Hello everyone, everywhere,

Well, it started snowing. I knew it would. No sunlight, just grey sky. I haven’t been feeling very well the last few days. I’ve been really ornery. I’m in my own world right now and Michelle can’t get to me. I just…the change of seasons or something. I go through it every year. That’s all.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.



Gone is such a relative term. The small town of Plenty of Falls is where the tale begins and ends.

Jimmy James was nobody better than anybody else. He blended in when nobody was looking. Sometimes he would go to a mall or a busy place and just stand there and close his eyes. It was all too much to take in.

Jimmy James Hudson’s passion was so deep, yet boundaries were in place. He lived, and then he didn’t. It all depended on the song. Fool on the hill? Perhaps. Eccentric? Cavalier? Ha ha, with a boisterous laugh. No denying it, Jimmy James Hudson was more than a going concern.

But he isn’t gone.  Morning. Sunlight warms the panes of all the cold windows and all the cold faces pressed against them. Jimmy James Hudson decides he is very tired. No sleep will come to comfort him. So he throws some stuff in a bag, smiles like he does, and leaves.

Who would know this better than me? I would know it because I’m…

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


I always start out with ‘Hello everyone everywhere’. But today I’m sending this message out to the world. This site is global–I hear from people all over the world about my little stories, and I said to Michelle that maybe I should just stop this. Maybe this is a waste of time. But then I realized that I’m an artist and that’s what I do: I play music and I write words. So in essence what I’m saying is, I will never stop and I will never ever give up. Because stopping means that they win, and we can’t ever let that happen. Their only message is kill, and our only message is live. Who do you think is going to win? They have woken the world. They have made a mistake. That’s all.

Until we meet again, everybody just take a moment, close your eyes and your thoughts if only for a moment…and rest.


Sunrise scene

Hello, this is Les Slogamin. I’m sitting on a porch in Happy Falls. Yeah, that’s right!

I was watching the news like the rest of you. Here’s what’s up with me. Muslims all bad? Well that’s crazy talk. Slow down. Don’t hurt people whose only crime is…what?…they’ve known you since you were six?

It pisses me off, all this ridiculous killing.

If I could slow you guys down for just a moment, I would sure as heck say that we all, like you, come from somewhere. You do not have to give your young and precious lives to a cause of…oh for however sake…stop! This cannot go on. When you young people are through destroying beauty and lives, sit down with your guns and bombs and hide in the dark as you do, killing souls. That’s what you’re doing. Killing souls. Pardon me while I spit and clear my eyes. But you have no right…NO right! to take a soul you cannot explain. Damn it and damn you. True hate survives in the ignorance of those who translate love to hate.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

Hey, this week has been a complete turnaround. I walked into the studio this morning with the guys. Stephanie and Tom were in front of me and when they stepped aside, I could see my beautiful drums. They are awesome; I was not. I’ve been playing electronic drums for three years. They’re almost backwards to an acoustic set, so this is an adjustment. A loving adjustment, but an adjustment still the same.

Michelle and I are having a great night putting out this new story. Unfortunately for Dean, we’re laughing at him because he’s sick and he’s wearing his hood in the house. Har har on that one. But I brought him chocolate and I’m hoping he’ll be a bit happy.

On the other hand, for myself, I’ve got a clean bill of health. Aside from being a couple of notches off centre, I’m healthy as a horse. Pretty much. Give or take…you know, fibro…stuff like that. But nothing to worry about.

Okay, enough of that garbage. It hasn’t snowed. I’m still smiling. And so is Michelle. And even Dean, (even though he’s sick and wearing his hood).

Aside from that, I guess everybody’s starting to get ready for you know what. And that’s all the thought’s I’ve got today. My eyes are doing better. There will be a new picture soon with my new glasses on. I’m just not ready yet.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. I want to present a new story this week. A little tale called The Lesson. Enjoy. And learn.


Man on Bench

Bernard A. Cromwell, of no fixed address, walks at night. Nowhere in particular. Downtown pavement mostly.This night though, is different. Bernard just keeps walking until he ends up at the entrance to O’Myer Park.

Bernard A. Cromwell is a wary man. He has to be. If you knew all the people who have done him wrong, you would be wary too. (If you aren’t, you’ll get blamed. Oh yes you will).

