The target

“Target is crossing street. Following.”
“Love that swaying little ass of hers.”
“Shut up, Jeremy.”
“Wonder what she’s done that we’re going after her.”
“Target keeps looking back, seems nervous.”
“Reminds me of Diana. Lady Di.”
“Don’t need your puerile phantasies, Jeremy.”
“Just saying. She’s definitely cute.”
“Target turned left into 10th Street. Staying behind.”
“Are the Russians after her?”
“What Russians? You been watching too many stupid movies.”
“The Russian mafia. Maybe her boyfriend’s involved.”
“Target is walking faster, keeps looking around. Not at us, I don’t think.”
“Or the IRS. But she doesn’t look like big fish.”
“Black Audi, Jersey license plates. Target looking to cross street.”
“Feel completely superfluous, John. Just following you, taking orders. Complete waste.”
“Shut the fuck up, Jeremy. We’re on a job.”
“I’ll bet you anything she’s on to us.”
“Target crossing.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Audi speeds up. Target hit!”
“What the fuck!”
“Audi speeds off. Target motionless on ground.”

– James Steerforth (© 2016)

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From the memoirs of an addict

… so I found myself taking trains, hopping on buses, taking my car through streets where I knew I’d get stuck in jams to have that extra time I needed for smartphone activity that I could not justify otherwise.

– Tommy H. (© 2016)

(Tommy H.’s book From the memoirs of an addict, due out some time in 2017, is a romp through the various addictions the author has gone through from the 1980s to now.)

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The claims to fame contest

“So what’s your biggest claim to fame? I mean, meeting a famous person, something like that.”
This seemed an odd question considering we’d just met, having cocktails on adjacent stools at a Bahamas beach bar, but I decided to play along.
“My biggest claim to fame may be to have picked up John Ashbery at the Denver airport in my 1964 Cadillac Sedan de Ville.”
“I agree that the Cadillac is famous, but who’s John Ashbery?”
“Never heard of him?”
I could tell she never had.
“And your biggest claim to fame?”
“I was one of the people singing whimaway on –”
“The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”
“Wow! How’d you guess?”
“It’s the only whimaway that’s famous as far as I know.”
“And you were one of the girls singing that?”
“I was!”
She sucked on her straw and gave me a bright sunshiny smile.
I could tell this impromptu communication was going places. Heck, it might even develop into a deep relationship, and all because of fame.

– James Steerforth (© 2016)

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Wuthering Quotes

The useful word wuther, which has gone out of use somewhat since its heyday in the 19th century, should be revived and not be restricted to heights* alone!

To illustrate how it can be used, there are some literary quotes containing wuther:

“Oh stop it, you wuthering idiot!”
(Henry Wawa Longfellow)

“She kept wuthering and bluthering about it for several days, until she decided that this secret could not be left alone, that it had to be revealed to the world in all its wuthering mystery.”
(Georgina Eliot)

“Darling, how could you possibly doubt me? I love you to wuthereens, and you know it! You better know it!”
(A. J. Woodhouse)

“Wuther didst thou wander?”

*Cf. Wuthering Heights, novel by Emily Brontë (1818-48), published in 1847.

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Out harrowing

I’d been out harrowing since early morning and was happy to see Maisie walking up, carrying a basket. A break was most welcome. I parked the tractor at the edge of the field and climbed down.
“Am I happy to see you! What did you bring me, love?”
“Coffee and two donuts. Second breakfast.”
“You just know what makes me happy, Maisie.”
I started taking bites from one of the donuts while she poured coffee from the thermos.
“There you go.”
“Mhhm! Nice and hot. Hits the spot on a cold Missouri morning.”
“Your lines are imperfect.”
“My what?”
“The lines you made with the tractor.”
“Oh. Hadn’t noticed.”
“They should be a lot straighter.”
“I must have been thinking of you.”
“Lame excuse. As if I were crooked!”
“Crooked no. Curvy yes.”
That elicited a chuckle.
“And you know how much I hate harrowing.”

– James Steerforth (© 2016)

Woven around harrowing (even though not used in the intended sense here), imperfect and lame from 3WW. More or less arbitrarily set in Missouri because cold mornings and agriculture occur there.

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Life was so resonant in the Obituary Age at Mount Placid…

– James Steerforth (© 2015)

Three words – obituary, placid, resonant – from 3WW integrated in a piece of nostalgia that is as fake as nostalgia usually is and then some.

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Scathing prediction

“You want to become a photographer of nudes? – With your makeshift equipment and lackadaisical attitude you’ll never get anywhere, I can promise you that.” Said my uncle Said to me when I was sixteen but already more than sure of what I wanted in life.

And look where I am now … most successful nude photographer in all of Egypt, with the ladies coming running and flocking. They love my lackadaisical attitude. And my makeshift equipment has served me excellently, be it in desert dunes, hotel rooms or kings’ graves.

– Ghamal Abd el Hadr

I received an e-mail from an unknown a while ago who called himself Ghamal Abd el Hadr. He wanted to know if I could help him publish his autobiography (from which the above two paragraphs are a short excerpt). I replied that I would see what I could do. Perhaps this excerpt, which I’m publishing here because it accidentally includes all three of this week’s words for 3WW (lackadaisical, makeshift and nude), will generate some interest in this man’s biography. I have not seen any of his photos and can therefore neither include one nor evaluate his work – which he claims to be prolific and widely known in his home country – in any way.

James Steerforth, Dec. 2, 2015

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