AuthorBenny Greeno

An Edinburgh Quartet

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I suppose it starts with jazz, as all good tales must. I’m in Edinburgh, the day is July 25th. After a supper of Indian food in old town, I cross the street to the venue of my night’s entertainment:...

Infirmum a loco

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(1)I was only forty minutes away from the house that I was raised in. Lying on a beach. There was nothing disrupting the blue of the sky except for the pale disc of the sun. The temperature was mild...

Imaginary SIR, or Ma’am

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In chapter eleven of the instructional section of Stephen King’s book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft —the only King book I’ve ever read—, he expresses his belief in an unattributed notion that...

Spotlights

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If you watched me do the dishes, saw the way I stacked the plates and bowls first, then ran the water. If you could see how I did laundry, how I remove every fold, every crease, while the clothes dry...

WORDS FOR THE MINISTER

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For the first half of my life, both sets of my grandparents lived in Sarnia. When my mom, dad, brother, and I went to visit, we would stay at my mom’s parents house, and spend some of the time...

Never Again

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Success has changed. From the age of five until twenty-three—eighteen critical years— the terms and measures of my success were summated into a quantitative report delivered right to my person...

Confessions of a Young Driver

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In the hallway of the driving school that I attended at sixteen, there was a poster that said the school’s hope for their graduates, with their newly gained knowledge and skills, was for them to be...

I have no plans tomorrow. Right now it’s Wednesday July 14th, 12:43 AM. Tomorrow is here. When I got into bed not long ago, it was yesterday, but after lying sleeplessly — my mind flipping as though...

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