1835 6 2
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And now its done! Five months read! This book is batoning in my head. Its eleven o'clock AM and hot as hell, even the breeze, billowing nets through the sliding screen adds sweat, cuts me down to size. I will needs again to…
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1835 39 14
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Where seldom is heard
an encouraging word
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1835 13 11
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Know what you’ll become? You’ll become one of those guys who masturbates in any single occupancy restroom that locks.
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1835 27 18
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. . . there is nothing so selfish as sleep.
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1835 24 13
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You hear the thrum of blowflies first...
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1835 3 3
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I can tread water like this for months maybe longer
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1834 14 8
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It's not loneliness I'm afraid of. It's how I would be happy to be alone too much.
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1834 2 1
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I can't rememberI woke up in the hotel room lying on the double bed staring at the ceiling. The room was painted white with one window, overlooking a brick wall, shut tight so I couldn't open it. The door leading to the outside looked appealing so I got up out…
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1834 4 1
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Refuse to go to the church service, even though you already missed the funeral. Tell his mother something came up. Call his phone over and over, just to hear his voice, until his mother asks you to stop. Make a recording of his voicemail. Delete it an
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1834 24 11
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whistling some blithering tune, trotting around the kitchen in his underwear with his ribs, a long row of meatless tragedies that screamed for something other than the meal he was making.
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1834 2 1
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She used to think of him as someone to entertain with charming lies, but things evolve in unexpected ways.
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1834 6 2
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Whoever came up with the term kismet is an absolute moron. There isn't a single reason, or word, that can describe what exactly my brain has concocted in the face of him. No, kismet isn't what makes it happen. It's my own stupidity..
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1834 0 0
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They stood before the opened door, where cold vapor seeped out along their feet and chilled their bodies. The Avatars figured this was what the necromancer used to get inside.
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1834 0 0
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Tombstones are only granite symbols of a man’s life, Gus thought as he changed lanes. Children, they were the ultimate epitaph.
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1833 6 5
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At age eleven, I murder the coffee table. I gouge with every available implement: thumbtacks, Lefty scissors, the plastic hand of my Barbie accomplice (who really should have known better). It is a slow death. In the end, there is nowhere to hide the body. When I am…
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1833 2 0
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A Vicious Deer
The man came across the hall to talk to us.
He was buying some paintings.
He had a white deer on a leash.
Fosca (our Malamute) said: “That's a vicious deer.”
She kept putting her paw on its shoulder.
I said: “You bet
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1833 0 0
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The year is 2110. The earth is no longer habitual for human beings. The oceans are gone, the sky is red and irradiated and the last vestiges of human civilian are located within the confines of massive barrier cities. For a century mankind has been at war
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1833 13 4
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. . . she didn’t bow her head.
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1833 21 11
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He hid in parks and abandoned apartment houses until his wounds healed. He ate nuts, berries, and seeds. A shy, gentle soul, he watched children playing on the monkey bars, and thought of his lost youth.
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1833 10 8
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Wake up, stretch. Check the curtained windows for sunlight or
that dreaded grey frame that forces the covers to come back up
and the alarm clock to be set to ‘Snooze’.
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1833 6 2
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1. Think up problems that don’t exist
2. Realize, suddenly, that they don’t exist
3. Elation
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1833 13 12
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But by day the birds / of prey were in control.
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1833 6 3
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Your finger quivers as it writes
Upon me words in water,
Words I cannot read nor drink
But feel them as you drink
Them with your tongue
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1833 12 9
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Harpo sits and looks at something I can't see. I drink beer and ask him questions. I ask him how they found the cancer. Backache, he says. He went to see a doctor.
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1832 29 15
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In a rousing show of support for guns and the owners who love them, the Legislature passed and Governor Greg Abbott gleefully signed a law proclaiming April 15 as Take Your Gun to Work Day in Texas.
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1832 0 0
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In se'enties style serenading strut
A passin all the pretty birds in kin',
The feathered Stetson ‘clipsin crimson suit,
A whistlin Dixie blues ‘cross county-lines.
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1832 1 1
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What? No, no, where did my world go? I was in the middle of… something. What's going on? What's stroking my face?
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1832 6 4
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Gorgonzola. It's what she was to bring this time. Plumtree's potted meat. What it was last time.
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1832 0 0
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This is Chapter 2 of my serialzied novel Girma Dali. The title character reflects upon his youth and the young boy, Benga, who mentored him into adolescence.
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1832 19 11
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It's been sixteen days since I spoke with another soul. I don't mind much, but I know enough about people to know most would think I'm mighty odd. Muriel, for example. She'd be pissed as all get out. …
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