These are notes I’ve jotted down and meant to go back to but I have little intention of doing so. And in some cases I don’t even remember why I was making the notes to begin with. This is what a writer’s/writers’ block purge looks like.
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Fairies
Green Fairy: adolescent, drunken-ness. Perpetual childhood (Tinkerbell, absinthe)
Blue Fairy: reality, growing up, responsibility (Pinocchio’s angel, Glinda the Good witch)
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Plato for Preschoolers
This is Plato. He looks like Santa.
Plato likes smart people.
Plato does not like the dark.
Plato thinks if you know what is good you can’t be bad.
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And then, like a flash, he was gone….
Dawn dawned, as dawns tend to dawn, over Portland that dawn. As the city awoke its citizens pumped through the cosmopolitan arteries, little realizing that a hero was walking among them…
I have a Latin teacher who really deserves to written into a character in a novel, because he is just so unusual and confident at the same time. He likes to use examples of academic prowess and moments of revealed character to inspire his students to study and work hard to achieve something, but he has no modesty in his small frame so his examples all involve himself: He is the world’s leading James Joyce scholar, he will say; he once killed a water moccasin that was sneaking up on Clarence Thomas; as he would walk down the cobbled streets in Oxford people would trail after him, fans of some quiz show he had appeared on.
He must be rubbing off on me a little because I’ve had this overwhelming urge to tell one story in particular over the last couple of days.
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Six Quirky Things
iMommy tagged me to write six quirky things about myself.
(Editor’s Note: FAIL)
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Tiger Tiger
When he was 17 he lied about his age and joined the army, to serve his country in Vietnam. Or so I’ll suppose. Blah blah blah…what’s up with the huge tattoo of a tiger’s head on your engorged abdomen, dude? And why do you have to be lying on that particular grassy knoll with your pants undone, Flashing the Tiger while you doze?