Category: sunday whatever

All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever: Eleonora and Poe by Dale Williams Barrigar

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“ERNEST. From the soul?

GILBERT. Yes, from the soul. That is what the highest          criticism really is, the record of one’s own soul.”

Oscar Wilde, “The Critic as Artist”

“Under the preservation of a specific form, my soul is safe.”
Raymond Llull

Edgar Allan Poe was the kind of individual who could fall in love with a woman after seeing her for a mere few moments, or less, on the street. Dante had this feeling when he first saw Beatrice, and her later early demise compelled him to take twelve years out to compose the greatest single literary work of the Western World, a poem that still helps to define what the afterlife is (in our imaginations) eight centuries after he finished it. (And he died almost immediately after finishing it.) 

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All Stories, General Fiction, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever: The Decoration by Tom Sheehan

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Regular visitors to the site will be aware of Tom. He has had more stories published than any other author. Much of his work is republished writing but though he is now in his 97th year and struggling with vision loss he is still submitting new work. This is his latest submission to Literally Stories. Proof if it were needed that the soul of the writer burns brightly regardless of the passing years.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever: Fame; or The Queen of Crucifixion by Dale Williams Barrigar

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Prologue

Hello. The target audience for this humanly-written, essayistic mind, heart and soul exploration is: poets; creative writers; writers; artists and “creatives” of all stripes; spiritual people; people interested in history, and the future; anyone interested in any or all of the above.

If you can’t jive with that, this writing isn’t for you.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – “M” T-shirts No Longer Fit Me to a T by Elliot Wilner

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Two of the drawers in my bedroom dresser are packed full with colorful T-shirts,  about fifty T-shirts in total, and I cherish them all.  Each shirt tells a story: the date and the distance of a particular road race – an 8k, a 10k or a 10 miler – that I had once run, together with the names and logos of the race sponsors.  Of the fifty shirts, about forty have found eternal repose in my dresser drawers, never removed from the drawer, never worn.  Those are the ones labeled with a “M.”  The other ten, those labeled with an “L,” I do wear on occasion.     

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – The Shoes Made of Soil by Georgia Xanthopoulou

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This was one of those pieces that we knew we should publish but it crossed a couple of genres. Fiction, essay and translation. So where better than a special Sunday spot. Ladies and Gents – we give you :-

The Shoes Made of Soil by Georgia Xanthopoulou

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – House Rent Boogie – An essay by Dale Williams Barrigar

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Like all great story-telling, John Lee Hooker’s “House Rent Boogie” can make you feel much better about yourself, if you’re willing to meet Hooker half way. In a country filled more and more with what Noam Chomsky calls the “precariat,” or economically disadvantaged folks who live paycheck to paycheck, dwelling to dwelling, meal to meal, buzz to buzz, never knowing, as Henry Miller put it, when the chair will be yanked out from under their rear ends, and they will be tossed out into the street again, Hooker’s “House Rent Boogie,” also known as “House Rent Blues,” can offer solace and encouragement to many of us. This kind of story-telling shows what story-telling is really for, which is helping the human species to make its way in this world while we struggle to survive our allotment of days here on the rapidly warming earth.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – Leila and the Mimeo Revolution  by Dale Williams Barrigar

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I’m standing in Euclid Square Park as I write this with an orange pen on repurposed paper (probably an angry, unpaid bill). (Later it will be typed).

I’m standing next to a small tree.

Tied to the tree are three dogs who I helped rescue, and who rescued me: Bandit, Boo and Colonel.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever: Roughing It by Dale Williams Barrigar

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Roughing It Dale Williams Barrigar

From the ages of twelve until sixteen, I was raised on the banks of the Mississippi River.

I first got truly intoxicated via alcohol on the banks of the river. (Alcohol would later become a major passion, until I had to give it up.)

I first tasted cigarettes on the banks of the river. (Same.)

I first tasted the sacred ganja (weed), too, on the banks of the Mississippi River. (Also a major passion, not given up so far as of this writing, except in the smoking form; medical edibles are stronger and more long-lasting anyway…)

I first held the hand of a girl on the banks of the river.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – John the Revelator by Dale Williams Barrigar

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John Lennon in his Pickwick glasses is like a character from a Charles Dickens novel, or much like Dickens himself in his concern for social justice and his endless sympathy for the literal, and figurative, orphan, outsider, and underdog. Lennon can also fruitfully be compared to perhaps the only other English writer of the nineteenth century who rivals Dickens in staying power and popularity. Like Lewis Carroll and his beloved, living Alice, Lennon’s life was all about expanding the mind, and through the mind, the heart.

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All Stories, sunday whatever

Sunday Whatever – Moanin’ at Midnight Dale Williams Barrigar

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This piece is a bit different and as we have come to expect from Dale it is fascinating and well informed. I had never heard of this piece of music but my instant reaction after reading this was to find it on Youtube and I can see exactly what the writer was saying. So here we have:

  Moanin’ at Midnight Dale Williams Barrigar

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