left out in the rain
fiction
edward w pritchard
My life is not like a house of cards,
more like a tinker toy house is my life
that two six year old children left out in the rain
when they had to come into the parlor suddenly for Sunday lunch at grandma's
and the steady rain, wind and drizzle
shrunk and folded
the green plastic tinker toy fan blades
hooked to the tinker toy unpainted wooden stick pieces
supporting the tinker house structure
that once were my plans and dreams
for a life less than ordinary
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Saturday, September 29, 2018
a substitute teacher reinvents christianity
a substitute teacher reinvents christianity
fictiojn
edward w pritchard
She was very tired slouching in an old chair in the teachers break room when she reinvented christianity in her own mind at least. Someone had left a tattered bible on the edge of the screechy over stuffed chair as she was about to nap opened to Isiah. Glancing to a passage underlined in red she watched as the letters rearranged themselves to read
go out and tell some one the secret news
fictiojn
edward w pritchard
She was very tired slouching in an old chair in the teachers break room when she reinvented christianity in her own mind at least. Someone had left a tattered bible on the edge of the screechy over stuffed chair as she was about to nap opened to Isiah. Glancing to a passage underlined in red she watched as the letters rearranged themselves to read
go out and tell some one the secret news
clever, classless and free
clever, classless and free [1]
fiction
edward w pritchard
Perhaps capitalism is the virus, here, in America, like the good witch of the North is the good witch, a horse of a different color. Always there, smiling and blushing, staring out of a billion pages of treaties, constitutions, laws, rules, regulations and taxes. A little tired perhaps but always invisibly on the job.
See the interactive map of pre-Columbus America. See the small red stain start at Jamestown and Plymouth rock. See the red color saturate every river. See the red stain connect spread and saturate up every ancient sacred burial mound looking for treasure. See the States form on the interactive map roughly conforming to disappearing tribal hunting grounds. See the religions disappear. See the settlers work, and struggle, save, plan and worry.
See the 300 million people rushing about. See the people pay the fees to renew their license plates, have their grocery and pizza delivered and drive a driver-less vehicle.
Capitalism has a right to be a little tired here in America.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Perhaps capitalism is the virus, here, in America, like the good witch of the North is the good witch, a horse of a different color. Always there, smiling and blushing, staring out of a billion pages of treaties, constitutions, laws, rules, regulations and taxes. A little tired perhaps but always invisibly on the job.
See the interactive map of pre-Columbus America. See the small red stain start at Jamestown and Plymouth rock. See the red color saturate every river. See the red stain connect spread and saturate up every ancient sacred burial mound looking for treasure. See the States form on the interactive map roughly conforming to disappearing tribal hunting grounds. See the religions disappear. See the settlers work, and struggle, save, plan and worry.
See the 300 million people rushing about. See the people pay the fees to renew their license plates, have their grocery and pizza delivered and drive a driver-less vehicle.
Capitalism has a right to be a little tired here in America.
you can't choose your parents/ part 2
you can't choose your parents/part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Judge- Why are you here
John Ruskin - I am here to testify on Pritchard's behalf
Judge- aren't you John Ruskin British art critic long dead who wrote "the stones of Venice"
Ruskin-yes, but I also wrote criticism about what constitutes good writing
Judge- well Pritchard has been accused of in addition to plain bad writing of misusing the pathetic fallacy in "you can't choose your parents" [part1] by having a Mother in a short story find some potato sacks near a railroad tracks and sew them into a suit for a high school graduation for her son
who must either work in the coal mines the rest of his life or get killed in the military
Ruskin-not guilty of the violation of the pathetic fallacy for I specifically state throughout my criticism to violate the pathetic fallacy with exaggeration or lack of a suitable noble purpose can be done only in poetry not plain writing, good or bad such as short stories, novels etc.
