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Bill Watterson isn't just the creator of the world's best comic strip. According to the book “Looking for Calvin and Hobbes,” a biography of the elusive and reclusive cartoonist, Watterson is also a world-class introvert. Watterson refuses to make…
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She crossed the room to a tub in the center, the great woman with flowing locks of bronze, turning the taps until a heatless white became warm enough to bathe in. She added soap of some kind and the light became the bubbles,…
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174772
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The screams and howls of other people's children set him on edge. But he struggled to stay cheerful. They had season passes, so the visits there cost nothing and it had consequently become a weekly tradition to go. The children had not, as far as he could
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Katie loved butterflies. Katie loved daisies. Mainly, Katie loved presents.
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130672
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Dogs will hump anything. Cats do not hump.
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62970
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Back in college I had carnal knowledge
of a woman who danced bare-breasted
and frenzied as a Bacchante.
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150076
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Butch the Labradoodle sets some necessary boundaries.
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101673
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I was in a Chinese restaurant
trying to read the menu
when I realized Hunan
was only 1 letter off of Human
I thought it read Chicken Human
This was just in a dream, so I ordered it
It was delicious, but kind of salty
Then someone at ano
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124177
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If something hurts enough/
you never forget it. Like the//
toothache when you first learned
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136675
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Why flash?because the moments, the moments, they pass in flashes of brilliancethat shudder, death glow alightand nothing makes sense beyond nowand nothing will help me but meand I am not even enoughnot my thoughts or your nod of assentor even the deep sigh of…
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my God, I have no time, no time
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She realised that things you can't prove can be more intimate than the things you know to be true.
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The window washer started saving pigeons whose feet were wrapped in fine black thread, the result, he informed me, of picking through trash bins. They are very intelligent, he went on to explain. (Right, trash bins, I thought to myself.) People tend to av
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90977
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It's true. I like to walk on the ceiling. But please. Don't hold it against me. The ceiling is cold. Nobody lives there. Just a spider. A curious arachnid. She lets herself down sometimes. If I'm on the bed, trying to sleep, staring at the ceiling, watching her…
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...a falling forward that is sometimes so material that you get a look at your shoes as you fall past them...
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She tells me I have to face the fact that I have the heart of the Tin Man. I know the story. He had none. She is very sensitive and I have to measure my remarks because words bruise her so easily. So, I…
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would absolutely love to hear from you singing as careless as a cat choir as you make your fingertip wishes well known to the dishwasher night,want you to be ever so playful with your environments as you please. While (those)…
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Regime is elected officials ignoring constituents, ignoring protestors, ignoring history
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I enjoy the walk through these crowded woods. It's good to be back among deeply seated young and old trees again. That familiar smell, you want to always savor it so very much, to not deny any of it. It smells like a blue sky, the…
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Smoke is pouring outta my ears! (And outta my mouth and nostrils, but that's normal.) The Fast-o-matic Supermart has changed their coupons. Now you can't swap them for plastic surgery. So all those tubes of New Orleans-style Cottil-i-Lard dog sausage…
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If I wrote a war novel my wife would be killed off before our relationship figured out our differences. Like her being really Asian and me being just so-so Asian.
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159073
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Why don't we do it in a yellow submarine?
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121875
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And right there beside me
That single wobbling
Snail-like trail of my heavy
French Horn case
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We exist to facilitate/
successful conclusions of hopeless lives.
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We walk in silence. We water our plants. We don’t eat as well as we should. We try to love. We try to forget.
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The officers carried him away in cuffs as he yelled "I NEED STATS! PLEASE! JUST GIVE ME THE STATS!"
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130172
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This is what it is to feel yourself forget.
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110773
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Lullaby for a dragon baby who breaks the bough with bottled fists escapes the armored cradle stealing swords from terra cotta men to slash the Ming canopy and loose the butterflies that will free
Ho Chi Minh from the fire.
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Used to be I'd keep busy. Dreadful the time I spend sitting, standing, staring. I lose track, now. I believe it's because he died. It gets hold of me. I'll see him half on half off his bed, a plaid blanket angled over his back and legs, held…
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Lucy entered the open door next; she had been inside the cat litter house before: Brother Fran didn’t bother to cover turds he’d laid. He spoke of the outdoors: lizards he’d separated from their heads, world of work.
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