Spitball Army

Lists! And none of them are in ranked order. Also, none of the lists include the couple of handfuls of things that I forgot. Here goes: My favorite music of 2010 (the source material for this coming Sunday’s playlist): Mandelring Quartett / Schumann: Piano Quintet Josh Rouse / El Turista I disliked this album at first, […]

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Eight hours of continuous highway driving. Despite the companionship of some high-energy music, I arrive at my destination with gas-pedal eyes.

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We’re going bowling this afternoon. I’m on the ward team this week. We (the 43 Cripples) are bowling “The 102 Plastics.”

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The last sight leaving Alabama on I-20: a quaint red barn. The first sight upon entering Alabama: a run-down lean-to, peeling red paint, near collapse.

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Card is titled: “The Western Staircase, State Captiol, Albany, N.Y.”

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The toy gun from a Tijuana cart gets its cork removed on the long ride home. He sits behind Mom in the car, taunting: “Pop! Pop!”

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I would still like to see some of New York and Niagara Falls. We could arrange it if you would come up here.

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The front of the queue is beyond his sight. He pulls the parka tighter, focusing on the steam rising from the bald head before him.

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The ceiling fan rocks audibly in the dark, paddling a slight breeze. He wakes in the dark, disoriented, thinking a window is open, hearing a dishwasher.

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