tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post7402379458090198312..comments2024-03-24T11:17:10.498-07:00Comments on Unemployed Imagination.: 2 Minutes. Go!JD Maderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-73095429829676533562016-09-04T10:36:17.481-07:002016-09-04T10:36:17.481-07:00that's beautiful Lelandthat's beautiful Leland Ruairí Murphyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03879381941637430418noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-90519760790490723372016-09-03T22:27:27.863-07:002016-09-03T22:27:27.863-07:00Thanks Brian. You should come throw down with us. ...Thanks Brian. You should come throw down with us. Mi blog es su blog. JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-51237314126950473692016-09-03T15:42:30.897-07:002016-09-03T15:42:30.897-07:00Thank you!Thank you!Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-7468266395627101982016-09-03T15:42:09.059-07:002016-09-03T15:42:09.059-07:00Thanks! I actually got to shake the hand of the ma...Thanks! I actually got to shake the hand of the maestro himself... quite a delightful imp he was...Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-1271256519059431472016-09-03T15:41:07.857-07:002016-09-03T15:41:07.857-07:00Thank God we can't edit life... we'd take ...Thank God we can't edit life... we'd take out all the stuff that brought us to where we are today, and we'd just be a bunch of vanilla custard with no texture, no taste, and no fiber... this is a really cool piece.Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-24004946196277504282016-09-03T15:39:34.102-07:002016-09-03T15:39:34.102-07:00I can almost smell the mustiness of the summer hou...I can almost smell the mustiness of the summer house... and the desperation held at bay... It really is well-played, to borrow a word from an esteemed colleague Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-52764999192528014702016-09-03T15:37:52.537-07:002016-09-03T15:37:52.537-07:00Reading it out loud just confirms its beauty... an...Reading it out loud just confirms its beauty... and its spookiness... and the alliterations are well done without being pretentious!Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-26694875447570756392016-09-03T15:36:39.024-07:002016-09-03T15:36:39.024-07:00I don't know what to call this kind of fiction...I don't know what to call this kind of fiction... a lament? a paean? But whatever you call it, it's brilliant, and Lord how I identify!Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-24192775236919896332016-09-03T15:35:30.663-07:002016-09-03T15:35:30.663-07:00I believe that may be the highest compliment I'...I believe that may be the highest compliment I've ever been paid...Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-31033082933508630782016-09-03T15:34:52.020-07:002016-09-03T15:34:52.020-07:00yep, I want to read more, and right now, if you pl...yep, I want to read more, and right now, if you please!Leland Dirkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00813252580295128296noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-59858973767293331982016-09-03T15:27:58.792-07:002016-09-03T15:27:58.792-07:00Dude, this Friday thing you've going is fuckin...Dude, this Friday thing you've going is fucking brilliant. I'm fixing to funnel folks your way. Brian Panowichhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09667231821469737195noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-52138184083203821342016-09-03T11:45:00.927-07:002016-09-03T11:45:00.927-07:00Love this piece, and not just because of the fishi...Love this piece, and not just because of the fishing. ;) Super strong narrative, great sensory detail. I love the weaving of stories. Really well played. JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-44758850764892008532016-09-03T11:40:35.507-07:002016-09-03T11:40:35.507-07:00This is a cool piece, lady. Fun, but also scary an...This is a cool piece, lady. Fun, but also scary and super cool rendering.JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-39531127887024457692016-09-03T11:32:06.067-07:002016-09-03T11:32:06.067-07:00Oh, man. This is lovely. Seems to me like the word...Oh, man. This is lovely. Seems to me like the word bucket is doing alright. Love the shrivelled blue stain.JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-85684338944076885672016-09-03T11:29:56.671-07:002016-09-03T11:29:56.671-07:00:) Fuck Hemingway:) Fuck HemingwayJD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-82253075853602628522016-09-03T11:29:27.355-07:002016-09-03T11:29:27.355-07:00Me too. and that last line killsMe too. and that last line killsJD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-88962154853341083112016-09-03T06:12:43.846-07:002016-09-03T06:12:43.846-07:00I want to see more. DefinitelyI want to see more. DefinitelyTeresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-25728695203450589672016-09-03T06:08:10.471-07:002016-09-03T06:08:10.471-07:00I get the rhyming thing myself sometimes. Makes me...I get the rhyming thing myself sometimes. Makes me think I have to learn to write all over again...but it's mostly just fatigue.<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-73054156222538748182016-09-03T06:06:22.557-07:002016-09-03T06:06:22.557-07:00I want to know all about these two.
