I’m leaving this little blog shortly, maybe within the coming months. I’m slowly moving my archive off this site which has been the home for my imagination for over ten years. I’m joining the migration to Substack: https://substack.com/@theedgesofthings If you have a profile, I’d love to connect. I’ve found the platform more conducive to my … More Adieu to You
I brought him home in a taped-up box. I wasn’t planning on taking the old cat. I had visited many times before and this was supposed to be just another play date. Something clicked somewhere, like he told me to do it. His meowing kept my heart rate up on the drive. I kept telling … More Charlie
I thought the world would stop for me. I thought I would live longer than the corporations I saw the birth of. I thought we were going to change it all. But nothing changed, even though everything did. It was selfish, self-centered and narcissistic of me. Deep down in our spleen, we all are. Music … More Pluto
Bernie’s Bungalow is for sale. The owner, I suppose, is moving on. The family has faced their fair share of challenges. When I was a young man, and mine and Anna’s friend group was an ocean wide and a bathtub thick, it was our party central. Many a weekend we spent drinking, smoking hookah, acting … More The Bungalow
My friend is an old Vietnam veteran. He’s told me a few stories about it. But like most vets he keeps most of the stories close to his chest I think. He has lived a rich life of travel, adventure, and intrigue. He’s explored jungles and deserts, mountains and oceans. Indeed, his war years are … More All Quiet…
This piece has adult content in it. It’s a long piece comparative to what I usually post, by almost triple. It’s firmly a novelette. It will take time to read. I resisted the temptation to split it into two pieces. The piece only really works as one. It’s a prequel to the story I wrote … More When the Fog Settles
When the rains came heavy the sea would turn a tumultuous gray. It would raise up and twist itself as it tried to bring the boat into itself and there would be a little bit of fear in men. But unless it became very bad and the sea became very greedy against the boat the … More Sjøen
The first man I met from America was so obviously an American. He spoke with a southern drawl, a mountainous gut from good living and a Harley Davidson shirt. He used to be in the military. Some kind of radioman I think. He was called Jesse. But his Italian, Ohmygod, his Italian. The best, better … More Alba Sulla Montagna Part 2
Some time ago, my partner and I spent much time back in the country of her ancestors: Italy. As we combed through records and bounced around government offices and communal cemeteries, I had an epiphany of sorts. I sat down and wrote them out. I do wonder if Anna’s ancestors would ever have imagined that … More Memento Mori
I worked with two men in construction for a while. As it usually goes with these types of rough men, their transformation into builders has a reason. I generally try to find that. Little clues into their life are splattered here and there. It just takes the right key, and the lock springs open. This … More The Gift of Normalcy
Storied By Josh 