Scene: Atlantic Avenue and Court Street, 11 p.m.

(Three black youths enter, stage right)

Black Youth 1: Let’s get that n____r!

Black Youth 2: Yeah, get him!

Black Youth 3: Get that n_____r!

(They cross left, chasing after another black youth. They start to beat him)

Our Hero: (standing stage right) What the f*ck… (reaches for phone to call the police.)

(A Hispanic man with an American accents sidles up to OH from stage right)

Hispanic Man: These n____rs are stupid!

(OH ignores him, turns to leave)

HM: I love this shit. (pause) Just say n_____r one time. Just say it.

OH: No. (He starts to walk away. HM follows.)

HM: Come on! I’m not black; I won’t be offended.

(Black youths exit, stage left)

OH: No. That’s just not something I say lightly.

HM: Oh, OK. Have a good night! (He exits stage right ahead of OH).

Fin

-

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.”

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Scene: The Frozen Food Aisle. Our Hero is stocking frozen cereal

Enter a Middle-Aged Man in Army Coat

MAMiAC
Do you have any just regular plain waffles?

OUR HERO
Nope. Just the gluten-free ones.

MAMiAC
Jesus! What the hell did people do twenty years ago? Gluten-free. Cage-free eggs. (Gestures to the dairy section) They’re showing mercy to chickens. When I was in Vietnam, we killed people; we didn’t show any mercy.

OH
Yes, but they were technically free-range.

MAMiAC
(Laughs) Yeah. (Exits)

OH
(To himself) I need a new job.

This is the sentence I changed in editing at the the sacrifice of flow to break up the monotony of repeating the same initial word. Here’s the sentence I ignrode in editingbecause I paid too much attention to the previous sentence. This sentence allows me to use a word that no-one has ever superrealized, yet you’ll accept it because clicking “Read more” means you’re already hooked on my post. Also, quotation marks make me seem more authoritative. Now I mention the mundane thing that happened to me today that triggered this blog post. I follow with a description of my outrage that will fly way over your head. Here is a relevant link.

This is an awkward transition. Now I mention something relevant in pop culture that will pique your fading interest. This next sentence won’t really relate that well, but you’re still thinking about the pop culture reference so it doesn’t matter. Then I post a video which you’ll draw your own conclusions from.

Here’s where my point runs out of steam and I realize it doesn’t have enough heft to sustain a four-paragraph post. This is where I try to cover up that I’m an amateur writer by pretending to achieve enlightenment through pacing out my unedited criticisms of something too far removed from real life. This is where I notice my run-on sentences and then take comfort in knowing that all great modern writers use them.

Here’s a hasty conclusion because I just saw a Twitter post about the death of the blog and I need to post a comment post-haste about how the blog is still a vibrant and exciting expression of our new media frontier. A pithy comment follows that, though profound at first, makes less and less sense after you stop reading.

It’s been awhile, blog. I know I haven’t written, but I’ve been caught up in other things. Yeah, I know, writing about a trip to Gallipoli doesn’t take up all my time. But researching volunteer opportunities in Brooklyn was a time-intensive project. Then there’s the day job and registering to vote and the summer laying about. Why, it just was impossible to keep you updated.

But the season is turning and I’d love to come back if you’ll take me. What do you say?