March 29, 2011 in death
Whenever the calendar turns to spring, my thoughts turn to Steve. In June of 2008, my friend died in a five-car pileup on Highway 1. His car was struck head-on by a drunk driver. He died at the scene, and although his girlfriend, Cindy, made it out alive and can walk again, there are scars. Very deep scars.
by Lily Blue
January 16, 2011 in Wordsmoker Poetry
By 911
you were already gone
and I was learning how to live alone.
Dad had died that June
and when the towers came down
I thought I too might crumble into poison dust and
swirl away into the frigid river or the Brooklyn sky.
by Senor Wences
January 5, 2011 in The Fanciness of Bodies
It’s like that Mister Rogers bootleg video some buddies of mine had back in high school. They thought it was hilarious, but it just made me sad and anxious and nervous.
That episode where they replaced the Henrietta Pussycat puppet with a mummified human hand. Nobody at PBS noticed at first, and it ran in reruns for awhile until they pulled it and erased all mention from the syndication catalogue. It was one of the Planet Purple episodes, with Purple Panda talking to this mummified hand about how lying makes your friends feel bad and complicates matters. Read the rest of this entry →
by Anna
October 17, 2010 in death, Life
I found out the other day that my uncle Tim (not his real name) is dying of cancer. Tim lives out in a very remote area of Colorado, because that is far away from Vermont, I have not gotten to see Tim nearly as much as I wish I could. Tim the one extended relative that I have always felt very close to. He’s suffered from mental health issues for much of his adult life, which is why I think I have identified with him more than any of my other uncles and aunts.
July 6, 2010 in The Teenage Poetry Of Timothy Chapstick
Goodbye, to you
Grand Ayatollah Mohammed Hussein Fadlallah
as you have died
at the age of 74.
Shia Muslims,
many of them
(if not all)
are mourning your passing
as you were revered
for bridging religious divides,
like a bridge over
a big river
or maybe
a chasm.
by Anna
November 23, 2009 in Beauty, Different Places, Humanwatching
People die everyday. Babies are born everyday. Life leaves and life enters this world on a daily basis. When someone dies in New York City, Chicago, LA, Boston, etc., not many people notice aside from the family members and loved ones of the deceased – unless of course the deceased is a high profile person. But when someone dies in Maple Corner, Calais, Vermont (population of under 100 people, in my estimation) everyone notices.
June 26, 2009 in Celebrity, death
The corpse of the icon is still warm and his death was somehow broken to the public by a hugely-popular blog that most folks don’t admit to reading and I’m guessing the Twitterati are in full-flow now and oh fuck it’s all over Facebook and some hate and some love and some RIP’s and some Likes! and so what if UrifuckingGeller is on the TV in the UK all day now forever.
Yes. Michael Jackson has died. He is dead.
February 26, 2009 in Wordsmoker Short Fiction
I am not the commonplace inquisitor you thought was coming.
They told you they would send the Tall One. They have no belief system. This is why they sent me.
I sense some hostility towards me and that is okay. I am alright with that.
by berightback
January 7, 2009 in Big In Japan
Over the recent winter break, I had occasion to re-watch one of my favorite Japanese movies, Summer Vacation 1999. Wracked with anxieties about achievement, maturity, and mortality that always seem to descend as one attempts to represent the life one has led during the last year to one’s extended family, I found myself enchanted once more by the movie’s peculiar, self-contained universe founded on carefully suspended temporality and an airless yearning that seems to replace the very air the characters breath within the film’s gauzy, stylized frames.
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