Comments Posted By Eric Harrell
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I slip into the seaside view, a daydream to take me away from this didactic boredom. This pedagogical pedigree brought down upon me, lecturing me with a unreasonable force – disallowing debate. Do I sit and open my ear, turn it so as to tune in a better sound? Or do I bow and scrape to every instruction. I wish to simply leave – to escape to this actual seaside view and much more, touch, taste, and smell!
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 03.14.2019 @ 1:25 pm
Sift through emotions to find that golden nuggets. Invest in yourself and it will bring you emotional and situational awareness. A fisher-person perfecting their technique is suddenly you, who navigates peers, individuals, and strangers. You who is come to for advice and you who deescalates situations.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 03.12.2019 @ 5:14 am
We end this story how we began. The scenes are juxtaposed. Similar in almost every panel, every syllable but different in the most minute – but perceptible images. Footprints to handprints. Dust to ash. We look out into the Van Gogh night and see swirling stars and harsh swirls amidst jagged bold streaks. We cannot ever conceive of a happy ending. It must always end vague to let the mind wander and suppose more of the story. We must allow the reader/viewer to fill the gaps in their dreams.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 03.09.2019 @ 4:28 pm
How poignant, to be confronted with the most fitting word to describe a lack thereof. Like quicksand, I fall into its comfort and I am drowned by grain. I seek to practice good habits but I fall into the same old habits. I know to be mindfull, I must gather up the courage. I know I must be courageous to ever have my mind full of wisdom. I may lack current confidence but I will combat this with a soft calm as I welcome the swallowing sands.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 02.19.2019 @ 7:41 pm
Subway bullet trailing through the vacuous tunnels. I see the light reflected off the opaque walls to my left. It ushers the coming of the train in the deep of the metro. An announcer soothes us with their sweet voice, and tells us to step back lest we be in dangers way. Well I know the way. I watch the train from the corner of the platform, behind the yellow line but far from the two possible exits to ground level. I stand beside the blue light flashing sirens telling me of its impending arrival. I look at the driver dead in their eye and let the silver bullet wash my eyes with its blinding speed. The train in the metro becomes a silver wall upon its arrival. I do not step in.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 02.13.2019 @ 12:58 pm
He hung plates on his wall. The circular decorations made his walls vibrant and every guest saw landscapes in the porcelain mirrors. They were from an upscale dining store in Manulife Center.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 02.12.2019 @ 9:29 am
We took the ferry across Ontario Lake to Center Island in my hayday. It was a crisp morning with the fog just nipping at my skin. I had a friend there with me, the son of my mother’s co-worker. In ten years, I’ll meet him and we will look at each other and say that we recognize each other – but nothing will come of it. We spend the entire day at Center Island and rely on the ferry to bring us back from this fantasy world, back to reality like Charon navigating the river Styx.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 02.11.2019 @ 5:52 am
A wedding is a solemn ceremony, formulated at the end of Rennaisance. It started with the dowry as the original ritual; however, as that no longer applied to modern relationships, it developed into the ceremony of the exchange of rings. Further, elucidated, this ceremony included the solemnization by a priest – who, by power of the Church, made it law – and thus, we have our sanctimonious wedding ceremony.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 02.06.2019 @ 4:24 pm
I’ve adapted to this modern existence. Tied my shoes. Avoided addiction. Yet I still fill unfulfilled, perhaps its because I’m a millennial, perhaps it’s because I’m just a regular 20 something year old, perhaps I’ve yet to ever achieve a gold. Never been at the peak, just falling in the medium. I kind of have to say that’s okay. I’m coming to terms with it. I’ve adapted.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 02.03.2019 @ 8:49 am
St. Ives sent the shipment of blood stones, down through the gully bay of East Indover. Terribly wrong about the facts of the weird world where green dreams are not but assertions of truth or falsity. Who brings down those barrow shipments but the pirates off of Somalia’s bay, but are there not pirates found elsewhere? Perhaps its a reiteration of classification.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.31.2019 @ 8:08 am
You’re in court. An observer to the criminal act that the law is trying to thwart. Provoke them, reach into the stress of it all and prepare your report. Let your mind be your own resort. Do not let vicarious details ever distort. You’re your own escort and the backdrop to this trial.
