The spruce stood tall, a shadowed cone against the cold and dawning morn, a giant sentinel overlooking the crossroads along my route to work. The bus rocked like a ship in rough seas as it rattled into the intersection, fatigued metal complaining, whirring heater blasting air like a blow-dryer, but as we passed the ancient spruce, above the din, I heard music.
From atop the spruce’s coal-dark spire, the first robin of spring, eyes wide and heart in dire earnest, sang his unmistakable song of spring. To him, it was a song of warning–This is MY tree, mofos, MY tree, ALL mine–but to me his music painted a future of lengthening days and budding groves. In his song I heard the buzz of bees amongst the blossoms, and could smell the green, green scent of new-mown grass.
I continued onward to work, departed my bus at the station and walked through the freezing city where the sun’s first rays lanced in to melt the frost from a thousand glittering windows. Around me was the bleak, chaotic noise of urban life, the only music the beeping of a dump truck set to the percussive beat of early morning construction, but that robin’s song, so high and confident, so filled with simple promise, echoed in my mind.
I hear it still.
k
Last night was a first for me. Last night I did not watch the Oscars.
The team’s PO, PO P. O’Pio, was really PO’d when he found the PO at the PO.
Writers…we often cast ourselves in the lead of our own internal dramas, but rarely does one of our number actually make it to the big screen in a leading role. A couple of examples I’ve seen in recent years are The Words and Wonder Boys, in which Bradley Cooper and Michael Douglas were cast as the “writer.” (Ever notice how writers on-screen look a hell of a lot better than writers in real life?)
The restaurant business is difficult. Long hours, slim profit margins, physically demanding work…you really have to love it, because it requires dedication and toil. It’s also really easy to screw up.
When I was a child, by far the worst verdict my parents could lower upon my head was the dreaded, “We’re very disappointed in you.” Crushing, positively crushing.
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 
Something…Wonderful
25 Feb 2015 by KRAG
Last night, as I was doing my taxes, something wonderful happened. Keep in mind: this is “wonderful” on a small, very personal scale. I did not happen upon the answer to problems in the Middle East or a cure for rampant stupidity. Nor did I find a loophole in the tax code that doubled my refund.
So, that’s what it wasn’t. With your expectations properly lowered, let’s move onward to what it was.
I was filling out Schedule SE (rather pleased that I had enough writing income to warrant its use) when an email came in. It was a message redirected to me from the Contact page here on this blog. I don’t get many direct messages from blog readers, and about half of those I do receive are from people wanting to market their wares via a guest-post on my blog–cheeky bastards–so when it was clear that this message was from a reader and not a self-promoter, it was already a good sign. I opened it, and I read.
In the hyperbolic style of internet memes: What happened next blew my mind. Continue Reading »
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Posted in Culture, Writing | Tagged creative writing, Dragon Magazine, reader comments, short stories, Spencer's Peace, Writing | 4 Comments »