Soon she saw rows and rows of little green bushes gleaming with red strawberries. Each was soaking up water from the earth, taking deep breaths of fresh air, and basking in the warm rays of the sun. They were singing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. They looked so happy and so bright!
This essay is now available here and on academia.edu. Enjoy.
As she came upon the end of the road, the song grew louder and louder. More voices joined in, each singing in their own special way. Some songs sounded like bells – really high and very fast. Other songs sounded very low, and went by slowly like the beating of a drum.
One day she was walking along the road and heard a song… “Oh, what a life! Oh, what a life! A strawberry is a fine thing to be. Sweet and sunny and bright, I love being me!” It seemed very familiar, but she couldn’t remember ever hearing it before. So she started running towards the sound.
My M.A. thesis is now available here on my website, or through academia.edu.
Once upon a time, there was a lost strawberry who couldn’t find her way home. She had forgotten who she was and looked like a little girl on the outside. Sometimes strawberries are concealed. They are covered up by skin and bone and experience. When she tried to be a strawberry, the people around her didn’t understand. Sometimes they would get mad, and sometimes they would do very scary things.
Did you know that strawberries are alive? If you listen closely, you can hear them sing, “Oh, what a life! Oh, what a life! A strawberry is a fine thing to be. Sweet and sunny and bright, I love being me!”
Starting this week, every Sunday I will post one page of A Strawberry.
A strange thing happened today. I arrived late to mass and was forced to stand alongside the wall. As the rest of the congregation rose to stand in chorus, I noticed that a roach was on its back next to a pew. At first I thought it was dead but then it started to kick its legs violently and squirm, trying to flip over. It lay still for some time as if dead, and then squirmed, stretched its head, and fitfully kicked in an effort to save itself. All while the priest was giving the liturgy. When it failed, it lay still again. It seemed odd that no one noticed this bug on the floor save for a few children, and the parents who pulled them away.
Did it mean something? Was it some cosmic sign? If so, what was the message? What was God or the universe trying to tell me?
No one saw it or moved to kill it. The congregation rose for communion, and on my way back I scooped it up with my church bulletin to take it outside. As I was walking out the choir had just begun to sing “America the Beautiful”. I put it in the grass and it scurried off.
Excerpt from The Jungle
I’ve just posted a short story called The Hunger. It’s about the difference gender can make in our relationship to food and each other, and it’s based on the Japanese yokai futakuchi-onna. Enjoy.
If after reading the story you feel moved to do so, please consider donating to one of these charities that help fight hunger:
Action Against Hunger
Freedom from Hunger
The Hunger Project
Meals on Wheels
Consider skipping one of your afternoon candy bars or coffees this week, and instead donating $3 to one of this amazing charities. It will be the difference between eating and starving for someone that needs your help.