Absorb the lessons terribly old,
feel your back drop into its comfortable mold,
Letting wisdom seep,
into the crevasse between your chest and spine,
let it creep,
upwards like an ivy-league vine,
then release it instantaneous;
a mine, except there’s no explosion.
Mantra made slogan, aging infinitely like a fine-wine.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.26.2019 @ 6:38 pm
I will not be chewed up and sit out by a world of cynicism because I am left unconvinced by the sin that’s left within them. See, I never felt the utmost pain but I got close and the fact no one knows Is a damn shame. I am shamed, by history and race. I rage inside but I must sublimate. Because no one will have sympathy, I should have no platform, so I must compose myself and remain in good form lest I let cynicism into my heart and bid my optimism adieu as it departs.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.22.2019 @ 6:20 am
It came suddenly and render the world tumultuous. Riling up institutions and monarchies in the early 2000s. The millennial generation swept the world by storm in an age where people were still afraid of the Y2K scandal. The millennials, those upstarts with their shortened lingos and linguistic shortcuts did not appreciate the time honored traditions of waking up and reading the newspaper or enjoying a nice Sunday afternoon. They did not even fear the computer with its complicated processes. No, they were quick and possessed short attention spans. Maybe this is why we millennials replaced the order generation so quickly then.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.17.2019 @ 11:34 am
Amadeus, Amadeus, Amadeus preen into my ear. Whisper me your lullaby when I’m soft asleep. So sayeth ye all. Lull me during my terrible twos and teach me the way of this world with your neoprene melodies. Soft…I wonder and lo, I search for you a yonder.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.14.2019 @ 7:17 pm
I slipped on the muck that shot onto my jacket from the McAdam. The driver smiled his devilish grin as he neared the puddle next to my sidewalk. As the slush drenched me head to toe, I send him my warmest goodbyes.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.13.2019 @ 1:12 pm
The sellotape spins its revolutions in front of me; inside of the plastic container of my family’s old cassette. The Japanese synth from the 1980s’ resounds through the air yet dulls when it reaches my modern sense of taste. The beats lose their veracity. The rhythm loses its velocity. The hook loses its viscosity. The history of my family is being killed by the digital record of the present. This old medium has lost its value to me. In my opinion, this cassette no longer preserves “sound.” How could this cassette ever hope to preserve music.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 01.07.2019 @ 12:58 pm
Over months that became years, Madel and her brother came to understand more clearly the misery that had befallen their town. The damage was irreparable and sharp, and rendered hopes of rebuilding nearly obsolete. Theirs was a story of desolation and catastrophe, and it was merely a testament to their collective spirit that they were able to dream of healing.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.19.2018 @ 6:34 am
The first time I felt a genuine pain was when I broke my arm. I was six years old and I did not have the capacity to understand what was happening to me- there was a snap, a crack, and then a bright hot blindness that overtook the sun and the grass and all memories. There was only the pain, all consuming. It was almost beautiful.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.19.2018 @ 6:31 am
It does more harm than good to tell a white lie. For the thief of time is the worst thief of all. A white lie suffocates the truth and smothers it with tantalizing and soft down-feather blankets. If you do not seek to harm the person, you should not distort their perception of reality with a lie so white, it’s blinding.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.18.2018 @ 9:47 pm
My girlfriend needs a shot of espresso each day. Truth be told, I don’t get this necessity. Whereby it impairs her ability to think or function except in a groggy redundancy because of a lack of opaque liquid. Is it then not an addiction? Why are so many dependent on the bean? Beans wrought through labor, sweat, and war. People so against profiteering as my girlfriend but dependent upon the product. Am I alone?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.10.2018 @ 10:28 am
It’s a ambiguous feeling, that moment of limbo between fanfare and the gloom of obligation. There are times when I wake so early that the sun is still down and there is a crisp in the air that is felt inside of my home. In those moments, I seem to have fun in whatever I do. This is counter to the exhilaration I feel while engaged in a little competition over video games or the truly disheartening fun I experience at parties when I am engaged.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.06.2018 @ 3:01 am
