I’ve started reading through my Collection of Recollections, that long piece of writing that I’ve been pounding out on my typewriter over the last year. I’m only 20 pages in and it’s shit. Continue reading “First read through the pre-first draft”
Being good looking has always been my cross to bear. It started from an early age and has stuck with me through the years. It’s not something I ever asked for, but we play the hand we’re dealt, I guess. Continue reading “It’s Hard to be Good Looking”
Please let me apologise for the delay in my response. When you’ve been given time, eternal amounts of it, it passes quickly and is spent on nothing. Any amount of work, no matter how pleasurable, seems not a waste but neither is it urgent. Continue reading “May 22, 2016”
Dear Mr. Walter,
It was great to hear back from you. I certainly was not expecting a reply.
I realized that I didn’t tell you my name in my initial letter. My name is Timothy F. Nash. Continue reading “April 21, 2016”
Thank you for your letter. I was very happy to receive it, as one of the things I wanted most in life was to have a penpal. There is something magical about reading a handwritten letter. Perhaps it lies in its distinction from the neatly typed bank statements and solicitors’ letters that we all receive. Continue reading “April 11, 2016”
Dear Mr. Walter,
I read your obituary in yesterday’s paper this evening and felt compelled to write to you. Knowing very little about your life, other than what your family shared in the notice of your death, I’m still curious about what your life meant now that you are no longer living. Continue reading “April 5, 2016”
Last week I wrote a quick post on doing weird things and needing to be taught how to recognize and correct these errors. While putting away some papers that have been sitting on my desk for a while, I found this transcribed conversation that I had with myself about a month ago. This is probably as close as anyone, myself included, will get to the sober conversations that continue unceasingly on in my head. Continue reading “In Conversation With Myself”
I haven’t forgotten about this friend of ours, who I have created. When given a moment, I often think about her, and wonder where’s she’s been and where she might be headed.
I’m at the laundromat, so I’ve got some time. Continue reading “The Angry Buddhist – 2”
Whenever I think about Buddhism I immediately envision a cat lady. Not an old cat lady, but a young one who still has time to find a lifetime lover. She’s probably about thirty-eight, with crow’s-feet. Her hair is shoulder length, and she wears flats regularly. Continue reading “The Angry Buddhist – 1”