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Weekly Contest #342
Hi friend. So we’re both on our way home from the daily rinse-repeat, know what I mean? I just feel like telling someone about all of this. I hope that’s OK. We’ve both got a little time to kill on the ride, “cooling our bottoms” on the transit, anyway. May as well make some small talk. It’s been a day. I mean, I have it really good and I don’t want to complain. Others are basically drafted into lives that aren’t nearly as great as mine, but I suppose our perspectives are still our own. I like to think that I can have a really strange and co...
The World’s Greatest Husband knew he was because his wife gave him a statue declaring it so. It was a goofy, thrift-store tchotchke of an old man with a hairline that receded like his hair was a Sai sword and was dressed like Mr. Rogers and a tired but humble and content visage. He lightly cried when he received it. He had wanted nothing more in life than to love someone and be the best person he could be for them. Love was what gave life meaning and this was tangible proof that he was living life correctly and well. This notion was also sup...
Weekly Contest #340
-Wednesday morning. Another Wednesday morning. Aw hell… I’m afraid to write. I mean, seriously. I’m actually afraid to write. I’m such a fraud. Why am I like this? Why am I at all? Travis said, as if he was speaking to the dog. Olive was his strength, though ironically she too was traumatized, and he loved her so much because she was perhaps the only thing as fragile as him. -Stop that! What are you doing? Travis patted his lap and the shaggy gray dog with the big, sad, soulful eyes walked from the mattress of the bed straight to him, sittin...
There was a park where the old gang used to hang out. It was, in essence, two parks that joined two separate tracks of homes combined by a strip of concrete. With those two neighborhoods representing two very different tax brackets, it was said to be a symbol of community togetherness. Maybe I’m a cynic, but I’m certain it was not intentionally created for the purpose. I imagine it was more like “well, we can’t put a road there so let’s just keep the grass going.” Humanity and its need to falsify higher purpose. Anyway, we spent a fair amoun...
Weekly Contest #339
Jet watched the steam rise from his coffee cup through drooping eyelids. There was something fundamentally different about the smell of the same cup of bargain pods of Folger’s in his childhood home than anywhere else he had laid his head since switching to his thrift store Keurig. He could only imagine that it was a product of cohesion. The smell was more potent here because it became a part of the growing soul of what must have been ten-thousand pots of the stuff that had been brewed here over his lifetime. The smell was childhood to him, ...
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