Unfurnished Business

Call me a minimalist. I like my walls pure of distraction. Having shuttled photographs away, I find new ones as shapes and colors come to me. Blankness especially entertains me. Fridays as a rule require no plushness. Merely clean geometry that bounds an inner truth. Metaphoric rocks protect the area outside. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pale Male

He speaks into video microphone as though it were a nest of mirrors. Throughout his engineering presentation, he drops names, while whining that he cannot make his way through the bureaucracy.  At some point midway through this keynote he says, "standard of deviation" as though this phrase existed. I think he may have absorbed some concepts that morphed into misnomers from a colleague enrolled in statistics classes. A pale male, our keynoter might have passed these classes, but his insecurity keeps showing. He declares he wants to make change. Clearly no one has handed him a bill. 
Read more
He held in mind a video of his reign as the supreme leader of all living and non-living beings with a self-replicating acclaim for his greatness. He ordered a yearly jubilee year of his being crowned the greatest of the great ones, during which marching bands from every corner of the earth would appear in full regalia performing brass, woodwind, and percussion instruments to perfection. No level of expenditure would be enough; each successive annual celebration would exceed all prior extravaganzas. He harped on his deservedness wherever an audience would emerge. When at last he had persuaded a sufficient number of weary listeners to heed his call, the first of many celebrations came to fruition. To his dismay, the musical assemblage consisted of 1,000 flutophones, white plastic flutes the young players could clean with soap and warm water and afford. 
Read more

Murder and Whatnot

She spoke about a wheelbarrow full of unrelated incidents that twisted the town. A tornado, for example, a petty theft, a high school graduation, feathers littering the shelves below the mountaintop. The inhabitants of the burg perspired respective recollections that might unify them but did not. Our narrator perceived notational ingredients, one of which was murder that failed to escape notice. It happened fast enough to leisure past the row of green visors occupying the landscape free of general surprise. Why not offer a glib interpretation in the form of objectivity to twirl a new idea in their midst?
Read more