It was 54 George Street in a hidden corner of Manchester and it was dusk. I know it was 54 George Street because my parents made me memorize the address as soon as I was old enough to talk. I know it was dusk because, on the George Street of my memory, the sun had [...]
Author Archive
Relative Safety
Posted: 28th September 2011 by iambarr in ENG 302, ENG 304Tags: childhood, dogs, george street, memoir, sandbox, story
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New Legs
Posted: 15th September 2011 by iambarr in ENG 304Tags: animal, Free Write, puppy, ragnarok, Short Write
Somewhere in the darkness of the living room, against the even darker rug, I can make out the small, barely moving shape of the puppy. He is a Great Dane, his name is Ragnarok, and someday he will be the destroyer of worlds. But tonight, he is simply a puppy. Tonight, he will pee on [...]
Another Messy Home
Posted: 14th September 2011 by iambarr in ENG 302Tags: car, Free Write, observation, Short Write
It’s messy and dirty because it’s always messy and dirty, but messy and dirty this time mostly because of the dog, the dog that sits in her lap when she drives and whines at the radio from the backseat when he can’t sit in her lap. It’s messy because of the monster cans and McDonald’s [...]
Scratched His Life
Posted: 8th September 2011 by iambarr in ENG 302Tags: angry man, car, Free Write, Short Write
Seething, breathing, bulging veins and his fist pushes into his forehead as though digging a tunnel through his head to some heinous and secret place of anger and fuming rage bottled up and held in by skull and jowls and receding hairline, but there’s nothing he can do, the car is scratched and even if [...]
Woke up 35 times tonight, thank you, little larva – dripping, drooling, leaking, crying, aching pain in my ass and I just got to sleep, but there’s no turning back from a thing like this and I’ve only got to wait another 17 ¾ years before you get the hell out of my house, my [...]
Maggie
Posted: 7th September 2011 by iambarr in ENG 302, ENG 304Tags: child, maggie, observation, Short Write
Lying on the couch on her elbows, surrounded by toys, lap pillow desk, markers, portable dvd player Jumping up and down when I give her funny looks Never sitting still, but not hyper, just moving Stands when she sees the cat, chases it, arms out and smiling Mouth always open, tongue moving when she concentrates [...]
Clouds. Rain. Time, but precious little of it. I move through the dense, wet air with a motion somewhat like swimming, somewhat like walking, and I try to get my bearings. I stand firmly on the ground, yet hopelessly lost in the middle of a cloud. Occasionally little pockets of clarity open within the fog [...]
My first office supply order. I’ve got priorities.
One of my personal favorites
Posted: 22nd June 2011 by iambarr in other people's wordsTags: jack winter, language, new yorker, words
This piece makes the rounds every so often and it’s something I never get tired of reading. Reposting it here for the enjoyment of all. How I Met My Wife Jack Winter, the New Yorker, July 25, 1994 It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very [...]