more gonzo journalism, writer relaxes and gossips after a few beers

Above: Magpie on the Gallows, Peter Brueghel

More gonzo journalism, writer relaxes and gossips after a few beers

fiction
edward w pritchard

Allegory as a literary device may be presented as an extended metaphor. Brueghel's work is subject to many interpretations; but is commonly viewed as allegory.

Who is the magpie sitting on the gallows? Is there a biblical interpretations, a proverbial warning, to be taken from Brueghel's Magpie on the gallows. Is the magpie meant to symbolize gossiping, the artist as an observer being a gossip or behaving in a merely voyeuristic manner.

The landscape is beautiful. Some of the locals dance, some watch the developing scene maybe in judgment, and one man squatting, in the lower left of the picture which and where  Bruegel usually leaves blank for his signature; one man squatting attends to his daily bathroom constitutional activities.

Is the picture an allegory, an extended metaphor for the political uncertainty existing in Brueghel's homeland at the time of the painting in 1568. Or is the picture just a flight into the artist's imagination. Sans allegory, sans metaphor, a twisted voyage into the artists troubled subconscious, regurgitated on canvas.

Artists, writers and other so called creative types, is there any meaning to their efforts. Or is it just misdirected moralizing presented as a confusing disarray of unsaleable dribble.

afternoon lasts forever

afternoon lasts forever

fiction
edward w pritchard

Double periods are difficult to teach; two double periods in a row gets a teacher through the morning but it is hard to do it everyday.

About November of her twelfth year teaching  the toll of teaching double periods began to exhaust Mrs. Kersey. One afternoon, standing in the hall between classes she realized that she had been teaching the same day over and overall for as long as she could remember. As she thought about it for the first time, after a long morning of double periods, she became aware that she was always at the school, always teaching her twelveth year, and she never got to go home to see her family any more.

Mrs. Kersey became aware that her afternoon would last forever and she was stuck standing in the hall waiting for the bell to ring to begin to teach her afternoon class; stuck forever and forever with no way out.

a big picture type of guy

 a big picture type of guy

fiction
edward w pritchard

Dr. Mitko was a big picture type. Spinning galaxies, black holes and first moment of big bangs for his taste. Using equations he carefully explained the origins of things to his students and the rest of us who would listen. The minutiae of creation, protons, quarks and strings, held no interest for Dr. Mitko.

Dr. Mitko's  went on that way for fifteen years after he received his Doctorate of theoretical physics. He was researching what would happen one trillion years in the future when the universe ran down, would it be possible to use a worm hole in space to move to a bubble universe and for existence to continue, when Dr. Mitko got the news about his son Erin.

Five years after Dr. Mitko's son Erin was born the boy developed a rare form of cancer. With his wife, Dr. Mitko listens carefully as Doctor Sharon Kelly and Doctor Stubbs oncologists explains their son's Erin's options based on their prognosis of Erin's problems at a cellular level. Using the latest technology Keye Mitko and his wife Laurie watch as the Doctor's demonstrate what is happening inside their son's body.
end

Rosaline stops by for a comment

Rosaline stops by for a comment

fiction
edward w pritchard

Cruel men who would us a bed,
duty of offsprings fullfilled more than once
then write odes to another
14 or 40 we all the same
a slip of a leg
and a rose is deflowered, well maybe if not first then
replaced in name only
by a crow who
thinks his poetry immortal so her to be
though thou poetry
stinks since first was hatched
and his ancient technique stumbles if upright if at all

mercutio stops by for a chat

mercutio stops by for a chat

fiction
edward w pritchard

I am not a formal type of guy
but lets introduce ourselves, me be Mercutio;
I have the greatest supporting lines in all of literature
and you write some, its all over the place, but
still a writer sort of never the less, Will could be the same way, so I help you for him, who created me
anyway I am not here to talk about writing
but to give some advice, like I tried to do with my friend, Coz Romeo,
with women, Just let things happen
forget about your Rosaline, she's not real you know,
it was all a dream, in a dream
just look at their legs
the rest will take care of itself
it's never too late to do the wrong thing
then be secret and silent
the ball will start to roll
later you can write and write
odes to their varicose veins
they like that,
even if it makes them a little mad to be mentioned
end

Vincent, I forget your sad eyes sometimes old friend

Vincent, I forget your sad eyes sometimes old friend

fiction
edward w pritchard

I had a nice Mexican meal, tacos and rice
and I listened to music a long time.
I exersized and I walked a long way,
and I was alone, lots and lots,
sorry old egg;
Vincent I forget your sad eyes sometimes,

old friend, maybe I'll  see your again later

for sad Lisa again/to marianne faithful

for sad Lisa again/to marianne faithful

fiction
edward w pritchard

how many times do I have to apologize, really
i went and did it, my fault, I admit it
that Summer night
you were feeling better
I wanted to see you in those socks, the mid thigh striped ones
and the patent leather shoes
you know how we get after that
sorry, sorry sorry
lets read our books together now
and pretend something noble