I want to know all about these two.<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-59496253114128562392016-09-03T06:05:04.540-07:002016-09-03T06:05:04.540-07:00A really gorgeous piece, Leland. Bravo!
A really gorgeous piece, Leland. Bravo!<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-89642655675351026202016-09-03T06:03:13.423-07:002016-09-03T06:03:13.423-07:00So Lovely...So Lovely...Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-26472005715943775142016-09-03T06:02:20.627-07:002016-09-03T06:02:20.627-07:00Last line knocks it outta the park!
Last line knocks it outta the park!<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-14832192560398186762016-09-02T19:54:09.795-07:002016-09-02T19:54:09.795-07:00Thank you for the kind comments. I always enjoy re...Thank you for the kind comments. I always enjoy reading everything created by this group. Intangible Heartshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05047040538015079182noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-83166700480650563882016-09-02T16:53:04.460-07:002016-09-02T16:53:04.460-07:00Phil pulled up to the intersection and turned to h...Phil pulled up to the intersection and turned to her right. The sign in the window read, “Fresh Bait For Sale.” <br /><br />Wow. It was still there after all these years. The price had gone up a bit, but it was still there. She remembered the way it smelled the most. The dank smell of the earth as old man Wooster scooped up the worms mixed with the musky scent of tobacco and the sweetness of fruit. She could almost hear the buzzing of the refrigeration units that held the milk, eggs and beer that Wooster sold to the vacationers who were too lazy to head back to the store on the mainland where it was half the price. <br /><br />Her grandpa used to bring her here every summer on Saturdays before they took the boat out fishing. Rain or shine, every Saturday they went fishing. Except for that last Saturday. Only hurricane force winds or family tragedy could keep that great old man from going fishing. <br /><br />Fishing was a silent activity, but she didn’t mind. So was that final ride home. It had been 20 years since that day, since she’d last gone fishing with the greatest man she would ever know. Twenty years since her sister ran off to wherever she’d been the last two decades without a word to her family, and Grandpa had to rush her home so her mother could pat her head and cry and make her feel invisible. <br /><br />Phil hadn’t come back. Her mother couldn’t bear to see her leave for her usual summers with her grandfather, and she couldn’t bring herself to go. A few years later she was off to college herself, and the time kept marching by a little faster each year. After his arthritis made it hard for him to get up and down the stairs, he closed up the summer house and stayed in town year-round. <br /><br />He was gone now. He left her the summer house. And so she returned for the summer to take stock of the damage that life had done in the last 20 years. A wedding, a funeral, a loss of sobriety, a downsizing, a dissolution of marriage followed by a tenuous hold on sobriety, and a car full of boxes she’d packed, moved, and now moved again having never unpacked in the first place. <br /><br />What the hell was she thinking?Stephaniehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17827590182828941481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-1717898324750000832016-09-02T16:42:36.061-07:002016-09-02T16:42:36.061-07:00The Prophet Manassas lives in my neighborhood
He’s...The Prophet Manassas lives in my neighborhood<br />He’s got a robo call; he’s reaching out to all for all the good.<br />With an unidentified number and a message for all<br />He ‘s had vision and If I only press one, I’ll save myself and my loved ones<br />He preaches a message of sabotage. conspiracy, and fear.<br />All the sheer uncertainty<br />Of living though the passion of the Father and the Son, the holy Ghost and Mother Mary, the Clintons and the rest.<br />He knows who are our enemies, the moneyed and the rest. <br /><br />He’s got him some inside information<br />He’s got him a praying congregation<br />For a lousy ten bucks we get in with the in crowd<br />Where God anoints us<br />And speaks from the loud <br />To confirm all our darkness and speak it out loud.<br />And all our misgivings<br />We get God and his minions<br />And we get instructions, too.<br />By giving up our credit cards<br />We buy our way out of<br />Distrust and confusion<br />Live in the Light<br />And Lose the Illusions<br />The prophet Manasass<br />Hears God’s direct voice, and he’s here to tell us, we ain’t got a choice.<br />“Put your faith in the prophet”<br /> Or take what you get<br />Ignore his message at your own risk<br />Mind your P’s and q’s<br />Pay the devil his due.<br />Or the Prophet Manasass<br />Like Santa<br />Will move on and groove on and soon be calling YOU!<br />Teresa Kennedy Village Green Presshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03588835504403590614noreply@blogger.com