Jacob Lawrence, The Life of John Brown No 19.
Sunday, October 16, 1859, John Brown with a company of 21 men, white and black, marched
on Harper's Ferry. (1941)
Workbook: October, 2003
- October 31, 2003: Gray sand beach.
- October 30, 2003: Love is a disease.
- October 29, 2003: Handsome man, tall, athlete's frame, young-looking at fifty.
- October 28, 2003: Her marvelous playfulness.
- October 27, 2003: The houses in the canyon have hillsides for back yards.
- October 26, 2003: "I feel I frighten people when I gush."
- October 25, 2003: It never stops.
- October 24, 2003: Every evening she came home with a chocolate cake under her arm from Eppler's on Market Street.
- October 23, 2003: Don't despair, not even over the fact that you don't despair.
- October 22, 2003: Her photo in a wooden frame, outdoor table at Casa de Bandini...
- October 21, 2003: His songs have a characteristic lilting rhythm which I find intriguing, and immediately identifiable.
- October 20, 2003: "No power!", he says, laughing, throwing his hands up.
- October 19, 2003: Familiar voice. Maybe a little nervous, maybe a little tired.
- October 18, 2003: While I'm telling true stories, here's another I like very much.
- October 17, 2003: Here's a true story that I like very much.
- October 16, 2003: "Thank you," she said, although in all honesty it hadn't been much.
- October 15, 2003: Why do I babble when I write to her?
- October 14, 2003: Her picture in a blue frame, on top of the cd player, appropriately.
- October 13, 2003: Her picture with her mother.
- October 12, 2003: "Who's the cutie?"
- October 11, 2003: The first thing I saw after waking up in heaven was an ad for an accident attorney.
- October 10, 2003: As I lost consciousness I heard for some reason the tinkling sound of the song the ice cream trucks played, on summer days in childhood.
- October 9, 2003: She was so scared she could barely steer.
- October 8, 2003: Smoke. Black, gray, white.
- October 7, 2003: White sand beach beneath an otherworldly canopy of vibrant blue and gold and purple stars.
- October 6, 2003: Her picture on the rug in my friends' living room.
- October 5, 2003: I feel as though some uninvited stranger has been rummaging my drawers of underwear.
- October 4, 2003: His picture in my old room in Clairemont.
- October 3, 2003: City busses, subway trains. Motion and mass.
- October 2, 2003: Her picture with her sister.
- October 1, 2003: She said, "I don't like this... I don't like this."
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© 2002-2013 Mark Phillips.
All rights reserved.
This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.