It begins with a memory. But the memory is contained in an object. The object is easy to find. It has been with me since the age of eight. It has lived with me in every house, every apartment. It has been my traveling companion. It has rested on my dresser, my night stand, always in plain sight. It has seen most of Indiana from Lafayette, Vincennes, Terre Haute, and has returned with me to Linton. It now sits on my desk, resting on the base of a lamp with the sharp edges casting shadows...

Every child knows Murphy’s law. I think it becomes slowly ingrained in us as we grow up, because what we plan can often crumble before our very eyes like an old piece of parchment. In no other experience have I found this to be true than with home improvement. Of course, this is coming from a person who has the technical skills equivalent to child banging two sticks together...

Before noon we were packed and headed towards Tulsa. We finished the last day of work Wednesday afternoon, and afterwards I was able to enjoy the freedom to do anything, which in the town I was posted, was the freedom to do nothing. I continued to feel the stagnation as the car barreled down Highway 69 towards Tulsa. We left town with the sun still shining and a breeze warning of an impending storm. We met the rain head on about 20 miles to our destination...

The hotel room was dark. The faint smell of bleach permeated from bathroom to the living room. A stillness existed which, until my arrival, was unbroken. It was only when I turn on the lights, looked in the mirror that I saw the ragged strands of hair pointed as compass on top of my head...

There has been on topic I’ve failed to write about for the last many weeks. It is not for a lack of something to say, but a comprehensive angle never manifested. In my past columns, I have written about music in different ways ... whether it is anecdotal or supplementary, but I’ve never tackled the topic directly...

Life is complicated. If there is one thread which weaves through our lives it is as soon as we are born, we are fated to go through many experiences which will shape the way we view the world. Most people will experience love, the loss of it, joy and pain. Each emotion contains with it a counter-balance. As many people have pointed out before, life would be a dull experience if it was merely joyful. For what is joy without sorrow?...

Do you remember that moment when music made an impact on your life? For some, music is an inescapable facet of life. It is with them in the car, as they walk down the street, it is the background noise to conversation, it is the emotional shoulder when times seem bleak, it is the introduction of a new bride and new groom and it plays it out when our time has come. Music is explicably tied to memory. Perhaps that is why I can’t listen to Bruce Springsteen without thinking of my parents...

Each town has its own unique attributes. More specifically, small towns generally share a similar thread: a tight-knit community coupled with a legato pace. Depending on one’s perspective, these attributes could either be a benefit or a deterrent. ...

After 12 years of signing leases for apartments, I took a more permanent step in placing my signature on a mortgage for a term of 30 years in July. 30 years is a lot of time, considering it is equal to my entire lifespan. Prior to this, I never entered into a contractual obligation for more than a year. ...

The volley of a thousand screams filled my ears as I fell through the lake. Before my eyes, flashes of light contorted, merged into shapes and would take human form. I would see the faces of people pass before me, each looking indifferent and without expression. But as one visage would arise, another would usurp in its wake. It was hard to center where the screams originated. There was no direction, neither up nor down or dimensions existed in the space...

“Where are we?” “Where are we not?” returned the Ambassador as he walked towards the tree on the hill. Déjà vu is an odd feeling, in fact there is no other way to describe the way I felt after arriving other than with those two words. Every step, every turn of the head was as if I was ordained to do so, or I have already done so before. I felt a player whose role was written by some unknown author...

Author’s note: Parts 1 -6 of this narrative comprises the first book of this story. It was not until I finished the Part 6 last Friday evening when I decided this would be a conducive layout for this book/serialization/writing experiment. As with most works, this one in particular has taken a life of its own as it continued to grow and expand with each part/chapter. ...

How do you weigh a moment? Time passes, but not equally. The word "time" is merely a placeholder, which if you break it down, describes little and illuminates less. Einstein, when speaking on the principals of relativity, explained that time moves differently depending on the situation or our relative experience...

Sometimes I doubt these words. Everything is biased, and despite my best efforts for objectivity, what remains is tinted by the lens of the author. Being the author, I am not free from scrutiny, even if it is my own. As I think back to the Ambassador, Laura Spencer and the cast of characters which riddle this narrative, it is often hard to separate dreams from memory. ...

There was silence -- no breath, no voice, it was a void. The phone was a dead weight in my hand as it nestled against my ear. "Hello?" I asked for the second time. No response. Once more I surveyed the field, and found nothing but the faded glow of a set sun. The trees swayed in indolent waves and my car appeared as a faint speck next to a gravel road. I was abysmally alone...

The following morning I opened my eyes twice for good measure. I was in my bedroom -- the same room where I spent countless hours watching reruns of the X-Files and reading Kurt Vonnegut. The tattered "The Truth Is Out There" poster was only a further affirmation. I was home...

When I was younger I was a very independent child. I did not much care for the structure of family vacation or for structure in general. To say I was petulant would be a kind way to express the true nature of my character. To much of my mother's duress, I used to be difficult to drag out of bed, when, on vacations, everybody would want to sightsee, I would rather spend my days sleeping and relaxing. In truth I was mostly content in being a contrarian to most of my parents requests...

Friday, April 8 will be a date which will be indelibly marked in my mind. For those who don't know, my schedule is mostly nocturnal -- my days begin at 2 p.m. and end at 6 a.m. But that Friday morning a kink compromised my plan: I was awoken with a phone call. ...

Author's note: Instead of writing a regular column for the next many months, I will be writing a continuous story following the character of Jacobi Bartley. As with most works of fiction, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Except for you, Philip. Cheers...

Author's note: Since I have worked at the Greene County Daily World I have been fairly stringent about writing a regular column. At first, the ideas would flow without ceasing, but after a year and half, the proverbial well of ideas has reached a lull. ...