The Mainifesto

I am a collector of texts. This is who I am and what I do to pass the long afternoons of my life, for my own amusement and for the sake of any who stuble across my collection. I cannot comment on the quality of these works, except to say that they amuse me. Some are mediocre, and written with little thought for conclusion. Some are well written, and would do well in the published world. Some stories never happened, and yet still others are true. These distinctions I leave to the mind of the reader. They are my collection, and they all hold equal place in the annals I record, unjudged by the fickle foibles of taste and talent which are so prevalant in this world. Perhaps you will enjoy these stories, perhaps you will not. It is not for me to know, and I will not judge you if you see no merit in them after reading them in full. Who am I to judge? I am only The Collecter.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The Funeral

The cremation of Andrew Makeson was earlier in the week. The funeral director and I were the only attendants.

I have many stories to tell, so I will not dwell upon the newly dead. I have one more story to tell about Makeson, and I know it must be told before he can be put to rest. He was never one for sentementaility; neither am I. He lives on in his word, and it is my duty to recall him one final time.
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)