Her name is Octavia Fabrizi and she is 76-years-old. Born in Florence, Italy, she has lived her entire live on the outskirts of the villa where she and her husband have a small business selling baked goods. Every morning before work, Octavia takes up her bicycle and rides for five miles back and forth It is this exercise, and her love of life, that has kept her alive. Or so Octavia believes. Possibly she is right. It is a question that does not bother her overmuch. She's seen too many, older and younger, pass on to the Otherworld and, thus,...
The baker is making a pie.
Why, oh why,
Was I not invited?
You had a big party.
I wasn't invited.
I never am.
It's a dance, this time.
And I'm still not invited.
Why?
I guess it's better to say,
I'm uninvited.
More than enough.
I looked back thinking about all of the things in that village. i didn't like the thoughts of that, but i have moved on now and i am hoping that this new apartment block will accept me. i walk in the door, it makes a loud creak and i look at the first desk that is there and there is one person sitting at the desk. as i wait on the comfortable lounge chairs i see her juggling three phone calls along with two computers. i just arrived at what could be my new home with a bit of cash...
Too saccharine. Too weepy. No dice.
We've heard of monkeys. All kinds of monkeys. We've heard that we're most closely genetically related to bonobos, we've heard about the flying monkeys of Oz, but what we certainly haven't heard enough about is the infamous "Green Monkeys of Bainsville." You're wondering, what are these fascinating creatures, and where do they originate? Well, if you don't know where Bainsville is...you probably never will. It's tiny. It's known for little else than it's rest stop, although it should be known for it's green monkeys. These devilish little creatures love nothing more than getting up to good old fashioned South Glengarry...
The first time I ever saw Eve, she was laying down on a blue picnic blanket that convered a smooth cement floor. She was holding a bundle of pink and purple balloons resting her head on a bright polka-dotted pillow and staring up at the clear blue sky. Her image printed itself onto my heart. I walked up to talk to her and looked down and her dark brown eyes looking up at me. I asked her what she was doing. She took such a long time to answer my question that I was afraid I'd offended her.
When she...
I lost my grip on the wheel. It had happened before, but it wasn't nearly as embarrassing as now. I had just left P.E. with a friend of mine, rolling up the steep hill from the gym toward the vocational building. As usual, I made my slow way up that hill, my forearms and biceps flexing as I pushed my wheelchair, struggling but too proud to ask for help.
Then, again as usual, I approached the next decline, a cement hill with a white awning over it. With a grin, I pushed down and let go. As usual. But, then...
Da dum de dum, normal day- HOLY SH*T I'M FLOATING. WHAT THE HECK. I'M FLOATING. WAIT A MINUTE HOLD IT IS THAT A PINEAPPLE. WHY IS THERE A PINEAPPLE- oh hey Jenny. Guess what? WE'RE FLOATING. WE ARE FLOATING IN THE SKY. I AM SO CONFUSED. WHY ARE WE FLOATING. AND WHY ARE THERE RANDOM ALARM CLOCKS. THAT ARE ALSO FLOATING. I AM FLOATING. WE ARE ALL FLOATING. WHAT THE HECK.
I was trying to count them. The little bastards kept moving around, making me lose track, infuriating me to no end. I had been awake for almost thirty hours and sleep was no closer than it had been twenty-nine hours ago. Even my imagination wouldn't collaborate in sending me into unconsciousness. Goddamn sheep.
Sheep and sleep were two very similar words, I decided. I instantly sought to catalog all the words that rhymed with sleep. Bleep, steep, reap, peep, seep, weep, beep, keep, jeep. Meryl Streep.
The original verb still eluded me. It would be a long night (and day).
I had done this so many times before. I had done this so often that it simply felt mechanical now. Everytime, we would walk up to each other say hello, and sit down in our desks. And ever day I felt powerless to do anything about the ache in my heart. But I did know what was causing the ache. It was caused by the fact that, although we were so close to one another every single day and although we spoke every single day, it never went any further. I wanted him to hold me and to tell me...