Monthly Archives: December 2011

by Hughman C.T. | December 27, 2011

the lost and found

Every kid was rich with wonder and uncertainty. A magic trick I don’t know the trick to! Every person, essentially kids, on that ice rink reached into their private accounts. And hidden in the safety deposit box of a soul was that shiny, tiny bit of visceral vigor of youth they’d presumed washed away with the deluge of adulthood. Continue reading →

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Filed under allegory, poetry, stories

Tagged as ice skating, LA, los angeles people, lost innocence, pershing square

by Hughman C.T. | December 17, 2011

Vater O! Vater

Only when one becomes free of that patriarchal despotism could one learn to appreciate ones own life and tip them 15%. Continue reading →

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Filed under non-fiction rambling, stories

Tagged as avoiding confrontation, deflection defenses, eulogy for a father, henry miller tropic, unorthodox ways of

by Hughman C.T. | December 13, 2011

poetry

I have never liked poetry. period. Don’t misunderstand.

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Filed under poetry

by Hughman C.T. | December 13, 2011

intro to alexandrian condor

The reason Coral meant something, the only reason, was because she wasn’t supposed to be real. She was the modern embodiment of the poetry in prose that was so very absent today. It was strange. She was the last guiding light … Continue reading →

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Filed under stories

Tagged as contented, coral, influence, lueschen, modern prose, robert browning

by Hughman C.T. | December 7, 2011

Commitments

The thing about commitment is that a commitment is a commitment. It does not have an expiration date. Brushing your teeth every morning with your wife or husband for 30 years is a commitment. People who avoid a big commitment … Continue reading →

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Filed under non-fiction metaphor, rhetoric

Tagged as commitments, necessary, time consuming

by Hughman C.T. | December 7, 2011

huzaaaaaaaahh

I’m sure the way I was maimed from childhood was no worse than your getting raped. My parents traveled a lot when I was growing up. They’d leave me with grandma. Oma, I called her. Dutch for grandmother. Too terrified … Continue reading →

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Filed under rhetoric

Tagged as console, cope, god, rape, religion, sad