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Irrational Obligations In honor of National Pi Day Any excuse for a circle, a way to pinch the day. They are calling it something like a celebration only with bigger words and too many numbers to count. We'll have to approximate the amount of joy …
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Unlike me, Gino could walk up to a group of unattached women, say something sensitive and thoughtful like “Hey, hey, hey!”–and suddenly the fun would begin.
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Ever the chance we were given, with luck always, fate. At least we engendered the song and the drink. Having sailed from the goddess of sensual love, having the best throw that beauty allowed, now you can call it will, though some will call it hate.
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Finally he painted his own chair, maybe because no one would sit for him anymore (after he cut off a piece of his own ear.) The chair centered and framed so that one leg of it reached down to the bottom of the painting, seeming to be skewed a little, ou
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When it was time to leave, she lingered beside you,
bidding you to come again.
I flicked my cat, dog tail, indifferent.
She wanted to lick your cheek.
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Lucy shrugs into the corner of the train's seat. She envelopes her IPod in both hands as if she's praying or holding a conch shell: safe, secure like when she visited a Morcombe beach in the school holidays. The only giveaway's the white headphone cord.
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I have reasons to believe she’s been stealing.“
“Stealing what?”
“Steaks.”
“Steaks?”
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What do you do when someone’s in love and you know it’s wrong?
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for Tracy ThornYou don't need a song about fixed stars, you needa reason to be glad stars are here. Themoon's always been around, but not always like the friend you want,until now. Don't throw it all away becauseyou are too sad to care. You've come into your own. Allthings…
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A couple, an unlikely match, came together for a brief interlude of time. It was marked, almost a kind of bar code; beginning, middle and almost end. Almost end was not "the" end because it was seemingly fated that they continue the journey through life, if not together, at…
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Influenza Jones knew she was Moses. Reborn, of course, because the real Moses had been dead for longer than Influenza could remember. It didn’t matter that she was a woman and Moses was a man, she knew what her body say and her body say she be Moses. Sh
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I knew nothing about the letter at first. When I came in that morning and smiled and said good morning, it was a genuine smile and a heartfelt good morning. But the letter, which had arrived the previous afternoon, was already doing its corrosive work of
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Other men looked up and, rather than feeling pleasantly surprised at the sudden sound of ethereal metal crickets in their presence, left the restroom after hastily finishing their silent shaking. Mitch joined them, feeling like a coward for being afraid o
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Gossamer wisps bloom in the barren air.
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Sounds like something a woman would do.
—You think so? said Ben. What woman would do that to me? I don’t know any women in Nice.
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I give you three words
dripping wet with whatever and you
take them, harbor them...
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...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
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Be aware the dog is king, radiant, emitting many beams, renewed by and restored by his fullness, his satiety. In many ways underlying all our hearts and minds, out of our notorious youth, ever the flower of our flesh on fire like a little reed next to the dried…
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The little notice talked its trash, a J’accuse!
“Posted: For Non-Payment of Dues.”
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Life ascends gradually—just like they always said. I stop counting on immediate transformations—the overnight best-seller, instant enlightenment—and instead focus on what I can do: Writing a little each day and making it to Mass on the weekend. I even giv
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like they are trying to not get noticed by fickle death. It clearly marks them in a targeted way. Very ironic. Here's the only message I want you to ever have from me : quick, scramble like a monkey with a stolen banana in your tiny hairy…
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We were in love with the same disease.
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The story itself is not much longer than a snippet. What is a snippet anyway?
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say no / to me / and devastate me / and I will take it / as god's will / to drown me / in a vat / of my own / entrails
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I began to imagine the shadows, so rectilinear, were arcing and flowing. I saw shoulders moving, the sinewy upper shoulders of wolves running in a pack. . .
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"They treat us like shit," the mathematician said. "They think they can just take us and electrocute us and drown us."
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My brother Herb married his high school sweetheart right after completing college. This was a girl named Beryl, whom he'd met originally in Mr. Reinert's marching band at York High School in Elmhurst. I remember one day in particular in the middle of the
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