After the Boon, or Returning to Earth…

The past two weeks have blurred into a string of words: diarrhea, elation, fear, palpitation, sweat, congratulations, diarrhea. The inevitable realities of life intrude like they always do: transmission problems, black ink low lights, unfortunate weight gain.

I met with my writing group last night. Our goal is and has been, to each submit an entry to the PNWA literary contest. I intended to enter the novel, but the rules say no published work (heh heh, still weird). I waded through my short stories and Pink Flokati floated to the top. It is the story of a father emerging from a haze of despair through conversations with catalog representatives and obsessive hoarding. The due date for the entry is the 20th, so I'm listening to Dead Can Dance; they help me to find that moody grieving place necessary for this kind of story. What is it about faux medieval canticles, Lisa?


Anonymous said…
Ok, you have tooooo much time on yor hands. But, you are a funny man and this we love you for. Congrats Mr. Henry!

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