Running with Scissors
An e-journal documenting modern culture as it manifests on
or near that hot spot on the surrealistic powergrid known as Spokane, WA
and/or the known or unknown universe
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Read Issues Past
La Busca Homepage
The Three Fates
Yuma Desert Winter
Me: I'm not sure.
Billy: What's the doctor writing in that book?
Me: I don't know, Billy.
Billy: What's that machine do?
Me: Beats me...But keep asking questions, kid; it's how you learn.
A new company called "Primal Goo," or "Prehistoric Pooh," or something like that, just sent out the following news release:For immediate release:
Stik Mann’s OtherSpokane and Panacea for Hirelings presents “Listening to the Lies of Mescalito,” Friday, June 7 at Art by Yourself, 122 S. Monroe.
And yes, I will be temporarily ending my self-imposed exile from the Lilac City to attend the above event. I hope to meet many of my faithful readers who know me only by my e-persona. Look for me at precisely 7:15 p.m., making a grand entrance in my psychedelically-painted, stretch limo, accompanied by my dates, Q-6 news personality Dave Cotton's congenital love (child)ren, Chill and Daisy.
Drop me an
e-line and let me know if you can make it.
I just started a company called Primordial Ooze Productions. I'm fairly proud of this creation, to which family and friends will readily attest.
I'm not exactly
sure what it is that I'm going to produce; but, when I am sure, here's the
logo. (The illustration is from one of my paintings, Adam
#2, which will also be included in the show.)
And, on a serious note:
Since we last met, both ends of the emotional spectrum -- great sadness and immeasurable joy -- has been experienced by your humble narrator.
Firstly, I am pained to report the passing of my dear, sweet Aunt Geraldine.
I shall remember her as I saw her last – full of life, with bright eyes and an uplifting attitude, talking proudly about her granddaughter, Brook, and very much in love with her husband, Max. She both laughed and sighed as she spoke, sharing warm memories of my grandparents.
Selfless and hardworking, she faced loss and hardship with a dignity and grace unbecoming most of humanity -- if only I had a fraction of her strength.
She is a part of my very first memory: Three faces, all smiling and radiating love, all young and beautiful like angels – my mother, my Aunt Joanne, and my Aunt Geraldine – all looking down upon me, a mere babe in my crib.
And secondly, on the opposite extreme, I am overjoyed to announce the birth of Isabella Kay, grandchild number three.
I held her in my two hands. She was just hours old. She opened her eyes; and, as God is my witness, my dear and faithful readers, I saw in her eyes the eyes of my Aunt Geraldine, the eyes of my Grandma and my Grandpa, of my Uncle Dal who I hadn't thought of in years, of my Grandma Gert, as well as the eyes of those who died before I could know them: my father, my Grandpa Jack. And behind those eyes I saw the eyes of others, ancestors of whom I have no knowledge whatsoever.
It was their blood, and my blood, that flowed through the tiny being in my hands. I held her up before me like a priest with a sacred offering.
I could feel in my fingertips the rapid beating of her little heart.
Next Issue: News of the artsy-fartsy shindig.
Please read the OtherSpokane DISCLAIMER