I forgot what I meant to say …

Today I thought I’d write about … damn it, I just lost that thought I thought I had.  Have you ever wondered why … hey what about what’s going in Syria?  Assad is such a … don’t you just love Headline News?  Did you read about the girl who stabbed her mother 79 times?  Neither did I.  Why bother?  I have problems even counting to 79.  I get bored at 62 or 63 on sunny days.  Will it be sunny today, Al?  That murdering teenager sure has great focus.  I find that admirable.  Why are headlines so great?  To get to other side, of course!  Knock knock jokes are the next best thing.  Only two lines to remember.
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Rodent du jour

Light, not quite poetic recounting of yesterday’s periodontal adventure

Life as a Squirrel

Sciuridae (on Merriam-Webster.com)

 

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New Flash Fiction: Finding Voice

“A chink, a spic and a nigger walk into a bar,” my father started the joke.   The three neighborhood men grinned.

Even at my age, I knew that was no way to talk, but he was my father, strong and huge.   Mom could shut him down, no one else.  His way of talking, of hitting, was what made her run.  I never forgave her for leaving me alone with him, but I did understand why she ran.

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I apologize if the opening line offends.  I don’t use such language lightly.  After reading Finding Voice, I hope you’ll understand my choice.

Till the next post, chris

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Fatherly confessions

Well, it didn’t take long.  When I launched the site, I vowed to myself to post at least every three days – fiction when I was inspired, and whatever captured my fancy when I wasn’t or when working on a longer piece.   Today is the thirty day anniversary of my site’s launch.  Already, eleven suns have set since my last post.  I’ve broken my promise in record fashion.

I have a good excuse.  My son, Neil, who turns eight this fall, was in town for his annual summer trip to Cleveland.  I confess to a certain apprehension every time he visits.  You see, I’m a part-time parent.  Neil comes to town twice each year.  The rest of the time, he lives in Newport, Rhode Island.
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New Flash Fiction: Couponing

I often sit on the back porch to skim the headlines before going to work, but today I was taking the day off, giving me plenty of time to read the paper front to back.  I figured that ought to ease my anxiety.  After all, there’s nothing like other people’s misery to forget your own troubles.  I devoured the lead story about yet another politician caught sexting.  Wouldn’t they ever learn?

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Pete Rose

While running errands today, I tuned into 92.3 The Fan, as I often do.  Andy Baskin and Jeff Phelps were discussing an interview from a sister station, 93.7 The Fan out of Pittsburgh.  John Phillips interviewed Pete Rose for his thoughts on baseball’s newest scandal, the Biogenesis affair which resulted in twelve player suspensions, including Alex Rodriguez’s unprecedented 211 game suspension.
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New Flash Fiction: Jodhpurs

Dust cakes the woman’s jodhpurs.  The khaki pants hug her thighs tight like Charles hugged Lady Di before the divorce.  Once shiny boots, black and genuine leather, with thick heels and ankle straps latched onto silver rings come up to her knees.  A wrinkly white Oxford is mostly tucked in at the waist.  She has that winded look, tired as a worn down mountain with jagged crags smoothed into glass.

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New Flash Fiction: Sink or Swim

I’m trying my hand at flash fiction, complete stories told in a thousand words or less.  My first effort, Sink or Swim, clocked in at 520 words, including title and dedication postscript.

The ocean is calm.  Tiny waves pretend to crest like toddlers at the park wishing they could play with the big boys.  Me?  I am at peace too, an old man of the sea.   The sun shines bright, reflecting off the water to keep me warm as memory.  I want for nothing.

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