Huckleberry Finn floated by St. Louis on his little wooden raft, and nothing bad, or good, or anything in particular happened to him there, besides him just floating by. I hope I just float by and nothing happens to me too, because anytime anything does happen to me it’s almost always the wrong thing.
It’s like growing old, you don’t realize it while it’s happening, but one day we all will wake up and look in the mirror and merely notice with sudden surprise- we are old. The surprise is unexpected, but the change is gradual.
Most people think Xavier is crazy. Misinformed arrogant people often think he’s “retarded.” More understanding people simply describe him as “different,” and they certainly wouldn’t be wrong, he is indeed very different.
When I was young, I used to write letters to fairies. I would spend all morning writing them down, and then my grandfather would show me how to fold them into tiny paper boats.
I feel like a potato in a potato sack. Covered in corse, rough, utterly disgusting, Burlap. Perhaps the ugliest material in the word- burlap. I wake up at eight, ride the Number 26 bus to work, get there by nine, and the rest is just an endless stream of burlap. Nine to five, nothing but … Continue reading Burlap Cubicles
Blain never had to go anywhere. Although he often went places, he never did so out of necessity. Long walks and late night bus rides had become increasingly necessary for Him to deal with his life. Blain wasn’t sure why he couldn’t sleep at night anymore without riding the Number 26 bus around for at … Continue reading Blain (Part 2)