdities of the Sixties. I wrote this in response (with a few edits and additions): True in part, everything that’s said, as is true for any blanket judgment on any span in history,...

Interchange. . .

—From EF— On the way home from the ocean, we got into an interchange that wasn’t so much a disagreement as an experiment in again having a conversation where we don’t subscribe to the same beliefs. Usually I go a certain distance into these and then roll...

—FROM CB— I write. It’s pointless, I know. I’d surely be serving a higher purpose by breeding goats or juggling live gerbils. But I get up in the morning and write. I guess if you start it in high school, you’re stuck. I remember writing a poem and feeling despair...

The Power of Charlie. . .

—From EF— Conrad and I have a routine of watching a movie at home every Friday and Saturday. We have a modestly-large Roku screen and a membership in Criterion, so the options are opulent. Sometimes I pick a film, but usually I’m lazy and leave it to him....

Birds Falling. . .

—From CB— For this week’s blog, I decided to post a story from my chapbook of flash fiction, FLASHES & FLOATERS: 14 FICTIONS. It’s only 649 words long. The chapbook is available at www.DamnedFool.com. BIRDS FALLING We had just come back from vacation, I, my wife...