Now Bernard likes the night. So a walk in the park with lights on the bridge and such makes him smile. (Sort of).

He decides to think some things out. Get all of his water buffaloes in a circle, if you get the meaning.

As Bernard walks through this majestic park, he has one thing only on his mind. How has he become this sad sorry lot of a fellow?

Old Bernie thinks about losing Debbie Flatts. That guy Melvin stole her from me for sure back in ’68. All Bernard A. can conjure is, Oh yeah. I came to Debbie’s parents’ house for her mother’s birthday. It was a killer. I was drunk and wore my pants on my head. And she dumped me! Can you believe it?

While bopping his head on a tree, Bernard thinks, In hindsight, maybe swimming on the dinner table might…just might is where I’m going with this…be wrong?

Now don’t get me started on my boys. They humiliated me on my greatest football play ever. I mean ever.

Bernard thinks, How could they laugh at a great run? Forty-two yards to the end zone. Yahoo! And wasn’t touched once. Clearing his head a little, he remembers why he never got tackled–he went the wrong way. Oops! Bernie’s done thinking of that tale. (Lousy 1968). 

As he makes his way home, Bernard A. Cromwell is thinking on this night’s events. Well he thinks, Maybe…and I’m saying only maybe…I learned a lesson.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

This week started with my band, Soulful Noize, in the new studio. Unfortunately my drums have not arrived yet, but the studio is phenomenal. There are some quirks that need to be fixed, but they are getting done quickly. The people that put this together are just fantastic.

Also, I had my other eye done. Cataracts are gone in both eyes and I’m 20-20, but I still have to wear glasses for reading. I told a woman today that I was sixty and she didn’t believe me! I almost had to pull out my ID. It’s hard to be old.

The story that I’m giving you tonight is the conclusion of The Hedge. It’s the short version. The long version will be in my collection which I hope to be publishing soon.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. And now may I present…



And now we are going back to…the hedge.

Oh, Davey Kufnik did see the hedge looking at him, and the hedge was wearing slippers. Well folks, to be honest, it wasn’t the hedge wearing the slippers and hedges don’t have eyes, right? Oh no, these eyes and slippers belonged to none other than Lucinda Dorsett Lugnell.

Lucinda Dorsett Lugnell —age 77. Height 5’ 2”. Grey-blue hair and little beady eyes hiding behind the oddest looking glasses, and a sneer to go with them. You know what bugged Lucinda? Kids bugged her. Cats, dogs, and birds bugged her. In fact, everything bugged her.

Lucinda had her own gang, the Buttersweet Lane Ladies’ Bridge Club. The Buttersweet Lane Ladies’ Bridge Club consisted of Lucinda and her friend Nettie Phelps, who had a severe case of nervousness but she did always listen to Lucinda’s grips. Then there was Wilma Slinkin. She was seventy, but she was a real spirited woman. She was Lucinda’s real crony in this gang, kind of like the second banana. And finally little Penelope Beanslow. She was 72. She was little, but she was feisty.

As Davey walked away to get his gang, Lucinda laughed to herself from behind the hedge and walked back to her house to wait for her bridge club to arrive.

Promptly at 6:59, the rest of the Buttersweet Lane Ladies’ Bridge Club ladies arrived at Lucinda’s house. Lucinda said, “Girls, let’s give these kids a scare. It will be a riot.” They all agreed to stand behind the hedge. Scare ’em good and send ’em packin’ down the street.

Davey and his gang sent Donny out on surveillance to see if the pair of slippers and the eyes were still at the hedge. When Donny returned he said, “There are four sets of eyes and four sets of slippers! And the hedge was laughing!”  Davey mulled it around and remembered. Every Tuesday Lucinda Lugnell and her friends play on a bridge or something like that.

Now he knew there were no laughing hedges so he figured they were trying to scare them. Davey grabbbed his dad’s hose and sprinkler, and as he got close to the hedge he let her go. The girls started yelling and screaming and ran for the house with Lucinda Lugnell shaking her fist and yelling, “As sure as this is 1955, this isn’t over!” (But it was).

Davey’s gang all laughed. The case of the hedge with eyes and slippers was solved.

That’s all.

(Never ever give up).

By jamesghutcheson