The Greatest Story Ever Told: Pt II

It goes without saying that none of us Men Of The Pen were married. In the year eighteen hundred and eighty two, a man obsessed with an enterprise as self-destructive, debilitating and impoverishing as ours necessarily had to have a wealthy wife, with dowry in tow, to keep him in booze, ink, paper, and Chinese masseuses. Gamblers knew this, and so did politicians, but unlike these a fellow with an active literary bent had no hope of finding a woman so tolerant.

The Greatest Story Ever Told

It was a dark, windy night. The moon hung fat in the sky like a obstinate sphere of lard dropped in tar. The rain did tippety-tap upon the pale flagstones leading up to the Museum of Art and Other Wonders. My mood was grim and my mind set to a purpose most unkind to my nerves.

Ode to an Autumnal Hangover

There appears to be a wildebeest in my head, stampeding,
Bouncing off the walls and generally misbehaving,
It must have been there hiding in that cask of Old Peculiar -
It’s like a cow, you see, but around the front its woolier -

Narrow-minded cube theory

FOIA release #0349932
FBI Ref #A-2000629
Excerpt: Cyncad transcripts (nill redaction)

Content: Manuscripts recovered from residence of Father Taliesin Cyncad (dec.) St. Louis Jesuit Observatory, September 13th 1987. (See case #A-2000629: Cor. Report: suicide; no charges filed).

To: Father Cycad
Inre: your most recent communication