Woulehoos & Over the rise

Well…

As is said – let the answer be all in the name.  Ideas always percolating were picked like a heavy scab and allowed to bleed by a series of articles that piqued frustration and spoke to worst fears on observations and behavior watched for many years. 

Like The Cut, it was written quickly. Like The Cut, the words bled from my fingers with fluid ease. Unlike the cut – it was done feverishly: The tipping point, an opinion piece in the Boston Globe that left me pissed at the failure of a profession making complaints that sound like the refrain from those operating corners in the city.


Cold and alone, a boy awakens with few memories – and those faded. As he searches for aid, he is confused by the reactions of the people he encounters. He turns to a strange man that promises help – but the man’s motivations may not be as innocuous as they first appear. A quest for truth and valor as the young man struggles to understand the world around him.

Mm -mm… 

Words started scratching on a notepad with a pencil while at work, continued in the parking lot in the old suburban afterwards, and carried on throughout the evening, well into the next part of the day that followed.  Over breakfast. Back at work – sketched out in totality within less than a day. Maybe it shows – i think its pretty solid, but i’ve still got those same thoughts punching my brain: It’s difficult to get far enough away to evaluate.

The Cut was strange, and came from nowhere – literally written in a couple weeks.  Woulehoos came from everything – education, experience, children and listening.  The Cut was written, Woulehoos was sketched out in those hours and the entirety was known from then where it was going – where it shouldn’t. As it was fleshed out, thereafter, consideration was given to whether it should end with where it ended – but it’s a metaphor: A revision. 

Ferrar’s caution plays out, and new perspectives force everyone to reconsider the events that shaped their lives.

Over the rise is more blunt – muddled thoughts still whirling but expressed more succinctly: Why are things the way they are? The topic was particular, but the longer i spend on this planet, the more broadly Khepdy’s observation can be applied.

As if ripped from the stories:

A three-year-old North Carolina boy who went missing earlier this week told his family that he “hung out with a bear for two days.”