cross lights
water
sanctuary lights
(A handwritten note in a desk bought from a church. Submitted by Travis Poling)
notes, marginalia, scribbles
cross lights
water
sanctuary lights
(A handwritten note in a desk bought from a church. Submitted by Travis Poling)
You have parked so badly
making it very difficult for me
to get my car out.
Were you drunk?
You are certainly very selfish
and inconsiderate.
S. Banks.
(A handwritten note left on a badly parked car in Bristol. Submitted by Daniel Mehmet)
We have agreed to let the electric company trim some trees.
If they come when you are there
let them
Ensure they leave the wood behind.
Get them to put the small bits
behind the hazel bush
where the rest of the prunings are.
Try and get a card
from the wood cutter,
we have other trees
we’d like him to look at.
Don’t use the pump in the spring
for more than twenty minutes,
and meanwhile remember
to water everything if God
is not doing his fair share.
(A note left for guests at a holiday cottage in Brittany, 2014. Submitted by Nigel Lawrence)
They are likely to have seen a world
much more alive than ours,
where every tree or hill may have had
the Spirit
or been associated with past times
or mythical stories,
where the soul of a man might inhabit
a dog after his death.
They would have known few other people
and few things they called their own.
But then
it’s worth remembering
the Scottish winters spent without houses,
the dangers of travelling
between islands in primitive boats.
Notes taken by a family member during final year of studying Archaeology at Glasgow University, 2012. Submitted by B.T. Joy.
Writing is
excessive drudgery. It
crooks your back,
it dims your sight,
it twists your stomach
and your sides.
As the harbour is welcome
to the sailor, so is
the last line
to the scribe.
Marginalia from medieval manuscripts, posted on Wesley Hill’s tumblr, 13th April 2012. Submitted by Marika.
Five rooms
All postgrads
But the one guy who was there
wasn’t wearing a shirt
was listening to awful dance music
loudly
and didn’t turn it down.
Not a home.
More like a student flat
per Mackenzie Road, with more
obviously objectionable occupants.
From my flat-hunting friend’s notes, found in an A-Z he gave me. By Nija Dalal.
feel like I don’t have to
know everything
feel strong like I could
do anything I want to
feel unrushed
something got after
feel like I know what I’m doing
at this moment
don’t feel alone or crazy
An anonymous pencilled note handwritten on lined yellow paper, found at the Charlottetown Confederation Centre Library in a book on Buddhism in 2008. It was topped off with a green organic banana sticker. By Steven.
I had my at ‘em ball going today.
We’ve got to have fun. The catcher and I
were on the same wavelength. That’s why they pay
him x million dollars. Give the guy
some credit; he hit a good pitch. Yes. No.
You saw it … write it. You’re only as good
as your last game. I just wanted to go
as hard as I could as long as I could.
That All-Star voting is a joke. It takes
twenty-four players. I couldn’t have done it
without my teammates. With a couple breaks,
we win that game. I don’t get paid to hit.
Hey, we were due to catch a break or two.
I did my best, and that’s all I can do.
From Futility Closet: ‘In 1990, weary of repetitive interviews, Phillies pitcher Don Carman posted this list of responses on his locker. “You saw the game,” he told reporters. “Take what you need.”’
Make christmas pictures. Make christmas toy lists.
Ete mints pies. Decorate bedroom and hotel.
Dress up toys. Reef up. Watch mupits christmas
charle. Make Santa’s house out of lego.
Make christmas cards. Christmas tree or read
christmas story. Watch Narnea. Watch Shreck
the holls. An activity scene out.
Dressing gouns on. Deckarate tree. Play games.
Rein dear sweet thing. Dress Atticus up
as Jeses. Make crackers and biscits.
Play in the snow if there is any.
Take pictures of Robings. Sing Rudeof
the red knose Raindear. Put stockings out.
Put mints pies and drink for Santa.
An advent calendar of 24 things to do before Christmas made by my 7-year-old. Penned 26 October 2010.
5.12.09
Along time ago
There livd a soc pupit
And he lovd chocolate.
But wen he open The cubud
There was no chocolate.
Sow The soc pupit went To The shops
But in The shops
They had rund out.
sow the Soc pupit went bac home
wiv no chocolate.
he lookt on the Top shelf
And he sor
A chocolate Bar.
The End
A story for my birthday, written by my 6-year-old.
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