“Ahoy Matey!: Came the call crashing down as waves tided over us. It lorded all the sailors on the wooden panel deck and with it came a rush of order and calm. I looked out upon the vicious waves, towards are impending doom. Everyone could see the tip and know that there was solace in deep refreshing death in the iceberg.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.01.2018 @ 8:15 pm
There is a legend going around the cities alleys. It talks about a young girl, by the name of Le Serco. Some have confused her with the television personality of Korra but they were as distinctive as water and earth. She was a master chef, brought the elements to her wok with molecular gastronomy ahead of her own cities technology.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 04.01.2017 @ 8:59 am
Milk laddle rocking on a table. A small puddle of spoiled milk lying in the cradle. Big dipper, little boy drummer in the sky. We’ve been left too long outside. It’s live now or…time.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.15.2016 @ 9:29 pm
The cesspool of the swamp my family called my inheritance was a little more than I, a city-dwelling lawyer could stand. I had grown up envisioning a large tract of land, nothing close to a paradise, but something tenable at the very least. A fly swam into my mouth left agape. Southern Hospitality had a different meaning here and gave rise to a rural hostility instead – at least for in this tentative, stunned existence of mine.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 11.15.2016 @ 4:36 pm
-nd I was saying to therapist at the table, “Why do you always have to psychoanalyze me.” They looked at me tellingly, an inside joke shared amongst the three at the table with me: Some sitting at a higher chair than others, and others separated by tables themselves; I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise until my friend, the therapist, calmed his need to preach Freud’s fire and brimstone condemnation of a lonely person with not much going for them. Their gleeful smiles were enough to tell me what their last conversation was about and continue it as if I were there. It went sort of like- “in question, is unfit for trial you say?” “I do say so” said the Therapist and the tallest among us, sitting on the highest chair said something like: “then by the power invested in me by the Supreme Court of Toronto, I hereby declare this individual mentally unfit for-” So I just turned a-
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 11.02.2016 @ 6:10 pm
Meet cute, a deep rooted classroom friendship has grown to this off-campus huddle over soup. The button nosed Tamil girl eats the hot-pot slowly and I fall into the depth of her ladle like one of those coriander flakes. She winces minutely when I bring up karaoke, a cute affect to subtlely let me know that I’m just a herb to tint the bite.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.30.2016 @ 11:16 am
Encompassed by and sheltered into a shell of expectation. Like a tortoise, I retreat into a form that people think more accepting. Creativity and innovation is at my center but I’m closed off by internal barriers of social propriety, tact, society’s “role of the male,” and emotion. Further enclosed by external barriers of form, body, skin tone, orientation and voice. The declaration that I am speaking of something cliche is a shell in and of itself – a barrier of comfort I could behind but a barrier through which I wish to break through. Shell…the layer between the real me and the real you.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 07.29.2016 @ 6:23 am
Over a sidewalk curb, they lept and piled into the streets with the crowd. Dundas square loomed from uptown, the bright lights illuminating Yonge streets horizon. A narrow strait of urban expanse, consuming their entire view. Two mountains of glass and cement with one canyon route leading to the center of the city. They each wondered how fast they could flee their duties and bleed into the parade doen Yonge. A cities offering, respite here and now, take it.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 12.18.2015 @ 6:30 pm
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We ride the subway to our destination like rockets with a designated coordinate. I wonder if it is right to stray off the plotted course and seek a new horizon on my own. Could I not return to where I was? Could I not fly into some unknown area or plunge into the sea and get lost in the depths of kelp and reeds?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 11.16.2015 @ 6:14 pm