The Girls

May you be blessed with discovering a purpose in life. Sadly, you may not be so fortunate, therefore come with The Girls and perhaps your purpose in life just may be found in death, or some semblance thereof...meaningless actions and the abasement of reason...enter into the condition of being nothing...a world of purposelessness and absurdity...with no judgment of their actions, a world for the reader to exact their own "moral" of the story. 

Absurdist fiction in reverse, if that is possible, where there is an inherent purpose in life but not in the very real world of death. Discover now how the afterlife is purposeless and absurd...but refusing to climb out of the grave just for knowing what awaits you back at home? Make sense? No? Good.

THE GIRLS (An Introduction)

There were three of them. Key word: "Were." The Girls, all having died young, one at age 5, one at 13, and one at 24. Dead is dead, as they soon discover there is no possible way out, save unless The Soul Man appears and escorts them from their prison, this standard IOOF graveyard. The theme of the day is "should we stay or should we go?" Should the three make a break for it and return to where their lives served a semi-purpose or should they just bide their time here where death seems to hold no purpose other than just to pass the time by wandering around reading grave markers and bitching about such things as being dead and still having to sh** and pee, being dead and having to digest scrounged berries and lizards, and being dead and having to drink from puddles, and dead, still, while feeling horribly sorry for themselves? Just send them to where there is a purpose, whether here, there, or back home, please! Choose your year, 1898, 1905, or 1984. Follow  Bethel, Lyn, and Lenora as they plot their escape while waiting for the evil one, the "men" they refer to as The Semi-Handsome Man.

Arcadia. Occupation: Nurse. I live with my husband and our two dogs , Smoke & The Phat One. I won't tell you my age because there are those out there of the opinion that someone my age couldn't write their way out of a Walmart bag. Now, does she mean that as too old or too young to be a serious writer? Time will tell. Hobbies: Reading and writing Absurdist Lit and attempting to put a new twist on it, if that's possible. Semi-hobbies: Writing original scripts/plays involving situations which will never occur but society as a whole, I hope, craves. Walking through cemeteries reading epitaphs and names on gravestones, and photographing the few monuments which are accompanied by red-headed, smiling angels. (And no, I'm neither a vampire nor morbid, it's just overwhelming to look at all those graves and wonder what kind of lives they all led.) You'll see, just read THE GIRLS. Sales pitch? You bet! For fun: Playing the drumkit my dad bought me for $35 when I was in 4th grade (and yes, I have a cowbell and I use it!.) He bought it at a garage sale; plus, for fun, swimming naked in our snotty neighbor's pool, after they've gone to bed, and pondering what we can do next that they wouldn't approve of. Dislikes: (just like high school, huh?) Dentists, 12 hour shifts at work, high school, and college professors you catch sneaking peeks at your boobs or crotch, or both. Sports: playing my drums (better than taking out life's frustrations on my husband or our dogs); horse racing, rodeos, and the nephews' summer league baseball games. Things that frighten me: Stephen King. No, not his stories, just him. Tornadoes, the doorbell or the phone ringing in the middle of the night, & MTV: what happened? Goals: To win the lottery and start my own kinda sorta music station. I'd play only live rock (Yes, my parents grew up in the 60s and the first song I can consciously remember is "Squeezebox" by The Who.) My husband asked me, once, what I would do when I ran out of live albums to play on my music station. I replied: Start over. Hopes: To paint like Richard Stone Reeves, play the guitar like Vic Denny, win the lottery, quit my job, and move somewhere that I will never have to endure weather that is ever below 65 degrees nor above 75 degrees. Motto: One foot in front of the other & It's for bigger minds to ponder. (You'll see.) Lemmee see, I have exactly 1777 characters left to squeeze inside this little box, right now! What to say now? I guess, Thank you for reading this far. Yes, my real name is Arcadia...now you wonder why I mentioned horse racing as one of my favorite sports? Think about it...and why some of my favorite movies are Seabiscuit and Let it Ride...if we horse players could just have one day like Dreyfuss did in that movie, we could all die happy the next day...but as for the best movie ever made: Casablanca. I remember my parents making me watch it on PBS when I was 12 or 13...I was hooked, but it took some coaxing, cause it was in "Black and white" and my mom told me "Ya don't know what you're missing by not watching old Black and White flicks." The rest is history. 1087 characters left. Hmm, what to talk about now? I can't say anything about my husband, he said keep him out of it, then he tells me I have twenty minutes before I have to be at work. Ugh, 3 straight days of 8 pm to 8 am...but I love it, just not the long hours. Better wind this up Oh, guess I'll say good-by, but before I do...can we give it up for Hugh Howey? Come on, finally, someone has come along and leveled the playing field. Keep up the good work, Hugh...we peon writers got ourselves a voice now...finally. Thank you again for reading this far...and look, I still have 490 characters to go. I guess now is when I get down on my knees and beg you to read my novel. Come on, gimmee a chance, cost me $249 plus $19 for my ISBN #...and that wasn't money we had budgeted for this month. Thanks again for reading my sordid little bio. Arcadia