By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
In the fall of 2011, I sought out a printer to print a collection of short stories I had written. The collection was entitled “Iambic Pentagram,” and contained a dozen short stories and essays, mostly satirical and humorous social insights and observations. One of the essays was called “Why I am an Atheist.”
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Imagine this: One day you wake up and find yourself in the same position you were the day before that, the day before that, and for that matter, the months before that. You wake up, you have to go to school or work, and you’re already late before you even started. But this day is different and you don’t know it yet. Because this day you find the one you will love forever.
Who doesn’t want that? Perhaps those with deficiencies for true love like psychopaths, cult leaders and those who ascend to earth from the underworld, but otherwise, I think many of us have woken up on Sunday mornings with the hopes and desires of finding someone who will love us for us for who we really are. In turn, we will do the same. We will mutually love that person for the essence of their being.
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Did you hear that? It sounded like the closing of a cave door collapsing into the ground from a cave occupied by a cave dweller. It sounded like a special effect from an Indiana Jones movie. Stick with me now. I’m going somewhere with this.
It sounded like someone was dragging a shovel over the cement. Remember the sound of shoveling snow? The shovel scraping against the driveway? It was like that, but slow it down. Yes, like that, a slow shovel scarily scraping.
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
The day before Easter this year, I ran into an engaged couple I know. The groom-to-be is an attorney (eerily similar to Patrick Bateman) and the bride-to-be, well, she defines her existence by the size of her engagement ring.
I did not say hi to them because the last three times I saw them, they pretended to not see me, so on this occasion, I acknowledged their existence, then got on with life, waiting to order a medium coffee at Starbucks–a local Starbucks that does not correct you, saying, “You mean grande? This particular day, however, this couple decided to break their habit of ignoring me.
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
When I was still tattooing in south Florida, people were getting carpe diem tattoos like people buy tacos from Taco Bell. That analogy is bad because it implies we specialized in carpe diem tattoos, but you get the idea: lots of carpe diem tattoos getting pumped out on a regular basis.
That brings me into a thought I’ve had recently: we all want to know how to live our lives and sadly, we spend so much of our lives trying to figure that out.
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
I have a painting hanging up in my bedroom that I found in the trash about ten years ago. People are always surprised to hear that when I tell them because it’s a great painting. Why anyone would have wanted to trash this thing is beyond me. It’s a nice painting and it beats decorating your house with the same Target prints and black light posters your friends have.