Judge-thanks you Mr.Ruskin, but please do tell us about yourself and rose la touche
Ruskin-no I don't talk about that but if you like scandal read about myself and James Whistler
fiction
edward w pritchard
Judge- Why are you here
John Ruskin - I am here to testify on Pritchard's behalf
Judge- aren't you John Ruskin British art critic long dead who wrote "the stones of Venice"
Ruskin-yes, but I also wrote criticism about what constitutes good writing
Judge- well Pritchard has been accused of in addition to plain bad writing of misusing the pathetic fallacy in "you can't choose your parents" [part1] by having a Mother in a short story find some potato sacks near a railroad tracks and sew them into a suit for a high school graduation for her son
who must either work in the coal mines the rest of his life or get killed in the military
Ruskin-not guilty of the violation of the pathetic fallacy for I specifically state throughout my criticism to violate the pathetic fallacy with exaggeration or lack of a suitable noble purpose can be done only in poetry not plain writing, good or bad such as short stories, novels etc.
Judge-thanks you Mr.Ruskin, but please do tell us about yourself and rose la touche
Ruskin-no I don't talk about that but if you like scandal read about myself and James Whistler
following Seymour Glass and Iris Murdoch up and down the isles at the grocery store
following Seymour Glass and Iris Murdoch up and down the Isles at the grocery store
fiction
edward w pritchard
For a master detective or even just an ordinary cop driving his cruiser on his beat the hardest surveillance job in police work is following a cross town bus up and down the streets of a small city
without being conspicuous. The bus keeps stopping and starting and the officer plays his role by pretending over and over to be looking up street names and directions on a folded up map.
That's how it was for me last Friday night shopping in the ice cream isle at my local store following Seymour Glass and Iris Murdoch up and down the isles at the grocery store. I wanted more than anything to listen to their intriguing conversations but did not want to intrude or be too obvious and draw unwanted and unwarranted attention to myself.
When Seymour is doing anything he gets into it all the way. It took him nearly twenty minutes to pick out an ice cream product for their upcoming after brunch Sunday at the park dessert soiree. So many words were minced to choose chocolate or vanilla, vegan or chemical product.
With Iris its always about relationships, philosophy and metaphysics. Her voice is soft and doesn't carry so I had trouble at times eaves dropping but no matter with Iris the elan of her thoughts is the thing. Once Iris stared me straight in the face as I was pretending to read the ingredients list in a pack
of Eskimo pies. I don't know all the facts but to clear up one thing about Iris I could tell from her smile she likes men,even older ones being a little too nosey and maybe too familiar.
When one of the store employees brought a mop into our isle to clean up a broken glass bottle of Hershey's syrup I had to leave.
As I walked off with my back turned I heard Seymour doing to be or not to be in a falsetto mock British voice like Dick Van Dyke used to bring authenticity to his characterization in Mary Poppins.
That Seymour sometimes he is just an imaginary character, not authentic at all like Iris Murdoch, or myself or the expired actor Dick Van Dyke.
fiction
edward w pritchard
For a master detective or even just an ordinary cop driving his cruiser on his beat the hardest surveillance job in police work is following a cross town bus up and down the streets of a small city
without being conspicuous. The bus keeps stopping and starting and the officer plays his role by pretending over and over to be looking up street names and directions on a folded up map.
That's how it was for me last Friday night shopping in the ice cream isle at my local store following Seymour Glass and Iris Murdoch up and down the isles at the grocery store. I wanted more than anything to listen to their intriguing conversations but did not want to intrude or be too obvious and draw unwanted and unwarranted attention to myself.
When Seymour is doing anything he gets into it all the way. It took him nearly twenty minutes to pick out an ice cream product for their upcoming after brunch Sunday at the park dessert soiree. So many words were minced to choose chocolate or vanilla, vegan or chemical product.
With Iris its always about relationships, philosophy and metaphysics. Her voice is soft and doesn't carry so I had trouble at times eaves dropping but no matter with Iris the elan of her thoughts is the thing. Once Iris stared me straight in the face as I was pretending to read the ingredients list in a pack
of Eskimo pies. I don't know all the facts but to clear up one thing about Iris I could tell from her smile she likes men,even older ones being a little too nosey and maybe too familiar.
When one of the store employees brought a mop into our isle to clean up a broken glass bottle of Hershey's syrup I had to leave.
As I walked off with my back turned I heard Seymour doing to be or not to be in a falsetto mock British voice like Dick Van Dyke used to bring authenticity to his characterization in Mary Poppins.
That Seymour sometimes he is just an imaginary character, not authentic at all like Iris Murdoch, or myself or the expired actor Dick Van Dyke.
