My wife Cat and I are on a coastal trip with friends Patrick K., Beth K. and Emily F.
Emily is looking for the beach. But the tide is in. So we have discussions on the nature of the existence of the beach. The beach is technically there, but it is covered in water and thus inaccessible to us for the moment. We all go looking anyway, just to be sure. We cross the highway that divides the land from the water, and find a gravel pit.
There is an odd series of sudden, blink speed, transitions between this coastal trip (outdoor highway, trees, sand dunes) and being indoors at some sort of museum site (lots of deep reddish brown rooms, long curtains – looks like an excerpt from the interior of the black lodge from David Lynch’s Twin Peaks).
Continue reading Dream Journal: March 11, 2016
There is a rehearsal dinner in a fancy, but dimly lit, restaurant for a couple that neither my wife Cat nor I, know. We and everyone else at the dinner wear face masks. There is a lot of silence in the dining hall, as no one feels comfortable talking to anyone else. It is a stifling silence, thick with anticipation. Everything is lit by candlelight, adding additional notes of eerie to the whole affair.
I have a little ball of handmade string, wound up stray hairs and dryer lint that I have collected for the past several months. Or, at least, I had it. It has gone missing. I am looking everywhere for it, and leave the dinner party in a state of distress. I find myself wandering outside, on the seashore, at night, by some docks, looking for it. Continue reading Dream Journal: March 1, 2016
And here (ahem) here we see the STRA-tam of the distinguishable ages of the brick.
That is to say internally consistent characteristics (i.e. color, texture, TASTE) that distinguishes it from contiguous layers. Individual bands may vary in thickness from a few millimeters to a kilometer or more. Each band represents a specific mode of brickmologly (the Portuguese call this Tijology, which some might find easier to say or remember, this will get you extra credit on the final exam) wherewithall the brick, being exposed to variances in silt, hydrogenation, virgin blood, and/or high level doses of travieso radiación can cause the brick matter to blush more and more of a “brick color” as shown here.
No, TRA-vieso, with a “T”.
Looking to this fine photograph, we see many distinct beds. We have the gravel at the bottom, which of course is what all brick aspires to be, without form or color. It is released from the confines of brickdom and at last can evolve to the higher state of rock…which is concrete! “Blessed o fabricante do misturador!”
Continue reading Fiction Short: Bricks