Happy Monday! I’m particularly happy this Monday because the summer issue of “The Massachusetts Review” just came out with my short story, “Jack and the Skunk.” Also included in the issue are some poems by Pablo Neruda. I enjoy seeing my name beside Neruda’s, but I wonder if there was some kind of mistake, because my name is printed so much smaller than his that I fear readers who don’t look closely might miss it entirely. It could be a printing error. I will look into it.
If you’d like to read it, copies can be ordered (for the relatively low sum of $10) at: http://www.massreview.org. So far, no one has requested my autograph. This, however, could be another of those minor errors. It’s possible that people were not aware that my autograph is available. They might associate me too closely with Neruda and imagine that I, like he, am prevented from giving out autographs due to the cumbersome inconvenience of being dead. To set the record straight, I am NOT dead, and my autograph IS available. So just let me know if you want your copy signed. I understand that it increases the value by approximately 2 cents, which is a .2% markup, and ought not to be overlooked.
In the meantime, here is this week’s installment of “The House Behind the Oaks.” Have a wonderful week and, as always, thanks for reading,
Excerpt from where we left off last week:
The kitchen was blue, too. I began to think it must be the woman’s favorite color. Sunlight poured through the leafy tangle of flowerless rhododendron bushes outside the window, and then through the thick, old-fashioned panes of the window itself, which rippled, distorting the images outside into a foggy, green smear. The dishes in the sink were piled high with soap bubbles, but they must have sat there for a long time, for a fine film of dust had collected on top of the bubbles, mimicking their swirls and eddies: a peculiar combination of cleanliness and filth that fascinated, even while it repelled.