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Writings
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"My entire philosophy boils down to these few words—A head with a closed mind is a pumpkin." — Andy
Please take a moment to browse Andy's online offering of excerpts from his books, his poems and letters by clicking on the appropriate selection. All material is subject to the Terms of Use of this website.
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I Accuse the Church and the State God is not the truth- the Truth is god Just Another Man A Story of the Nazi Massacre of Kalavyrta Bedtime Stories
Andy's Other Writings ... An Excerpt From: "A Routine Misdiagnosis" “Sweetie, we need a breather from all these guessing games. Let’s take our minds off my skin for ... hey, how about a romantic evening out?” I says. “Well”—a long pause—“well, alright. I suppose dining out once in a great while wouldn’t hurt.” We hit an eating establishment on the main drag. No sooner I step inside I feel I’m way back in time on account the bar’s packed with old broads in beehive hairdos, chunks of phony jewels, and basset hound kissers. “Set ’em up, pal,” I order the barman. “A coupla martinis on the rough, hold the olives, onions, all the stuff you got soaking in pickling juices, okay?” A black personality’s banging on the piano while a ripe tomato, in a deep voice, her eyelids drooping behind foot-long lashes, is moaning, “You must remember this, a kiss is but a kiss ...” I take my Kathy’s hand and lead ’er to the dance floor. “Keep on crooning, lady,” I says. We hold tight. “You stood by me through thick and thin. Now, angel, no tears, no heartaches, we gonna dance as long as my legs can carry me,” I says. Her beautiful blue eyes turn moist. “Oh, silly boy,” she says and puts her finger on my lips. “I wanna be absolutely clear on one point,” I says. “All right, what is it?” “Way before I fly off into the mysterious unknown,” I says, “in fact, way before I start sliding downhill fast, swear on your mother’s grave that you’re gonna place an urgent call to Jack Kevorkian, send ’m first-class roundtrip fare, tell the guy I need ’m to come at once. If he’s busy or in jail you gotta take my ailing ass direct to Holland for the ‘So long, it’s been a nice trip while it lasted,’ injection. Now, you promise.” “I do.” Suddenly, her eyes turned bright. “But, baby, I feel it in my bones, deep inside my heart, we’re going to lick this thing together. In fact, I know we will,” she says. ------------------------------- Page 1 | 2 | 3 |
About the Author
Andy Varlow lives in San Rafael, CA. A father and grandfather, he was born in Kalavryta, Greece. Through his autobiographical novel, Andy told the world the horror he endured as a child when the Nazis massacred one thousand males—men and children—and burned down the town. Read Andy's Full Bio -- Email AndyAndy's Philanthropy
Read about Andy's generous donation of land to the Tomales Bay State Park |