01824: After the Prom
PHOTO: If it’s a tequila sunrise, does that make this a vodka sunset? on Flickr by Patrick Powers CC BY-NC-ND
It wasn’t the noise of them fucking that was keeping Matt awake; it was his own Goddamned erection. With a pillow over his head, he could escape the rhythmic creak of the old floorboards, the piercing squeaks of the poorly-assembled brass bed, and the shrill yelps of Michael’s saucy little minx. But, pillow or no, he couldn’t ignore Wee Willie Winkie standing at attention, eager to be recognized, unwilling to stand down.
THE WAY THEY WERE INSIDE - NH 48HFP 2009
This week, we feature someone else’s story here on the blog. My friend John Herman wrote and directed the Purple Finch Moving Picture Society’s 2009 submission to the New Hampshire 48 Hour Film Project. The film is titled The Way They Were Inside, and aside from featuring great performances by Emily Briand, Chuck Galle, Brian Paul, and too many others to mention, it features a cameo by my daughter, Kaylee Clark.
As I sat in a darkened theater in Londonderry, New Hampshire last night, surrounded by the cast and crew, to watch our film and the handful of others that were screening alongside it, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I keep trying to write a sentence here that would describe what I felt without spoiling it for you, but words are failing me. So, I’ll just close with this: John and company crafted a touching, funny film, and Kaylee, Stephanie, and I were proud to be a small part of it.
Enjoy! And when you’re done, leave a comment (either here, or over on YouTube).
01824: Metal Night at the Roller Kingdom
PHOTO: Skates on Flickr by flattop341 CC BY
Michael Silver was in love with Desiree Emerson, or at least that’s what he told himself. At fifteen, maybe he didn’t know exactly what love was—Matt was telling him as much over the phone right now—but he knew for sure that he felt something for Desiree. He didn’t just have the hots for her; as his grandfather had so eloquently put it, at a Christmas party back in the day, back before his family’s Great Schism, back when friends and family crowded the halls of their Cape house on every possible occasion, Michael lit up like Rudolph’s nose at the mere sight of Desiree. And if that wasn’t love, then what the heck was it?
What was it about Desiree that made her so combustible? Well, you had to look at it this way: she was a senior, and a cheerleader, and far prettier than any cover girl he’d ever seen, and yet, despite all that, Desiree still said ‘hi’ to him in the hallways at school. She was Veronica’s best friend, and that meant she knew Michael by proxy, and kinda-sorta had to be cordial to him when they bumped into each other at parties and whatever. But she was under no obligation to acknowledge his existence within the hallowed halls of Chelmsford High. And even if she was so obligated, she surely wasn’t required to give him a smile on occasion, or a wave.
Lesley University Writers’ Conference - July 2009
Joyce Wadlington, Director of Continuing Eduction over at Lesley, sent me a reminder about the 2009 Lesley University Writers’ Conference and I thought y’all might be interested in hearing about it.
The conference runs from Sunday, July 29 through Friday, July 31. Faculty includes Afaa Michael Weaver and Steven Cramer (Poetry), David Elliot (Children’s Book Writing), Marcie Hershman (Nonfiction), and Rachel Kadish and Michael Lowenthal (Fiction). The guest authors this year are Julia Glass, M.T. Anderson, and Gail Mazur.
Participants of past conferences have given kudos to the program, calling the craft lectures “fabulous” and saying “I couldn’t imagine a better total immersion in a writing environment.”
For detailed information, visit www.lesley.edu/info/luwc. But hey, while you’re here, why not check out my interview with Steven Cramer, one of this year’s faculty members?
01824: One Last Time
PHOTO: Rejected on Flickr by love not fear CC BY-NC-ND
Editor’s Note: “Death by Cursor,” originally published in The Bradford ReView, and re-published in the collection Those Little Bastads and on this Website, was based on the recollections of Mr. Stanley Brooks, a police officer from the great city of Lowell, Massachusetts. However, it has come to our attention that much of the story was a fabrication constructed by Mr. Brooks and based on a one-night stand he had during his days as a campus safety officer at Kimball College in Haverhill, Massachusetts. What follows is the true story, as told to us by Mr. Matthew Silver of Dunstable, author of The Silver Family of Harwich, who, it turns out, never did manage to kill himself, at least not in the literal way that Mr. Brooks described.
These new townhouses, which his cousin hated, retained none of the character of the Cluster Houses which they now surrounded, and would someday replace permanently. Matt imagined them being plopped down by some random New England cyclone, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the Tornado of August 1851. All brick and mortar, they belonged to some distant kingdom, perhaps the realm of AN, if not the land of OZ. They certainly were out of place here, amongst the brownish gray clapboard of the Clusters. But like all of the things Matt’s cousin Michael loved, Kimball was gradually being destroyed in the name of progress. Sure, the Clusters were sinking into the ground a little more each year, but that was part of the charm. Or so Michael said.
E. Christopher Clark, MFA, is an author, family historian, and all-around geek who is passionate about storytelling in all its forms.
