Dear Diary,
Dilford. His name is Dilford Johnson.
Yes, he is charming.
Yes, he is handsome.
Yes, he has a sense of humor.
Yes, he is absolutely vile.
Another day has passed. Charlotte seems to be only two steps away from enthralled with this new man. What is to be done? I tell you, Diary, anyone, what is to be done??? I must be his end, but by what means? The butterflies are of little comfort, and offer no collaboration. I feel as if I am all alone! Can't anyone think of a way, some possible way to whisk away the attention of the stunning beauty before me?
Anxiously yours,
Colin J. Horriburt
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
February 17th
Dear Diary,
A hindrance! An obstacle! A spider's web, it seems!
There is another young man at work here in the Menagerie. His name is Dil Johnson. He is charming and funny and the worst thing in the world. He makes her giggle. He makes her laugh. He has only been here a day, and has captured her attention!
I plan to kill him. Perhaps not, but believe me, I am very upset!
Yours wrapped in envy,
Colin J. Horriburt
A hindrance! An obstacle! A spider's web, it seems!
There is another young man at work here in the Menagerie. His name is Dil Johnson. He is charming and funny and the worst thing in the world. He makes her giggle. He makes her laugh. He has only been here a day, and has captured her attention!
I plan to kill him. Perhaps not, but believe me, I am very upset!
Yours wrapped in envy,
Colin J. Horriburt
Monday, February 16, 2009
February 16th
Dear Diary,
Forgive me, oh sweet, sweet thing, forgive me! I have been remiss in my upkeep of this space. I let almost five days go past with not a single word written down! I am a pathetic being. I beg of you, forgive!
My work and the Butterfly Menagerie is going quite swimmingly. As I alluded to in a previous entry, something has indeed caught my eye and lifts my soul on the gentle wings of our colorful friends. Yes, whenever I see her walk into our delightful atrium of humidity (for the butterflies, of course. They must enjoy the climate they are in) I feel as those everything I am escapes in a single breath and floats on into the sky. In her little pith helmet, her cargo shorts, the khaki, pocketed shirt with the sleeves rolled up, True, it's the same outfit as mine, they are uniforms, but it puts me in a dizzy.
You see, I was performing my morning duties admirably, scraping the crusted butterfly leavings off the lower branches of some of the flora, when I heard a chorus of angels singing. "Hello," she said. I turned and saw the most beautiful creature God had ever made, then placed in a faux safari outfit. "I think that would be easier if you used this." She handed me a sharp tool, and I handed her my heart. Well not literally, that would be messy, but I am sure you understand. I took the tool. It worked much better than the un sharpened pencil I was using.
"My name," I wheezed, "My name is Colin, Colin J. Horriburt." She gave a small smile, the corners of her mouth lifting, and bringing my soul out of every dark memory with it.
"Hello, Colin," she replied. "My name is Charlotte, Charlotte Rosemary."
My memory, since that moment, has only been a blur, hence my lack of updates. Only the future is before me now, and a future I hope to share with the time stopping Charlotte Rosemary.
Ever yours in ink,
Colin J. Horriburt
Forgive me, oh sweet, sweet thing, forgive me! I have been remiss in my upkeep of this space. I let almost five days go past with not a single word written down! I am a pathetic being. I beg of you, forgive!
My work and the Butterfly Menagerie is going quite swimmingly. As I alluded to in a previous entry, something has indeed caught my eye and lifts my soul on the gentle wings of our colorful friends. Yes, whenever I see her walk into our delightful atrium of humidity (for the butterflies, of course. They must enjoy the climate they are in) I feel as those everything I am escapes in a single breath and floats on into the sky. In her little pith helmet, her cargo shorts, the khaki, pocketed shirt with the sleeves rolled up, True, it's the same outfit as mine, they are uniforms, but it puts me in a dizzy.
You see, I was performing my morning duties admirably, scraping the crusted butterfly leavings off the lower branches of some of the flora, when I heard a chorus of angels singing. "Hello," she said. I turned and saw the most beautiful creature God had ever made, then placed in a faux safari outfit. "I think that would be easier if you used this." She handed me a sharp tool, and I handed her my heart. Well not literally, that would be messy, but I am sure you understand. I took the tool. It worked much better than the un sharpened pencil I was using.
"My name," I wheezed, "My name is Colin, Colin J. Horriburt." She gave a small smile, the corners of her mouth lifting, and bringing my soul out of every dark memory with it.
"Hello, Colin," she replied. "My name is Charlotte, Charlotte Rosemary."
My memory, since that moment, has only been a blur, hence my lack of updates. Only the future is before me now, and a future I hope to share with the time stopping Charlotte Rosemary.
Ever yours in ink,
Colin J. Horriburt
Friday, February 13, 2009
February 12th
Dear Diary,
Gracious! What a day! I have managed to fill the needed position at the local Butterfly Menagerie. That is my good news for the day. I also have GREAT news for the day. As I was assembling my tiny net for the orientation seminar, I saw her— yes, the new object of my affections, the veritable apple of my eye! A great light has manifested within my chest, and for the moment I feel nothing but wonder and ecstasy. I hope the feeling does not last too long, I often must remind myself to breath in such a state!
