Tag Archives: Halloween

The Famous Golden Larch

I don’t know what it is about me and hats, but I keep losing mine. There was the green Irish cap I got in a small, West Cork town: I wrote the name inside the rim (SKIBBEREEN 12-15) to mark … Continue reading

Posted in identity, Memoir, musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

The first square

It was a strange night. Lily dressed up like Audrey Hepburn, with the gloves and the dress and the pearls, a cigarette holder, and Dawn put her hair up in a bun—and while I was at work I realized she’d … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

A bad ear

Happy Halloween from pinklightsabre.com, and thanks for reading! Thanks to Kevin Brennan at WHAT THE HELL and Indie-Scribable for the mask inspiration. Bill This post provisionally titled, “The Very Strange Way In Which Life Leads You Down A Corridor To … Continue reading

Posted in humor | Tagged , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

On the dead

Every other Saturday the gardeners come, but I will never know all their names. They are in the back now blowing out leaves, tearing out the dead, raking up beds, making it all go away— But the next morning the … Continue reading

Posted in death, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 19 Comments

The blood in my dad’s beard

The blood in my dad’s beard hardly looked real, more red-orange than ruddy, almost clown-like, but terrifying when he stretched his neck tendons and tightened his jaw, his eyes rolling like an animal in distress to show a lot of … Continue reading

Posted in musings, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Trick-or-treating in the Scottish Highlands

The first thing you need to know about trick-or-treating in Scotland is it’s not called trick-or-treating, it’s called guising. And you don’t get it for free just by waving your bags out, you have to sing a tune or recite … Continue reading

Posted in humor, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

A ribbon of darkness all the way

There are prehistoric smells in my mom’s laundry area where the drain water from the washer sometimes gathers and the floor’s a stark grey stone material, a peat bog of sphagnum moss collapsing in on itself, which makes a fine … Continue reading

Posted in death | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments