“I never liked flying,” she said, she says, “you have to accept that death is a possibility once you buckle up.”Grim, what is this place, anyways? Golds and reds dance all around as higher and higher we climb until the clouds lay beside us.
The Beast Pageant
(Here’s an old article I’m quite fond of about some old chums out doing what they’re doing.) Originally published July 17, 2010. Words spoken in a dream tend to fade as a day progresses, to be lost in the clutter of the subconscious, waiting to emerge in a moment of eccentricity. Sometimes, though, those words … Read More
On Memory and Cinnamon
Cinnamon was a favorite of mine. I suppose it still is, but it is more of a bitter-sweet addition now.10 years, has it been? I was paid to be a baker about a decade ago. Baking has been an interest of mine since I was allowed in the kitchen. And still is presently as kitchen … Read More