ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Writer and artist living in South Florida [August 2016]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (22) A Thousand Camels (Poetry) A caravan of long ago [173 words] [History] A Treat For Heinke (Short Stories) A girl finds hope during wartime [1,028 words] [Spiritual] A Werewolf? (Short Stories) A man entrances a woman in Miami, or is he a werewolf? [1,492 words] [Mystical] And The Winner Is (Short Stories) A summer camp sports competition has a surprise ending [1,132 words] Down In The Country (Short Stories) The end of the line ain't what it's cracked up to be. [840 words] [Drama] Endangered (Poetry) A love goes bad [45 words] [Romance] Garlic, Ginger And Golden Seal (Short Stories) An old woman's recipe for a long life [1,868 words] [Mystery] Grandma, I Love You (Non-Fiction) Memories of my maternal grandmother [1,027 words] [Biography] How Lizard Lenny Svaed My Life (Short Stories) A woman escapes life under the El thanks to a man called Lizard Lenny [1,255 words] [Relationships] It's About Time (Short Stories) Ups and downs in the world of quantum physics [1,475 words] [Humor] Just Another Joe (Short Stories) A gumshoe takes it as it comes [1,096 words] [Health] Kylie (Short Stories) Success is not always what we think it is. A girl chooses between fame or love. [1,700 words] Magnolia (Short Stories) A young woman finds out what a magnolia smells like [1,208 words] Ode To Wayne Dyer (Poetry) A light roast of self-help books [262 words] [Humor] On Turning Seventy (Essays) A woman ponders the march of time [717 words] [Motivational] Ovidio Gets A Smoke (Short Stories) A party turns sour but Ovidio ends up sittin' pretty. [1,160 words] [Suspense] She Saw It All (Poetry) Statue of Liberty Saw 9-11 [190 words] Teacups And Time (Poetry) A troubled, cold soul finally finds warmth [151 words] [Spiritual] Thank You For Not Sleeping (Short Stories) Thoughts go all over the page during the night [1,257 words] [Mind] The Mysterious Gypsy (Short Stories) Among old photos of Northern people, an exotic gypsy's photo appears. Who is she? [1,457 words] [History] Tom's Moon (Short Stories) A little doll makes a difference [857 words] Too Late For Coffee (Short Stories) An old man's last days with an angel [1,489 words] [Spiritual]
As It Comes Liilia Morrison
"Oh God, my head hurts. I know why I'm hungry. I held out till the first."
Next to the museum, the state of the art library and the fabulous oceanfront palaces is a little apartment building that houses those who never made it in the system and never will. I will call them the others. I am in possession of the diary of one of those people. I don't know who he is or how I ever got hold of it. It is a notebook without covers, pages dog-eared. The writing is cursive and consistent in style, but a little on the wild side. There are some color drawings on some of the pages. Each sentence is a fragment of pain, a fragment of the harsh reality of a man who is in a constant state of crisis. I prefer to believe that the writing of his journal is a big part of keeping him from falling off the edge. There is no way I can toss this diary to the winds. Each word here is written not according to Norton's Elements of Style or the wish to become rich and famous. Each word is a drop of blood shed for the tragedy, which is life. If life does not seem a tragedy, that is the worse tragedy.
"All those kids – going through the gate."
This building has no plants, no grass on the outside. It has tile, about six feet of it between the front door and the sidewalk. The bars of the fence are high and have points on top. The door slams loudly when open, but it is usually locked. Many of its transient tenants lose their keys and sleep in the bush when nobody opens the door. Most of the occupants who live here because of the cheap rent do not care to play doorman or react to anything, including a shooting or a woman screaming for her life. The others care, as much as they are able, considering their emotional drawbacks.
"Need to apply energy."
Cheap food is usually full of sugar – cookies for $1, a candy bar on sale, or a bottle of no brand soda. After the first high, then comes the low and it's time to lie on the mattress or sit under a large tree behind the public library. But the rest of the body is accompanied by the restless mind – many dreams and hopes go through the mind. 'I need to do this, I need to do that.'
"You should be on top of the world (some years ago) said by psych to son."
Funny thing, the person of this diary is probably brilliant. And if not brilliant, he is even more – an actual human being without disguise, without illusion. He lives and suffers the truth of humanity with all its ugliness and flights of immortality.
"Black this holiday season. It's what they are wearing."
Surely this is an irony. The SoBe irony. They said at one time 'gray is the new black.' It is all about 'the look' down here. One thing is certain, the people with 'the look' are the people without hope, without hope of becoming the writer of an anonymous diary that touches the jugular vein.
"Forgive and forget. 1st, 2nd, 3rd – VA – woman didn't get to go there."
Another funny thing, the others care, care a lot. Even when they curse someone who has abused them, they still care. They still have respect for the 'scumbag' in a strange sort of way, and will sometimes give them their last cigarette.
"I don't give a damn about him now. Caught him going in my room."
It is often the case when one of the others is homeless and will crash in the room of one who is very weak in boundaries, as most of the others are. It really is not so much about boundaries, for what are boundaries, anyway? What are we keeping in or out? As much as their pain is intense, so is their feeling for other human beings and other creatures too. One man, called 'birdman,' housed three large parrots in the shower stall of one of the others. It was not long before these birds were stolen. A sad sight is the man called 'birdman' walking down the busy street with no birds on his shoulders and no hope of having any more birds any time soon.
"What's True and Just? Dust thou art and to dust thou shall return."
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