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Indianapolis at Dawn | Pendevil's Pad

https://pendevil343.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/indianapolis-at-dawn

Pendevil’s Pad, where written things are often changed and erased. April 29, 2009. I am reminded of a family road trip to Florida when i was in fourth grade. We stopped for the night in Indianapolis and left at dawn. I can’s remember anything about the city other than the door of the hotel, the look of our car in the pale warmth of the Indianapolis skyline, and the subtly southern presence of Waffle Houses. 2 Responses to “Indianapolis at Dawn”. April 29, 2009 at 10:03 pm. That’s beauty in words.

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Praise Poem Eleven | Pendevil's Pad

https://pendevil343.wordpress.com/2009/07/07/praise-poem-eleven

Pendevil’s Pad, where written things are often changed and erased. July 7, 2009. Long time, no write, I know, I know, but I have been writing, more or less! I started writing Praise-Poems to God every night because, frankly, God deserves more than my praise, so I should at least give Him that. That said, below is the eleventh praise-poem I wrote, and one that I njoid in particular. Praise Him for He knows not the hour of sleep. Like a joyful child. Never wanting his play to stop. He made for me to play!

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From Maker to Rubble | Pendevil's Pad

https://pendevil343.wordpress.com/2009/04/01/from-maker-to-rubble

Pendevil’s Pad, where written things are often changed and erased. From Maker to Rubble. April 1, 2009. From Maker to Rubble:. World War Two, Normandy, a platoon ran down an unnamed street shattered by gunfire. One man, Private Whoever, stopped for a moment and noticed a violin. His stop was only mental; his feet were conditioned to keep running regardless of what his eyes told him. How much did it cost, and how did its owner afford it? How many hands were on that violin, from maker to rubble?

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No Wind But For His Wake – conclusion! | Pendevil's Pad

https://pendevil343.wordpress.com/2009/02/13/no-wind-but-for-his-wake-conclusion

Pendevil’s Pad, where written things are often changed and erased. No Wind But For His Wake – conclusion! February 13, 2009. 8211; @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } –. Israel’s adventure of self-discovery continues…. He pushed through crowds of bouncing cowlicks, waves of himself, charged down badly cracked streets. He was panicking too much to be surprised. The others were just annoyed with Israel’s rudeness in passing. There was no wind but for his wake. It was not until Israel looke...

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No Wind But For His Wake – Part One | Pendevil's Pad

https://pendevil343.wordpress.com/2009/02/13/no-wind-but-for-his-wake-part-one

Pendevil’s Pad, where written things are often changed and erased. No Wind But For His Wake – Part One. February 13, 2009. Hopefully you all will feel the same about him! 8211; @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } –. No Wind but for His Wake. All Israel remembers of life in the city is the coffee shop. He doesn’t remember parents or siblings. He doesn’t remember wind on his face or the sun behind branches. Oh, right, that just makes perfect sense. Rawley was always up for a good fight.

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some thoughts on the role of government. | mashmouth

https://mashmouth.wordpress.com/2009/08/15/some-thoughts-on-the-role-of-government

Some thoughts on the role of government. August 15, 2009. Along any line of reasoning, all things come to an original, single Point. So when I was thinking of the U.S.A. today (or, the State), I couldn’t help but track back to the idea of America yesterday. Who is the State? The role of the Government? To answer this, we need to arrive at the original Point of contact. Fundamentally, government is a creation to facilitate societal needs. Is an amalgamation of the smaller many. Order and civility could be...

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Entirely unrevized new story: Hikers | Pendevil's Pad

https://pendevil343.wordpress.com/2009/02/26/entirely-unrevized-new-story-hikers

Pendevil’s Pad, where written things are often changed and erased. Entirely unrevized new story: Hikers. February 26, 2009. 8211; @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } –. There aren’t any trails on this map; it’s useless, Jack said, standing up like an evolving turtle with his tent, water, and sleeping bag belted to his back. Let’s just keep walking north ’till we hit a road. He stood with the setting sun to his left, staring through miles of trees toward what he assumed would be a road&#4...