September 30, 2010
Beneath the Rows
Alone. (With a nod to Micah P. Hinson.)
A night in the cornfield, seized before all is laid waste.
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comments:
- Joel Bernstein: I know right?
- Rick Neece: Being nice is a dainty way to put it.
- Rick Neece: Hey Cristopher? Who cried “uncle” first, at the end of your ten-year stand-off? To quote my...
- Michael Smith: Ours is the kitchen.
- Amy Mabli: That’s what happens when you give the dogs the bed.
- Deron Bauman: Sweet Jesus.
- Michael Smith: Don’t we all.
- Pam: I have a story coming out soon in a ‘little mag’, Chicago Quarterly Review. An old friend recently...
- Pam: And I thought, somedays, that my work was meaningless…
- Pam: I remember Eggleston at the Art Institute in Chicago a couple years ago. He was elegantly dressed in a dark suit...
- Christopher Walken: Hey Clusterflockers, Realize y’all are hurting. I’ve been a really close friend of my...
- Marco: This works pretty well in mobile, more so in iOS
- Michael Smith: It was not the intent of management to imply all sissies are “namby pamby”. Management was...
- Rick Neece: I take umbrage with the term “namby pamby.” Some sissies are fierce.
- Carole Corlew: Shelia. Happy no big deal day. I would start your very own post but this phone is in semi rebellion.
Brought from behind a screen. I adore everything you bring.
I like this, Sheila.
Oh, Rick. Thank you.
What I bring, it’s no less true for being presented from behind a screen. In fact, the screen helps me show you what’s true.
Deron, that means a lot.
it’s really good.
More stills from an imaginary cornfield film here. (And thank you once again, Deron.) Oh, and here.
Shelia, what ARE you doing out there????
Or is this a smoke and mirrors thing. So to speak. Help.
Just a girl out looking for a little fun. In a cornfield.
Oh, Carole, I just realized that you might be wondering, What the hell is that?, like my Chicago friend who asked if it was some kind of seed sorter to which I was clinging.
If that is what you were wondering, I apologize for being oblique.
And it is a piece of a fireplace screen.
I carry all manner of props and costumes in my car, which can get interesting when I am pulled over by the cops.
I can just imagine. “Hmmmm. If this is a torture situation, how would it work? And she’s pretty little. Maybe hypnotizes her victims into the cornfield with her eyes.”
I lure victims to their doom by telling them, “You can make me a star.” That kind of throws them off balance, being a kind of reversal of the usual and all.
On the other hand . . .