RichEisbrouch
-
Posts
1,894 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Forums
Stories
- Stories
- Story Series
- Story Worlds
- Story Collections
- Story Chapters
- Chapter Comments
- Story Reviews
- Story Comments
- Stories Edited
- Stories Beta'd
Blogs
Store
Help Center
Writing
Gallery
Events
Everything posted by RichEisbrouch
-
Or else we're all getting warped to see the world that way.
-
Everyone can achieve new goals which ironic which will give slumpy world. It is important to determine whether or not the resident is experiencing an ongoing leak. Running a mile in only four minutes is a big deal and something which cannot be done in a given span of time. People make an observation on chicken and find whenever we drop the chicken from a high latitude, it doesn't move its head. Luckily, Christopher Columbus found North America, where he also found Native American
-
A preppy looking guy in his early forties walks up to a less fortunate man his age lying on his back, his arms stretched wide, on a blanket spread in a shady corner of an otherwise sunny parking lot. The preppy guy asks,”How much do you want to show me your dick?” “I’m not gonna show you my dick.” “That wasn’t my question. How much do you want?” “I’m not gonna show you my dick.” “How much? Five bucks? Ten? Twenty? Twenty-five? Fifty. A hundred? Two hundred? Five hundred?”
-
That's great. That's what they're here for. And it doesn't hurt the well-intentioned students who tried to express their thoughts clearly.
-
This research is escrewed. This conclusion is purfunty. To prey on the nativity of people. Their profits are likely to dimish. The university students and faulty. The area is populated by massive immigrants. Eventually, I fall back in a vicious smile. We are a sand in the glass hour of the University. This is unreasonable, and there are several reasons. Understanding is a mosh posh of many differences. They threw slander at his name and drug it in the dirt
-
Thanks. One of the side delights of teaching.
-
Road Rash. Nobody is born daft. Change is thought revoking. I will expend my thesis. I have encroached on my career. This has a savior rate of 98%. To earring is human. Socialigists. Listeningship. Thoguht provoking Prerequest courses. Ancient and mordent widsom. Taking the proverbal view. A Normal Rockwell painting. He refused to cowtail to politics. Right out of the bat. Increased accedents rats. My confront zone. Earky mi
-
Again, as I said just above, that's great. Thank you for reading. It's been great fun following this gang along.
-
Thank you. Makes me happy that you're happy with it. Take care.
-
This is kind of a missing chapter. Or little parts of the story all along. Feelings I’ve always kept to myself. Maybe they should have been in there all along. Or maybe some things I think and know now weren’t even formed. I may only believe they were because they’ve become so ordinary. And I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, especially Mary’s. I expect any family members – or friends – would have said, “You could’ve told me that years ago. It wouldn’t have changed a thing.” But the
-
Thanks. It's not quite done yet. Next week.
-
Tony, see the warning just above. That's why I kept the chapters short. Soon you're feel like a a teacher again and start reaching for your red pencil.
-
Thanks, Tony. This story has been great fun to chronicle. I really feel like I'm visiting friends and just trying to get down the things they say. And, yeah: one more chapter, then I'll go back and read from the beginning, because I know there are inconsistencies. I reread everything I'd written when I started to post the book in October. But that was only through chapter 16. Part of the point of putting myself on deadline was to coax myself to finish -- it would have been embarrassing if I'd broken a weekly promise and left readers hanging. So in many ways, thanks to all of you for the steady encouragement.
