Belated Season's Greetings

Before we went home for Christmas, Mary and I made some cards. Here's this one.

And this one.

Frosty the Snowman

The most recent post on my friend's blog reminded me of something I wrote a while back. I like his better...

Frosty the Snowman is arrested during a goodwill mission to the USSR. Government officials board his train outside of Moscow while he sleeps in his private compartment. As faceless trench coats search the luggage a small man in an ill-fitting suit examines the visas and stamps of a creased passport through round horn-rimmed spectacles. “Mr. Niveus,” pronounce thin lips, “your visit to our country has been cancelled. You will come with us.” A black Volga idles at the far end of the station. Smoke from the driver’s cigarette swirls and dances and imperceptibly blends with that of the train’s coal heaters.

Hours later the steely pre-dawn silence is rent by screeching tires, and a blur, thrown from a passenger side window, scatters and finds focus on the stones of a public square. The Anatolian sun rises on a corncob pipe, an old top hat, a pair of wet gloves and a placard that reads ‘Shpion’.

Cossack Romanticism

Due to the ceaseless requests of my three fans to resume posting, and my procrastination in the face of graduate school applications, I now present a poem, which I composed in Sapphic meter. I had read nothing but novels about Cossacks and Cowboys in the months leading up to this, and they clearly tainted the color of my ink. Enjoy.

Grisha, brother, where is your horse? Upon warm-

Browed and snorting marvels you flashed like lightning.

Now, in place of steeds a machine with cold black

Oil in its steel veins.

Shod in rubber, clothed in exhaust, the sparks of

Life are just sparks. Clockwork alone feigns God’s great

Gift. My friend! Leave it by the wayside! Now, take

Back what has long passed!

Flesh and blood and glistening mane on four strong

Legs you drive. The damp earth is upturned by pared hooves.

Charging home, a whisper, a dream inscribes your

Soul with its birth-right.

Olympic "Sports"

I have long maintained that some sports just don't belong in the Olympics. Namely, any sport that requires a panel of judges that awards points based on style or artistry or anything else of that nature. I feel like it's a slippery slope. After all, almost any activity can be assessed by a panel of expert judges. Reality television has taught us nothing if not that. What's next? Ballroom dancing? Cake decorating? Hedge trimming?

I will be the first one to say that pretty much all of the sports currently in the Olympics, whose scoring is completely arbitrary, demand an incredible amount of skill and athleticism. But when it really comes down to it, there's no room for sequins in international athletic competition.

Letter from a Concerned Observer

Dear Mr. James Rat Esq.,

I just wanted to thank you for leaving hundreds of pounds of weights on the gym equipment day after day.  I really appreciate the amount of effort required to put those onerous discs into position.  Thank you for leaving them there for the next brute to come along and do two reps.  You are as considerate as your sleeves are long.  My only regret is that you and I will not long be fellow travelers on this terraqueous sphere, as your poor small heart will no doubt fail under the pressure of providing blood to the far reaches of that grotesque configuration of muscles you call a body.

Sincerely,

Humanity

Flash Fiction

I recently entered a flash fiction contest (fiction under 100 words) and I was selected as one of five finalists.  I didn't win the final round, but it was a good first go.  Check out the podcast next month to hear the story read aloud by someone else.  Here's my entry:

Our Heritage

Enrolled as continuing education students, Brigham Young and Karl Maeser are summoned to the Honor Code office.  Brigham is lectured to about integrity and faces probation.  Karl was detained by a previous commitment.  

There's my story in all its glory.

Word of the Day

execrable |ˈeksikrəbəl|adjectiveextremely bad or unpleasant : execrable cheap wine.