The FitnessGram Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues.
Our class lines up at the end of the court. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. It’s that time of the year, again. I passed the stretching test handily––I like to tie my shoes standing up. Chin-ups and pull-ups I flunked, but it doesn’t matter. These results are for the state, not for a grade.
Continue reading “When Every Breath is a Blade”
After much madness here, poor vision, medical visits, bulb switching and light removal/replacements, securing the slanted rays of sun over my shoulder allowing those uses to spill across “Miles‘” pages, and a mind that neither attends reading for long stretches as it used to nor retains what it once was capable of, I have finally finished the reading of a fascinating book. “Mile’s” captivated me, the characters, the language, the new arc of a different story, another story and drama between people, but an arc having the same beginning and the same ending as many other arcs of my reading … life, lives, loves on the very planet, and resounding in daily sight.
Continue reading “Bill Adam’s Book, “Miles” (With Shan’t” (Shall not) by Tom Sheehan”
The Caramel Apple Orchard
Although I will probably have another Saturday post closer to Halloween, it is on my mind now. And since all my other current ideas have the charm of razor bladed apples, I will go with the cheerier topic.
When I was growing up Halloween was mainly for kids, but over the years it has been taken over by The Failure to Launch Generation. I was one of those children who put next to no effort into a costume. I was goods oriented; people were giving out candy no matter how shoddy I looked. So I’d get one of those cheap witch masks (the kind that always got sweaty and smelled like a runny nose after about a half hour of wearing), don a dark blanket for a cape and carry a whisk broom, which inevitably went missing early. The sack was the important thing. And I took the biggest one I could find–usually a pillow case.
Continue reading “Week 450: Halloween Memories and Horror Heroes”
“Your mother’s batshit crazy,” said Sister Loretta
“Madam’s not from the Valley, poor dear,” explained Sister Carmel. “That’s the problem. Your mother’s not grounded like we are. My family has lived here forever.”
Sister Carmel selected a cupcake from my tray. She pointed the cupcake at an ancient and rudimentary clock, one of a dozen in the room where the sisters were awaiting their assignations with that evening’s clients.
Continue reading “Stopped Watch by Scott Pomfret”
And I’ve swallowed the pill only to have my friends bail and so I walk the streets alone.
I am a streetwalker.
I come across a hostel bar … backpackers, ‘Fuck it,’ I think ‘They’ll be up for a yarn.’
There is a staircase leading upward and so I climb and enter a bar full of chatter in a multitude of accents.
Continue reading “At My Feet by Michael Tyler”
It was her father who first showed her. If you pointed your arms straight at two very distant points, features in the landscape, or clouds, or stars, you made yourself the centre of the universe. Everything was drawn into you, you were the fundamental point of a triangle, whose hypotenuse, a funny word at first but easy to remember once you had said it two or three times, could shift between any pair of objects, the sun and the moon, two trees, the chimney on top of the neighbours’ roof and the tv aerial on the top of her parents’ house, any two things, anywhere. It really didn’t matter, it was still a triangle, because of the one fixed point, and the two others.
Continue reading “A Call To Arms by Julian Walker”
Jane Houghton has been with the site for a long time now. Her work is always a delight and beautifully written. If you haven’t seen any of her stuff up to now just type her name into the search field and anything you choose will be a treat. her first piece – Walk on By will lead you to others in her catalogue.
Continue reading “Sunday Whoever”
Prelude: Native American legend has it that the Pascagoula tribe preferred death by drowning to lives of enslavement by their enemies. According to one “mist of time” story, men, women, and children were heard chanting to their ancestors while walking en masse into this Mississippi coastal river. Receptive listeners, recreating on these waters, have long reported phantom music. In 1985, historians successfully lobbied for a name change, from the Pascagoula to the Singing River.
Continue reading “The Night the River Sang by Claire Massey”
Okay, strap in. Today is the turn of our beloved editor. Hugh Cron. Hugh is a founder member of the site and has worked incredibly hard over the years keeping it together in spite of personal and professional challenges. His Saturday posts are legendary and his cannon of writing extensive and diverse. So, who is Hugh:
Continue reading “Sunday Whoever”
Now that it is officially autumn, Andy and Alfie the Feral Cats are bulking up for winter. Well, actually only Andy, because Alfie is already beefy as it is. He’s a rarity, a Feral Cat who has a double chin. Andy, however, changes his body type with the season. During the warm months he sheds his long coat and becomes lean and ripples with muscles. Come September he begins eating twice his normal amount and by the time November rolls around he looks like a fuzzy Tapir.
Continue reading “WEEK 448- Bulking Up; Another Fine Week; Annoying TV Characters”
literally stories 