-
The war, of course, changed everything. We all enlisted, even if we didn’t have to. “You’re a doctor,” the Army sergeant told me. “And you’re nearly forty, and you have three kids. You have to register, but you don’t have to go.” “Actually, I do.” He just looked at me. “Well, at least they won’t put you on the front lines. You’re too valuable for that.” And so were the rest of the guys. By the time the war began, they were thirty, Al and Spence were lawyers, Mike and Larry ha
-
Mary and I thought Claire and Spence might eventually get together. But they sure took their time getting around to it. Meanwhile, Al and Gina moved ahead. “We’re not exactly certain when,” Gina confided in Mary and me one night at Jenkinson’s. Everyone else was dancing or searching for food. “You know how busy Al is, with work and school. And we’re amazed how much we’ve been able to see each other this summer.” To make that easier, she was working at one of the hotel restaurants, and Al
-
Yeah, that would be a question. But it's so obvious that it doesn't take much to stay ahead of me. And I just need to change one quick thing in this chapter: I didn't mean for Claire's brother to seem unfocused and spoiled. I'll fix that after I finish writing this. Again, thanks.
-
As it happened, Spence’s new job worked out. In fact, the better Claire’s father got to know him, the more comfortable her dad was with shifting some of his work to Claire and Spence. Spence told Mary and me about it one Friday night. “He’s usually pretty quiet – very private – at least around Claire and me. But we’ve both seen him relaxed and joking with his friends. Then the other night, when Claire needed to leave before he and I did, and after we’d finished some long, boring paperwork, h
-
Yep, it's a reaction to the negative world that other writers seem to find so attractive and dramatic. The playwright Lanford Wilson said, "Write joyously," and I've tried to follow his advice. I don't see a lot of reasons to write about people I don't like, even if I can get laughs out of that. Again, thanks.
-
After my office was set up, and Mary and I had been working out of there for a couple of weeks, my father seemed to reconsider how he and Mom had arranged their mainly private floor. “We put our bedroom at the back,” he told me, “because it’s quieter and overlooks the garden. And our sitting room’s next to that, not that we use it much. We’d rather spend time with you, Mary, and the baby on the main floor.” “And Spence.” “And Spence,” Dad agreed, smiling. “My new half-son-in-law.”
-
Thanks. I kind of love this whole group of people, too, and I sometimes forget this isn't non-fiction, and I'm not just the reporter. As for your question: I've known people like this my entire life, or I wouldn't be able to write about them so easily. So I think that, yes, true commitment and mutual respect exist and always have. Again, thanks both for reading and for your thoughts.
-
Maybe a month after Spence had been eating weekday dinners with us, one night after he’d gone back to the brownstone, and Mary and my dad were listening to the radio in the living room, my mother and I were drying dishes in the kitchen. Suddenly, she asked, “Is Spence Ann’s father?” Instinctively, I said, “Yes.” I knew better than to lie to my mother, except on the tiniest details. “Wouldn’t he marry her?” she went on. “That doesn’t seem like him.” “It isn’t. But Mary didn’t give him
-
The chapters are on their usual Friday schedule, so you'll have to be as patient as you normally are. Though there's a slightly shorter revision of this chapter that will replace this one sooner. Upon rereading, I found I was indulging my previous career as a designer and spending too much time writing about architecture and not enough about people. But I have to set the revision aside for another day, so I can reread it to make sure I haven't trimmed too much. In any case, again, thanks.
-
Work on the brownstone started almost immediately, near the end of October, and it began with a general clean out. Mom and Dad would go from room to room, saying, “That goes,” “That stays,” “That needs to be burned,” or “That needs to be burned right now!” Or sometimes, “Did my husband – or wife – really say that should be thrown away? Let me talk with him – or her.” My father had more time to supervise, since Mom had to be in a classroom five days a week, from early in the morning to late a
-
You’re welcome. As I’ve said before, this story’s been a long time coming, starting with that series of photos I found in an antique store in 1988-or-so, and I didn’t think the story was going to go the way it has. But it was always going to be set in 1932, and even though I didn’t live then, I heard a lot about those times from my parents and grandparents. So a lot of that has drifted into the story, and it’s fun to remember, imagine, and research how all the pieces go together. Glad you’re enjoying it.
-
Again, thanks. I've just made a handful of corrections in the last few pages -- maybe the last quarter. Tiny changes, but I think they help. This was almost immediately after I put it online. Only four people had read it.
