Mindblown: a blog about philosophy.
-
The Color of Water
Oh, my beautiful Bez, how I dream of you tonight. My sleep has been light, interrupted by dream upon dream of you. In one, we are in a small house in the middle of a field of red poppies, a tiny bent and crooked house, painted white, red brick chimney built at impossible angles. A…
-
Meaningless Phrase
She stands waiting at the top of the stairs, heels, short dress, hair up, expectations up as well. Where was she, an hour ago, two hours? Pressed against a wall, his hands up her short dress, her hair loose and wrapped around his neck, the two of them knotted together against the wallpaper. She laughed…
-
Distractions
Nikola takes me home, once lunch is over, and I kiss him before he rides off on his motorcycle. He’s working on a project that he is eager to return to, one that he won’t discuss with me. I don’t press, because I am the same way when I am working on something as well.…
-
It’s An Honor to Just Be Nominated…
Because everyone likes a little positive reinforcement from time to time, I find it quite wonderful to see that I have been nominated twice over at IndieInk.org for their “Writer of the Month” contest, for my little stories The Claw End and Alpha and Omega. I never win anything, but the possibility still makes my…
-
Scribbling and Scratching
Somehow, without my knowing how I did it, I have gotten eleven chapters written on a novel. I don’t know how that happened, either. Stick with me, friends. It’s a crazy journey that I promise you all here.
-
Unfocused
I recognize this inability to focus as what it is for me, namely the storm before the calm. My brain flits here and there, lighting upon one shiny thing after another, but not being able to rest there for more than a few minutes before it’s off again, following some new bubble of thought. This…
-
The Claw End
It’s hard to concentrate. It could be the alcohol, or it could be the lack of drugs. It could also be the blood loss, or really any combination of the three. I fold myself in half at the waist, my arms behind my back. It’s hard to stay upright, and I’m swaying slightly, left, right,…
-
A Blind Date With a British Comedy Programme
Sheila looks over the menu. “I think I’ll have the lasagne,” she says. “Lasagne!” Colin exclaims. “You know who else liked lasagne? Hitler, that’s who!” “Hitler?” Sheila says. “Yes, Hitler. Actually, it’s the entire reason he joined forces with the Italians during the war, in order to ensure a constant and steady supply of lasagne.…
-
Without Focus
Some nights, here alone in my house, the words I want to write flit about like moths at a bare bulb, and all I need do is reach my hand out and grab them. This is not one of those nights. I phone Nikola, wondering if he will be awake at two in the morning.…
-
Believing or Seeing
Finch tells me: The man sits at the table against the wall, the one that always fills last because it is under the air conditioning vent, and is almost always either too hot or too cold, depending on the season of the year. He is unremarkable to look at–black-rimmed glasses, black jeans, a brown leather…
Got any book recommendations?