“Things being what they are,” he said, “creates a quandrary. For he who states this, wants something. He wants to speak it into existence. By saying ‘It is what it is,’ he is trying to say ‘Tis,’ or ‘Yes.” “But,” […]
There was once a boy with monsters for hands. One monster was a little ectoplasm blob which was covered with mouths, constantly eating. The boy had to keep this hand gloved, or else he could not type or hold things, […]
I wheel the bike up to his undisclosed location, and, spying me from the window, he springs out the front door and jogs up to meet me. Laughing, he picks me up and twirls me around, as robins twitter and the sky glows cobalt blue.