el primero in what is to be a veritable plethorific collection of spine-tingling, booty-shake-inducing, truly astounding bloggery (that is correct, i make up words).

now that i have tired you with superlatives, i find myself in an uncomfortable, untenable position, i confess that am afflicted with a horrible case of creative constipation…

so… what follows will be an excerpt of some short story i wrote many years ago, in my oh so callow youth. it’s like watching paint dry. enjoy.

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Slowly, she worked her way around the five-by-nine meter enclosure, picking up one leaf at a time. She still did not understand why she was to pick only one at a time; but she knew that in tending to the garden his way, he would be happy. She placed the last leaf atop the small pile of its like she had made in the southeast corner of the garden. Brushing the sand off her feet, she went into the house, and returned with an empty rice bag. After gathering the leaves into the sack, she placed it next to the sandal rack, opposite from the rake. She then proceeded to inspect the tops of each stone, starting with the closest. A light sheen of frost coated the moss, and her fingertips grew a sullen red as she fastidiously picked away. Her hands were numb by the time she reached the little stone in the farthest corner. It’s okay little one. You are my favorite. I won’t forget you. She knelt down to tend to the last stone, softly cracking the thin sheet of ice and tenderly brushing the pieces off. She then inspected the moss to see if any weeds had set their roots. None. Step four, rake parallel lines across the whole sea of sand, and then rake around the formations of stones to create the ripples. She went across the garden and picked up the rake.

By the time she finished, her shivering had become nearly uncontrollable. The muscles of her jaws pulsed in silent reproach and her nose ran incessantly interrupted only by intermittent decorous sniffling. She reached down, brushed the soles of her feet before entering the house – gently sliding the door close behind her.

-excerpt from “White Envelope in the Lower Right Drawer”