Steven W Meistrich
Bio
These are glimpses from the edge of an unquiet mind.
Stories (2)
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Questions From an Unquiet Universe
January, 2020 PHILOSOPHY. I want to be a philosopher. I don’t understand how to get started; keep tripping on the words. As an example, in my efforts to become a deep thinker, should I talk to myself out loud? I get stuck. Should I say“as an example,” or be more economical with language; say, “for example” and do I “talk” to myself or “speak” to myself? More problematic. When I speak to myself, I sound like Lenny Bruce and Lenny wouldn’t “speak, “ he would “talk” and while that would really upset Mrs. Rosman, my high school English teacher, Lenny wouldn’t care and then I begin to wonder if anyone really cares and it turns out to be the longest fucking run-on sentence imaginable. Were Joyce’s stream of consciousness prose brilliant, a clever manipulation of language or just well edited, run-on sentences? Do I use “was” or “were.” Mixing plurality and tenses; stuck on pedestrian linguistics? Trying to be a deep thinker but thoughts are flying through the air like staccato, atonal Jazz notes. Simultaneously grounded and inconsistent. Question, if I’m speaking to myself, who’s speaking to the voices in my head? Answers, no answers. Philosophizing. Success.
By Steven W Meistrich6 years ago in The Swamp
My Enigmatic Memoirs
It was Saturday, which meant only one thing; soccer. Lacing up the cleats for another day of coaching my proud, eight year old warriors. Shane wasn’t interested in soccer. He wasn’t interested in any sports. He was however, passionate about picking dandelions on the soccer field, a trait he inherited from me. I was coaching for one simple reason . . . I didn’t want some frustrated, under achieving, former jock, screaming at my son because he really didn’t give a shit. Shane and I preferred the flowers, well, more precisely, the pretty yellow weeds.
By Steven W Meistrich6 years ago in Criminal