More tomorrow.
Yours in success,
Colin J. Horriburt
Gracious! What a day! I have managed to fill the needed position at the local Butterfly Menagerie. That is my good news for the day. I also have GREAT news for the day. As I was assembling my tiny net for the orientation seminar, I saw her— yes, the new object of my affections, the veritable apple of my eye! A great light has manifested within my chest, and for the moment I feel nothing but wonder and ecstasy. I hope the feeling does not last too long, I often must remind myself to breath in such a state!
More tomorrow.
Yours in success,
Colin J. Horriburt
Thursday, February 12, 2009
February 11th
Dear Diary,
A day of great consequence, today. My job hunt, or, that being my search for a new movement in the symphony of my life continued with great success. When I opened my local news periodical, I found a rich field of opportunity simply waiting for me to harvest! I thought to myself, what field of work could best be served by my skills and talents?
I have three interviews tomorrow. One for the rag boy position at a dog groomers, another with the local butcher, and third was described less as an interview and more of a "skill application" exam for the local butterfly menagerie. I am to bring a tiny net.
Well tomorrow is a new day, dear diary, and I am sure it will hold much excitement.
forever yours,
Colin J. Horriburt
A day of great consequence, today. My job hunt, or, that being my search for a new movement in the symphony of my life continued with great success. When I opened my local news periodical, I found a rich field of opportunity simply waiting for me to harvest! I thought to myself, what field of work could best be served by my skills and talents?
I have three interviews tomorrow. One for the rag boy position at a dog groomers, another with the local butcher, and third was described less as an interview and more of a "skill application" exam for the local butterfly menagerie. I am to bring a tiny net.
Well tomorrow is a new day, dear diary, and I am sure it will hold much excitement.
forever yours,
Colin J. Horriburt
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
February 10th
Dear Diary,
A new birth! A new day! I woke this morning, the sunlight trying its noble best to sneak through my bedroom blinds, to the world anew. Indeed, yesterday is over, and a new life begins.
If you feel that your memory must be refreshed, dear diary, then I suppose I will cater to the need. As you may or may not recall, I decided last week that I would live for the weekend no more. I would be a slave to the machines no longer. I would quit my job. The idea struck me like the sent of a skunk to my fragile nose as I was standing in my place at the iced tea bottling assembly line. Why on Earth, I said to myself, do I settle for this meaningless work? Why do I willingly come here to spend hour upon hour screwing the caps onto the bottles of terribly produced dirty water that even the most liberal of tea fans would be hesitant to call it iced tea in reality?
I decided I had had enough. Come that Friday (because I hate the idea of working half a week, it seems so uncivilized), I would march into my boss' steam room of an office and shout: "Mr. Donkin! I, Colin J. Horriburt am sick of this menial existence! I want to live, don't you see? There is so much to the world, so much to me that is unconfined in these barely recyclable glass bottles. And so, sir, consider this my abrupt and declarative resignation!"
And so I did. The weekend was a blur of emotion. Monday I was too exhausted by my own elation to even get out of bed. And so today came, the first real day of my liberation! The opportunities were thick in the air.
In short, I spent the day job hunting. We will see if any of this proves fruitful.
A new birth! A new day! I woke this morning, the sunlight trying its noble best to sneak through my bedroom blinds, to the world anew. Indeed, yesterday is over, and a new life begins.
If you feel that your memory must be refreshed, dear diary, then I suppose I will cater to the need. As you may or may not recall, I decided last week that I would live for the weekend no more. I would be a slave to the machines no longer. I would quit my job. The idea struck me like the sent of a skunk to my fragile nose as I was standing in my place at the iced tea bottling assembly line. Why on Earth, I said to myself, do I settle for this meaningless work? Why do I willingly come here to spend hour upon hour screwing the caps onto the bottles of terribly produced dirty water that even the most liberal of tea fans would be hesitant to call it iced tea in reality?
I decided I had had enough. Come that Friday (because I hate the idea of working half a week, it seems so uncivilized), I would march into my boss' steam room of an office and shout: "Mr. Donkin! I, Colin J. Horriburt am sick of this menial existence! I want to live, don't you see? There is so much to the world, so much to me that is unconfined in these barely recyclable glass bottles. And so, sir, consider this my abrupt and declarative resignation!"
And so I did. The weekend was a blur of emotion. Monday I was too exhausted by my own elation to even get out of bed. And so today came, the first real day of my liberation! The opportunities were thick in the air.
In short, I spent the day job hunting. We will see if any of this proves fruitful.
An Introduction
So this is a creative exercise. I thought that it would be interesting to create a character and write daily entries into his diary. So it's all made up. I want them all to relate, so while there may not be what one would consider a "plot" or "storyline", they are all the same person and his adventures. I have no idea where it's going to go or if it will be good, but if you feel so inclined, please post on entries and such.
To be honest, folks, I can't promise it will be any good. Entertaining, hopefully. And fingers crossed that I am able to keep the creative juices flowing enough to have a post everyday.
And here it goes.
To be honest, folks, I can't promise it will be any good. Entertaining, hopefully. And fingers crossed that I am able to keep the creative juices flowing enough to have a post everyday.
And here it goes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
