Little black book.

Okay, it's medium-sized. And, it's a actually a binder.

Physical descriptions and technicalities aside, this book contains many memories and representations of my childhood.



My mom gave this to me on my 21st birthday a few years ago. She printed pages upon pages of documents that I had created from the ages of 5 to 12. I re-discovered this as I have been packing up my stuff, getting ready to move.

As I flipped through the pages of this book, I remembered all the countless times I would sit down at our beast of a computer and type my little heart out. I remembered being inspired by all sorts of things. Some things I wrote were, surprisingly, not bad for a kid. But, some of them were definitely kid writings. Let's have a look, shall we?


This one was titled "The Burger of Burgers", subtitled "A burger is a burger is a burger". Really must have wanted to drive a point home there, with the title.




This might reveal some things I was dealing with at the time I wrote it. I'm guessing my age was anywhere between 8 and 10.






I tried my hand at creating a faux menu and menu items. Who wouldn't want to eat at my place??? That's right. Nobody.




Better keep your nose in those books, kids. I'm keeping tabs on you, and you're getting graded.



I wrote songs to Jesus.




This is, by far, my favorite thing in the whole binder. "The House on Maple Street", subtitled "...it was the perfect liftoff".

It was a bit of a science fiction/futuristic tale. I just now decided that I need to actually share some of this text (to maintain the integrity of the text, no grammatical corrections have been made...ON PURPOSE):

"After having an ice cream and a glass of java Zach felt sick and had to be flown to a hospital. It was June 11th when Zach died of being exposed to c5H2 resin, it was Helen's birthday. The hardest thing for a doctor to ever tell a mother is that their son is dead, especially on their own birthday. To make it even harder is with a cause of death made by chemical poison that could have been avoided, avoided if he had paid attention and watched his father's instructions as the Bible commands. As a memory of Zach the forever standing home was made into a memorial place for young people who died by accidents in the home or workplace. And that wraps up our mystery, why would Harris Burrdick draw such bizarre pictures of flying nuns and harps in the woods other than to try to escape the agony of Zach, his grandson's death. If you can tell by his pictures this strange little man a time traveling grandfather, who drew of fantasy, future events, and odd things of the present."

Written around age 10.



You're welcome, world.