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I visited his loft last week. There were many exciting new pictures. Francesco was your main money earner before, now he will be again.
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They continued sitting by the fake oasis, drinking single malt, eating soy crackers and chatting about the quality of escorts in glitzy glamping resorts. The Paring happened on number three. Just as the gold leafed chocolate fondant oozed decadent Bolivia
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THE man in the tent with the stick points to the chart on the wall and says to us all: the stats point to the end of the war by the end of the fall. A just war, not just oil. Just then Allah's shadow comes over the scene. He's here to stiffen his troops with some …
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She couldn’t help but wonder what 93 year-old Sohrabjee looked for in the torn, dusty lithograph of Marilyn in Persia one of the orderlies had stuck to the wall of the corridor outside Jasmine Wing decades ago.
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We gave our cigarettes names.
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“Buy Shoes On Wednesday and Tweet at 4:00” is a new advice book which tells the reader the best possible time to get everything done, from flossing ones teeth to visiting Zanzibar. As a public service, I've used the information provided in that book to create an…
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In the summer of 1963 I went to Philadelphia to study with a member of the Philadelphia Orchestra.
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—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.
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In the end they talked a lot, shared what they could, both seemingly trying to rekindle something that was no longer hot, and yet they could not let go of each other. Year after year would prove that. Right then, just then, it seemed that the physical par
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Here’s a picture of you
Lit up by the internal light
Of the moon. It was a
Super moon that night
And the story of God
Had not been told
And we had to wait a good
Long time to hear it out in the cold
And I was the King of Fishers
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What happens in life when no one is watching?
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Another run-in with the police happened one night in Elmhurst. I was seeing this girl I'd met in my Shakespeare night class at Elmhurst College. She and I and Andy and a friend of hers, I think, were parked in front of her house, drinking a six pack of beer when her…
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That morning in the driving rain a sequence of automobiles appeared on the streets in the region with headlights in the form of television monitors
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She was the darling girl, the blond with the great ass, the small tits and the flashing green eyes who could quote poetry, who wanted to be a singer, who collected fireflies in glass jars, hoarded pieces of broken jewelry, and watched heat lighting dance
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We'll all face the raging river, some sooner than others.
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a ruminating marsupial? if so,/
I guess I’d be a kangaroo, the cud soured/
and pasted to the tongue . . .
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Thus does time fly and we with it.
Because time flies on the cosmic scale, curious things inevitably occur in local circumstances.
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We ask was that me? The one on the corner with his hat tipped to the jaunty side? I've wore hats, I've stood on corners. Am I not jaunty?
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The litany of tough decisions scrawled on. Stencil Gucci on no-name jeans. Buy cheap chocolate and scrape the name off. I looked over and watching the saliva encrusting in the corner of Larry’s mouth, my heart sank.
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You want L.A.? I’ll give you L.A. Land of the perpetual one-night stand. Land of the Leslies and the Sweets lying around all day in their bed just around the corner from this convent across the street from my apartment that took in the pregnant and the lo
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~our silly cosmology of visceral pleasure~
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As part of an online writers ”interview” series, I decided to deviate a little from the norm and do my first interview with our housecat, while I await my first ever conversation with an actual human.
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“We wouldn't mock the recent Tornado victims, right? Why mock the mentally ill?” Jennifer Donnell, Fictionaut Member. The mentally ill are close to my heart, having helped the most severely impaired adults and…
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When they first brought me home, I was their pride and joy. Then, one day, they put me in this wooden box.
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The Guy Behind Me
only had one item.
And he looked too young
to fully grasp
Loneliness.
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It was a battered, creaky, rickety old thing, this wheelbarrow. It had two wooden handles with cracks running through the wood, a fat rubber wheel and a deep tray encrusted with the mud and plaster and grout that it had transported through decades of heavy use. Based on…
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