ariel4thou
I couldn't begin to explain what had happened. One minute we were driving down the road, the next I was in the hospital. The walls were blue, and the sunlight was bright. And everything else was white.
He hungered for the gold. Surely, surely, this next site would prove worthy of a claim. He couldn't stop himself.
We walked together down the dusty road. He carried the two-year old, I carried the infant. We were starving. How had it come to this?
Snow blindness. Everywhere we looked we saw white. Even the cloud covered sky was a dirty white. There wasn't even respite when we closed our eyes, for the memory of the white lingered.
fried deep fat the things you can fry bacon potatoes
brains
his brains were fried. he took too many drugs. it was so sad, in retrospect. but at the time, it seemed funny. how differently we look at things when we become old.
They say I was born with asthma. But it was gone by the time I was two. I don't think people are "born" with asthma that just goes away. I think someone got something wrong. But I think the most interesting fact about this is that I remember, back before 1960, that the doctor used to come to our house to examine me. Yes, he made house call.
I always thought my family was dysfunctional ... which it is ... and that that was unusual ... which it isn't. Sure, I come from a low socioeconomic background, but when I rose up that ladder and met new families, it turned out that the only real difference was money. Dysfunction? Abounds everywhere.
I worked in a book binding factory one summer. The job amounted to serving gigantic, rhythmic machines. We'd put the "forms" of printed material into the machines, and then we'd take the completed books off. It was grueling work, but I tried to make it more interesting by finding a rhythm that fit with a musical piece I was familiar with.