There is not a Friday that passes when Gloria Agatha Gillis doesn’t ride her bicycle to the Bun of Your Business Bakery at the corner of North Park and Ninth in the Village of Column Square, and there isn’t a Friday when Aleister Motts doesn’t watch her—secretly, though quite visibly—from the vantage of a tall second story window opposite the narrow street. She leans her red bicycle tenderly against the stalk of a naked oak tree, making delicate adjustments to the handlebars as it starts to ...

There is not a Friday that passes when Gloria Agatha Gillis doesn’t ride her bicycle to the Bun of Your Business Bakery at the corner of North Park and Ninth in the Village of Column Square, and there isn’t a Friday when Aleister Motts doesn’t watch her—secretly, though quite visibly—from the vantage of a tall second story window opposite the narrow street. She leans her red bicycle tenderly against the stalk of a naked oak tree, making delicate adjustments to the handlebars as it starts to ...

I have an idea I just don't remember what it is I meant to write it down But it was lost before I found the pen So here I sit In hopes it shall arrive again I have an idea I just don't remember what it is

There is not a Friday that passes when Gloria Agatha Gillis doesn't ride her bicycle to the Bun of Your Business Bakery at the corner of North Park and Ninth in the Village of Column Square, and there isn't a Friday when Aleister Motts doesn't watch her——secretly, though quite visibly——from the vantage of a tall second story window opposite the narrow street. She leans her red bicycle tenderly against the stalk of a naked oak tree, making delicate adjustments to the handlebars as it starts t...

I knew it had been a mistake– rather, I desperately hoped: returning home. Previous visits had trained me to the custom of a more celebratory welcoming. My arrival was by no stretch a funeral, but my heart had secretly hoped for a parade. This narcissistic impracticality could have easily led me down a yet another winding path of despair, but I found it easier to simply appreciate my more modest and practical tokens: a place to live, a night of free drinks, and above all else– pity, for whic...

*Serendipity:* The really hot guy with the cold-sore is at the cafe reading when the really hot girl with the cold-sore walks in. Their eyes meet. *Romance:* The really hot guy with the cold-sore takes the really hot girl with the cold-sore on a date. At the end of the evening he walks her to her apartment and they kiss passionately, rubbing their cold-sores together. *Foreshadowing:* The really hot girl with the cold-sore is now eight months pregnant with the really hot guy with the cold-sor...

Ten miles northeast of Columbia, Missouri on Route B is a little town called Hallsville. It is not really on the way to anywhere, so many Columbians don't even know it exists. Somewhere in the sparsely populated county between the two towns is a little house on fifteen acres of land. On a nice day you might see some chickens in the yard, or perhaps a horse... or two. And if you are really lucky, in the summer time you might catch a glimpse of me riding on a lawnmower with my shirt off. This i...

When I was sixteen I would get drunk with my friends. I actually still do. Imagine that. Anyway. When you are sixteen years old, buying booze can be a bit of a hassle. At that age, even a fake ID really isn’t feasible. You just don’t look old enough. So, you need to befriend an irresponsible, socially maladjusted pedophile who is over the age of twenty one, and willing to buy booze for kids because he has no friends. In this case, we will call him Jason. Jason had just purchased a sack of for...

(Call Me) It is a riding lawnmower on a July afternoon. I am thinking about a girl who is half a world away and a future that seems even further and less hopeful. Twenty chickens and a fat old hound are my audience as I figure eight between the baby tree and the birdbath. The chickens jump and scatter across the property as I approach with my goggles and spinning blade. In my belly sits a bowl of Mom’s soup and a strong urge to drink. My shoulders are topped with two layers of sun block, two ...

*Third world contraception:* This is an interesting story. Last time I was in Chicago I met a young woman who had been doing some work for the Peace Corps. She was explaining a sex education campaign that they were doing in some African country. Apparently symbolism in other cultures is not as implicit as it is in ours; so as to say, a typical symbolic example would be received in a much more literal way. This is what happened: during the segment on condoms they needed to demonstrate how to p...