I think it started with the mushrooms.But maybe it started with me. He lives behind Bin Cluster 7.Walks upright. Carries a dinosaur ladle.Looks at me like I’m the strange one. I gave him a name Rupert von Bin because someone had to. I’ve watched him make soup from things that shouldn’t be soup.Mushrooms, mostly. Things… Continue reading The Bin, the Ladle, the Madness: Field Notes from a Feral Witness
I wasn’t planning to leave anything that day. I wasn’t in the mood to ruin anyone’s afternoon. But sometimes the past calls your bluff, and sometimes it dares you to answer back with a typewriter and a grudge. So I did. I picked the book carefully. Breaking Dawn. The kind of love story that glorifies… Continue reading The Human Toenail
Angela brought a handwritten letter.Marlene responded with a typewriter. The topic?A cherry pie, a stolen chair, and the unholy audacity of calling hydrangeas hibiscus. Angela believes in community values. Marlene believes in microwave desserts and vengeance. This is no longer about Saturday’s gathering.This is about order. And flavor. And respect. Read them both. Then ask… Continue reading Casserole Politics
Little Ghost Post 