Archive for July, 2013

The Education of James of Nazareth

The Christ boys: Jesus and James. Jesus displaying enlightened gospel. James clutching his rolled up report card. The Christ boys: Jesus and James. Jesus displaying enlightened gospel. James hiding his rolled up report card.

James of Nazareth was the little known and far less celebrated brother of Jesus of Nazareth. As you might imagine, growing up in the shadow of the Christ child was not an easy thing to do. When your brother is the Son of God it’s hard to have a sibling rivalry. How do you compete?

James:           Mom here’s an ashtray I made at school.

Mom:              That’s very good James.

                        Vs.

Jesus:            Mom here’s an alternative universe of indescribable joy.

Mom:              Thank you Jesus!

 

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Deconstructing an Essay While Writing It

In the beginning there were biscuit cheeks... “I can’t wait to read this when I can read,” thinks biscuit-cheeked Megan.

The first sentence of an essay often comes at the beginning and is probably its most important. The next sentence comes second, which is the same way a thoughtful husband makes love to his wife. The 3rd sentence is usually truant and can be found gorging itself at an all-you-can-eat buffet. So by the fourth sentence you need a catnap. Now the fifth sentence is where I try to arouse your interests in my story by slowly revealing its contours, but this amounts to no more than a pastie on the nipple of life. So by the sixth sentence the whole affair has grown a little tedious and that’s why the first sentence is so damn important.

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Noiry, Noiry Night

"Nah. It don't bother me at all baby. In fact my doc say I ain't gettin' enough tar anyways." “Nah. Smoke don’t bother me none at all baby. In fact my doc says I ain’t gettin’ enough tar as it is.”

What in the devil was she doing here? I thought we were done. Through. Over. But of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she had to pick mine in Anytown, USA. Sure Anytown was a nondescript place of generic citizens and cookie cutter houses. A sleepy little hamlet filled with sleepy little people – so sleepy their pupils didn’t even bother to dilate. It was a warm and comforting town where a guy like me could go to forget things. Forget things ya see. And that’s the way it was till I saw her angel face from across a crowded room. And then time stood still. I’m tellin’ ya it wouldn’t move. And when her eyes met mine all the bad times were forgotten. Like a bad memory washed from the sidewalk of life. Yeah that’s it. A bad memory washed from the sidewalk of life. Read the rest of this entry »