Author Archives: Charles Hess (greymalkn)

A Night And he pushes me out the door And the night weeps on his shoulders And the pavement pools slap at his knees And passing headlights snap a glimpse of him And he hears a tree branch snap, somewhere … Continue reading →

At first, I was a bit iffy about my poetry group with Niall Campbell, not just because the people in the “class” seem to have more experience with poetry than I do, but because my own poetry seems very out … Continue reading →

It’s pretty weird to return to doing rehearsals; the last time I had to do them was for when I was in my elementary school’s production of Annie (I was in 1st grade). It was a pretty shite production, not … Continue reading →

For poets, the audience is a varied group that usually depends on the type of poetry that is being performed. Audiences for beat poets tend to move a bit to the rhythm of the words and sometimes the musical accompaniment; … Continue reading →

I found a rather comical article from this past May involving some very interesting, though unorthodox psychological tactics against rebellious youths. A Belfast police van was “under attack” by a group of about ten drunk teenagers that proceeded to throw … Continue reading →

Place yourself at the window seat of a bus in the middle of a tour of the Antrim coast, the wide sea before you and Scotland in the far distance; as you pass by the numerous glens and high cliffsides, … Continue reading →

Though all of the plays we’ve read since we got here have a humorous side to them, Martin Lynch’s tend to lean more in this direction (while also retaining a dark side, of course). I typically see this quite a … Continue reading →

Nationality, to me, is about as important as political division, the religious spectrum, or the Superbowl; I accept that others think of it as valuable, but I myself choose not to be a part of it. I’ve mentioned this a … Continue reading →

A drunken and unpopular friar that is visiting a foreign monastery argues against the idea of religious asceticism as he stumbles to morning mass. #livealittle

Here’s a little sampler of my story, “With Ale, We Fear No Evil”: “Where, oh where is that blasted friar?” Mannix murmured as he exited the hall of cells. It was a cloudy day, as usual; every so often, the … Continue reading →