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
you can't choose your parents
you can't choose your parents
fiction
edward w pritchard
Technically Lacy and I weren't cousins at all having the same Mother but different father's but right there on the program of high school graduation for Morgan town high 1942 it listed Ma as Lacy's Mother and me as his cousin. Technically as well this wasn't Morgan town's graduation but Osage's a
mining town about eight miles from Morgan town where the coalmines were located and because of the War Mr. x owner of the Mining company had donated use of the company store in Osage for the graduation ceremony of the auxiliary students from Osage receiving their high school diploma. Just Lacy and Sharon X, Mr. X's only child were graduating and of course Sharon was valedictorian coming from the wealthiest family in this part of the State and Lacy was headed for work in the mines.
No matter to Ma, she spent two days sewing Lacy a new graduation suit from a few old potato sacks
someone had abandoned out by the railroad tracks. More than anything Ma wanted to see Lacy walk across the stage. So I sat with Ma listening to Sharon X drone on about her plans at the Ohio State University come fall and I worried I would be fired if I was late for my four o'clock shift at the mine. I kept thinking maybe I should ask Mr. X for a note explaining why I was late to work today.
No matter to me either really. Me and lacy had signed up yesterday for the War and with any luck we will be shipped overseas to fight the Japs or Germans soon. Secretly I wished as I sat there on a broken egg crate listening to Sharon X talk about sorority life at OSU maybe Lacy and me would get blown up defending our country and my younger brother Lacy wouldn't have to work underground whacking out coal 4 pm to midnight for the rest of his life should he survive military service to his county.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Technically Lacy and I weren't cousins at all having the same Mother but different father's but right there on the program of high school graduation for Morgan town high 1942 it listed Ma as Lacy's Mother and me as his cousin. Technically as well this wasn't Morgan town's graduation but Osage's a
mining town about eight miles from Morgan town where the coalmines were located and because of the War Mr. x owner of the Mining company had donated use of the company store in Osage for the graduation ceremony of the auxiliary students from Osage receiving their high school diploma. Just Lacy and Sharon X, Mr. X's only child were graduating and of course Sharon was valedictorian coming from the wealthiest family in this part of the State and Lacy was headed for work in the mines.
No matter to Ma, she spent two days sewing Lacy a new graduation suit from a few old potato sacks
someone had abandoned out by the railroad tracks. More than anything Ma wanted to see Lacy walk across the stage. So I sat with Ma listening to Sharon X drone on about her plans at the Ohio State University come fall and I worried I would be fired if I was late for my four o'clock shift at the mine. I kept thinking maybe I should ask Mr. X for a note explaining why I was late to work today.
No matter to me either really. Me and lacy had signed up yesterday for the War and with any luck we will be shipped overseas to fight the Japs or Germans soon. Secretly I wished as I sat there on a broken egg crate listening to Sharon X talk about sorority life at OSU maybe Lacy and me would get blown up defending our country and my younger brother Lacy wouldn't have to work underground whacking out coal 4 pm to midnight for the rest of his life should he survive military service to his county.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
downtown Akron isn't there anymore
downtown Akron isn't there anymore
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jericho S. Ballard head of maintenance and street repair how we wish you were still with us.
Downtown Akron isn't there anymore. The buildings are all half demolished and the streets are all half rubble.
The people who live there look at their cell phone when you try to talk to them and Domino's pizza delivers product to 100,000 hot spot locations but no homes since everybody rents or stays temporarily with casual acquaintances.
When will the mayor's office reopen Akron U college and who will decorate Christmas the downtown windows at Polsky's and M. Oneil's Department stores now that you are gone to heaven Jericho S. Ballard?[1]
[1] John S. Ballard was mayor of Akron in the halcyon days of our youth
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jericho S. Ballard head of maintenance and street repair how we wish you were still with us.
Downtown Akron isn't there anymore. The buildings are all half demolished and the streets are all half rubble.
The people who live there look at their cell phone when you try to talk to them and Domino's pizza delivers product to 100,000 hot spot locations but no homes since everybody rents or stays temporarily with casual acquaintances.
When will the mayor's office reopen Akron U college and who will decorate Christmas the downtown windows at Polsky's and M. Oneil's Department stores now that you are gone to heaven Jericho S. Ballard?[1]
[1] John S. Ballard was mayor of Akron in the halcyon days of our youth
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)