November 13, 2019
Okay, okay, I admit to being wrong. I admit it only insofar as a Miss Peggy Drew admits to not responding to not three or four or even five ( ! ) of my text messages that I sent when I was deep in a love sickness that she, Peggy, was the most definite cause. Because, because — was I ever unreasonable? I don’t think I was ever unreasonable.
November 12, 2019
A manifesto in consideration for the anti-aesthetics of art in food.
You see, or will eventually come to, most people want their food, their expression, their physical representation of what lies beneath to be the perfectly picked apple in the garden, the dew still glistening upon the waxy skin calling to mind the virginal offering to you: the eater, the consumer, the audience.
We stand shadowless to negate that pristine standard of high society engaging in art for pay.
November 11, 2019
“No, I think we’ll forgo the starters and go straight to the mains.” Robert said, with an impish smile which Sophie nervously returned.
Robert Carrington had put himself off of the dating market at some point around the summer of 2009 due to health reasons. Something never felt quite right in his head about it.
But now, seven years later,
November 8, 2019
“Here We Are and How We Got Here”
My maternal grandfather died in his early fifties from lung cancer.
My paternal grandmother died in her late forties or early fifties of a brain embolism.
However, my paternal grandfather died in his eighties, the quiet sins of the body and patience prevailing in their insurgency of his pleura.