This week we delve a little more deeply into a five stories of everyday people in and around Our Fair City. You can read further about them on the newspaper’s website through the links provided below: 1) Ex-felons baptized in sunset ceremony at Forgiveness House http://www.commercialappeal.com/photos/2010/aug/24/183639/ http://www.commercialappeal.com/photos/2010/aug/24/183555/ 2) Elvis Tribute Artists take the stage during [...]

New sun rose and with it came the new life of spring spreading across the small country village. A father and son toiled upon fresh earth, preparing for the new season. Father paused to stand resting upon his shovel, dragging a worn and battered sleeve across his sweaty brow. “Aye son, keep at it.” “And [...]

Eliza Mae Constant was a beautiful woman. She was a singer and a performer who used her magic to make light dance to her song. She was beloved by the people of Magictown, a bright ray of happiness through the dower cloud that hung perpetually over the city. But all that was gone now, David [...]

Like a refracted shadow, I was with you when the raw chords curled around all of the threaded veins to form the first semblance of a song. Caressing the ruby endings of exposed and unformed currents, linked through the puzzle of your pre-existence, I swirled in the expectant sacs, poised to suck in the world [...]

Paper Girl Morning makes tough. Heavy thighs. My eyes, my sore feet. Holy basil and toast. Fall just folds summer up in slanting sun – an origami bird burnt, paper sun phoenix. The whole world is windchimes. Sleep just folds me up.

First off, let me apologize for the malware warnings you’ve been getting all morning. They are scary as hell for you and really annoying for me, since I know what part of the site was affected by the attack. The Bad Things were hidden away in a part of the site that no use could [...]

This week I am getting close to finishing a blanket. Not usually my cup of tea, but this one is magnificent. There are 2 reasons why. 1. I love scrap yarn projects. Previously I did rugs. I feel like the noble green knitter using the discarded trash of consumer thirsty beasts. Also, I am cheap [...]

A glance backward in time from one battlefield to another.

Here’s a video from our pre-baby past. More photos to come once we get our lives settled into some semblance of normalcy again. While traveling around Europe, my Charming Southern Bride and I spent three working on an Irish cattle farm. We thought it was going to be a romantic pastoral escape in delightful scenery. [...]

This is a photograph of an airplane I took while on my way to the Obama Inauguration in Washington D.C. Taken while barreling down the interstate at 85 miles an hour. yeah. It was also very, very AM.

Title: Our First Kiss Word: Monumental Submission by Laurel. 200 words about what happens when you share secrets: In the woods north of where I grew up, we both stir, half-dreaming, in our sleeping bags. The morning light works its way through the walls of the tent. The cool dew is held back. We camp [...]

For three long years, the seven were my constant company. To be without any one of them became a torture. Emotions became threatening, save for the cool, relaxing embrace of glorious misery. Our world was so different from the one that you know. Reality was bland. Our world was a poem, rich in meaning, in [...]

RARRR!

Chapter 4: In Which I Oversee Puppets, England Enters War, and I Become Scandalously Wealthy! Following a six month honeymoon in Italy (boring!),  France (irritating!),  Egypt (droll!), the United States (simply hideous!) and Spain (ghastly!), Edwina and I took up residence in Chump Hall, a small mansion owned by my family for generations, and not [...]

Domestic Sinister The relief of stretching flesh, the turning of fall – lantana begonia. Caterpillar. What will you do if your bird bones break? Gutted and uncomfortable. But some new ones are beautiful and sing! Gorgeous clementines with purpled poppy lips. I fear the worst and want for you one that sings (in the narrow [...]

Seven Sorrows By Iain McLellan Woessner I am the youngest person ever to be sent to Death Row. My name is August. August Carmichael, and I have been convicted of the murder of ten people. My sentence, severe as it is, is justified in the minds of the courts due to the horrifying, brutal, and [...]

Shot this while on my way to the Obama Inauguration a couple of years ago.

Okay, after a nice delay, I’m getting back to the piano melody that was posted several weeks ago. I had it all worked out as a slow, maudlin ballad, but it just didn’t feel right. This is a rough (read: ROUGH) recording of the direction I’m taking the song. Next week, I’ll have re-recorded everything [...]

An abbreviated telling of Miss Eliza Clementine’s appearance on the scene.

In addition to being a complete racist, it is arguable that H.P. Lovecraft was one of the most influential horror writers of all time.  His tales, particularly those of the so-called Cthulhu Mythos, published in pulp magazines of the 20’s and 30’s, served as inspiration for countless writers that followed him, including the likes of [...]

No punchline for this week’s print, just my favourite lizard.

Back in the car, hurrying to the heart of the city, the trio of magics are surprised at the number of people they find packed into the town square. “Never seen so many people out here. ‘Specially not for something like this.” Turning onto the street that borders the southern side of the town square, [...]

My lovely Beau and I have been working on a comic for a good part of a year now. At this point, we’ve reached a sort of apex between script being done, and me having to settle down and really start drawing. To keep myself motivated, here is a drawing of my first take on [...]

Chapter 3: In Which I Receive A Gentleman’s Education As Well as Make a New Friend. Also a Bride. Following that magical summer, it was time to become a true scholar and attend University.  I, of course, enrolled in Oxford.  Javington was almost dealt a crippling blow when it appeared he might have to attend [...]

Stroke Call Giver away of things, mender, meddler of family weight. Now still, stroke-bound, not giving. Loss and guilt – typical: a grandparent grown tiresome with the giving away of unwanted things. My house is not unlike hers, the hand-sewn quilts. She was busy despite her failing hands, always doing. I like to be still. [...]