Reading Ulysses in Montana #604
A yawn erupted across the fawning chasm between the two belligerents, unfooled and unfoiled though they were.
Ginger felt her way along the dark hallway reaching for the light switch, and, having found it, dawn devoured the space between the walls in the hall and ascended rapidly to noon where it remained until George came in from mowing the lawn and said why is it so light in here. Ginger complied, but not with George–not today anyway and tomorrow wasn’t looking so good either. George went to the enlightened kitchen and made a prawn sandwich which he ate with a barrel full of cocktail sauce–with extra horseradish–sawn in two.
By the time George found the dimmer switch, Ginger was gone–and so was the chasm.
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This piece is delightfully surreal and playful, rich with linguistic invention and unexpected turns. Its shifting light, abrupt transitions, and wry domestic moments echo modernist rhythms while remaining distinctly its own. The prose feels both mischievous and thoughtful, inviting the reader to linger in ambiguity and enjoy meaning as it unfolds rather than resolves.
Excellent!
And here I just had peanut butter. I’m full of lunch, but that sandwich looks and sounds great!
This is the Stuff of Stuff