Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He was comfortable, and she wanted to turn the heat up.
She was going to dance-exercise classes, and he was counting pills.
He was impatient to drive faster, and she thought he should slow down.
She was remarking about the pleasant evening they’d had, and he was complaining about the price of a dinner for two.
Dressed in a long, glossy black skirt, black boots, and a hooded black rain coat, she shuffled in slowly. Her steps made no sounds. A little bent forward, white, with wire rim glasses, she looked straight ahead.
She looks like death, he thought.
Turning, she looked at him, raised a black-gloved finger at him, and smiled. She is death, he realized. The scene changed. Instead of being at a coffee shop table typing on a computer, he was squirming and shaking against the shock of being born.
Great, he thought back in the other moment, guessing that he was going to endure a this-is-your-life montage before dying.
That was probably going to take a while.
He wished he had more coffee.
He didn’t know how this fit into anything.
Completing his manuscript, including revising and editing it, he scoured the net, found a dozen prospective agents, and sent it off to them.
Three weeks later, he hadn’t heard anything from any of them and decided to beat the net to see what was happening with his prospective agents.
Imagine his surprise when they all turned out dead.
Well, he’d always thought it was a killer idea.
After soldiering through the funeral arrangements, he arrived home to the empty house. “Alone at last,” he shouted, throwing his coat down on a chair. Now he would see, now he would learn the truth about all the little things that had became maddening. He would see who it was who always left the lights on, if it was her who didn’t pick up, didn’t clean after herself when she cooked or baked, her who left doors unlocked and wasted heat and energy. Now he would see. He’d always believed it was her and now he would prove it, because now it was only him. And then —
Stopping, he looked around the silent house. Moving slowly, he picked up his coat and hung it up. Then, just for spite, he turned on a light, and left it on.
He repeated something that his wife had told him. “I never said that,” she said before anyone else could speak.
Indignation rose. Yes, you did, he began to say, but considered, maybe he’d heard it wrong. Maybe he was mis-remembering. Or maybe she’d said it wrong. Perhaps she didn’t remember saying it, or the people that told her had told her wrong. Or maybe she’d incorrectly remembered what she’d been told and then told him wrong, but didn’t remember it.
The only way to resolve this would be record and index everything so that he could go back and know exactly what was said.
Yeah, right. Who had time for that?
He smiled. “Sorry. I guess I got it wrong.”
9:35
The temperature was thirty-five F.
Dazzling sunshine streamed in through the windows.
Plans were made.
9:45
Thick, glistening snowflakes tumbled down. Gaining momentum and volume, they soon curtained the landscape and smothered the ground.
10:15
It looked like a blizzard.
Plans were re-arranged.
10:30
Snow no longer fell.
Dripping sounds from melting snow filled the air.
10:35
Little snow covered the ground. Some still covered roofs.
Light gray clouds swarmed across the sky. Sunshine splashed through.
The temperature was thirty-five F.
Plans were re-arranged.
I was watching “Future Man” on Hulu last night. An eHarmony commercial came on. The featured woman said, “I don’t want to waste time with men who aren’t right for me.”
I thought, soon such apps and approaches will expand. What person should I have as a friend? What books should I read, what television shows should I watch, or what movies should I go to?
Apps will tell you which you’re most likely to enjoy, enabling you to avoid wasting time with other people or activities that aren’t right for you.
Sad. You can learn a lot from wasting time with things that aren’t right for you.
You can even have a good time.
Instead, let’s narrow our minds and reduce our bubbles just a little bit more.
“I know you,” he said with a lick to my hand.
“Perhaps not from here, but from another time and land.”
“Yes, I know you, too,” I said to the little whiskered face.
“I’m glad we found each other once after coming to this place.”
So we’re privileged to witness, once more,
the transcendent love between a paw person,
and the human they adore.
he’s an edge without a blade
rain without a cloud
a dance without a song
a steak without a knife
he’s a foot without a leg
a beard without a head
pupils without a face
fat without a bone
he’s an object without shape
sweet without taste
sour without texture
swallowed without chewing
spoken without thought
buried without mourning
morning without light
coffee
without beans
the computerization
fragmentation
digitnation
wants one thing for itself
and another for the rest
keep everything else
just gif me the best
Michael Seidel, writer 