Garage Sale (hopefully, the first of a few) Saturday, April 22, 2006. Approximately 10:00AM - whenever 801 W Hickory Street.

Typewriters, suits, “art,” oddments, knickknacks, bits and pieces, clothing, electronics, dress shirts, leftovers, miscellany, musical instruments, neckties, notions, novelties, jewelry, patchwork, rags, refuse, scraps, ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

This week is brought to you in part by the color Celedon Green, the Ermine Moth and the use of the word “flamingo” as a verb.

“The days are shrinking my son. The fellows sitting on the front of that red car told me that the sun sets sooner and sooner each day.”

“No, don’t try to talk to them. They’re sleeping now.”

“Oh dear, a running dog just woke up the guy by the garage. Now, whatever you do, don’t mistake his frantic screeds or joyous blubbering for any ( Read more... )

Plus ça change…

I seem to recall dreaming about the Kalevala last night. It has been on my mind quite a bit lately. My first experience with the Finnish epic[1] was when I was much younger. My parent's were inveigled into purchasing a subscription to Childcraft Books. It was kindergarten, and there had been a handout at school that one could ( Read more... )

29

The shimmer of the air inside the car is hardly inviting, and driving with the air conditioning on always leads to sluggish shifting. Removing your jacket (what were you thinking when you consulted the closet this morning?) you unbutton your cuffs and roll up your sleeves. Shifting into reverse, you ease out of what’s known as Denton’s most ( Read more... )

56

The rest of your day is spent combing through the key chains, but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve wasted time. But time isn’t and cannot be wasted; your search was just in vain. Several rows of brass fobs stamped with astrological symbols later, and still no Leo.

Tummy growling, you decide to retreat and head home, where air ( Read more... )

34

Interactive fiction has several stand-bys and linchpins. Here we rely on one of these clichéd standards to plod/prod along toward the point of this post: You find nothing of interest.

And you won't be finding Happiness here for another few years.
To proceed to checkout, Turn to Page 20.

78

It’s always surprising. There’s an unspoken uniformity in the sort of stuff that finds its way into the Dollar Stores in this town. Among the aisles of familiar and amusing things, your memory reminds you that you needn’t buy more RCA cables, and after briefly considering some kind of counter-intuitive use of mouse-traps, you settle on an ( Read more... )

90

An ode to the wonders of Texas summers is composed in your head as you pace down the parking lot toward the bomb-scare Wells-Fargo bank. The ode is only one word, and could not be recited on television or radio. Every pore will be pouring sweat before you can stuff two twenties into a wallet that is really worse for wear ( Read more... )