1682 16 4
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He ran his forefinger round the rim of the lid then sucked at his fingertip. The texture's like chalk, he thought, it tastes of earth. He hadn't anticipated this — but dipped his finger in again and swallowed. It was like scraping his tongue against a blackboard on…
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1682 11 8
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But it all works out. I guess. Truth is something I'm sure I've never seen before, but the more time goes on, the Less I'm inclined to believe in it. Still I don't want To be one of those giving the finger to God And begging for a showdown with an…
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1682 6 4
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Light. And shade. Line and shape. Colour, form and perspective. Wall, wood, ceiling or canvas. Pigment in eggyolk or linseed oil. Stroked by brush or spread by knife. On small panels or plastered on vast spaces. All these problems to be worked over and solved. Then …
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1682 2 3
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But they all know the parking prayer...
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1681 1 2
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["GET UP, GET GET, GET DOWN ... 9-11'S A JOKE IN *your* TOWN!"]
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1681 5 2
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The young girl has given up, and lies sprawled out
upon the yellow cover on the bed, with her blue sarong
wrapped loosely around her body. One arm lay
back up above her head, where it was thrown
during the exertion of birth. Her yellow halo
surr
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1681 4 5
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But the world is smaller when I see it /
from the crook of your neck.
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1681 17 13
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and the mass exceeds the buoyancy/
and gravity pulls you back,
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1681 22 14
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I thought each day died inside the clock.
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1681 12 9
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When did the air become warning?That clairvoyant delft and Delphic sky.What strange and ardent premonitionheld sway? Where were we goingbefore this hard work of constant falling?We were catching cabs and making breakfast,ironing, cursing late trains; hoping the deal…
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1681 13 6
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Men aren't good at these kinds of things, my mother tells me. She states it as if it is a scientific fact.
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1681 2 2
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When the sky was thinner and water faster, we would chase the falling stars.
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1681 8 6
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“No,” he says. A simple lie. “I -” He pushes the sleeping bag off of his legs. Their getaway reset was a mistake.
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1681 6 5
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I have two memories of my dad. The first is a story he liked to tell: So my old woman came home one day with a worm. She sets the worm on the counter and goes into…
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1681 11 9
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What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make?
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1681 0 0
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"Umm... T-shirt, sweats. You know, typical sleepwear for me. I had been in these jeans for the video shoot, but they had to go."
"J-jeans, huh?" Lucas started to falter.
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1680 7 6
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I'm a librarian. A reader. I identify as a four-eyed person. I've always worn glasses. I got my first pair in the second grade. It was a miracle! The blurry world I'd inhabited all my life suddenly came into focus. I could see the blackboard! I could read street signs! I…
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1680 7 5
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I was Orson Welles skulking in the shadows and you Alida Valli;
our time measured like footsteps advancing on Gethsemane.
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1680 7 7
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rump-a-rump, bat-a-tat, barumpabumbum
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1680 9 8
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The giant hurled threats and insults. He brandished a knife that was a foot long.
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1680 14 10
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Sid, the owner of the red convertible, always slept with his twin Lhasa Apsos, Helpless and Hopeless. He was an early riser and took his “girls”, as he called them, out for a brief walk, yes, and also he was up early to take his morning penicillin because he…
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1680 6 4
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And as you try to read, he appears.
No, not in front of you, but somewhere
just behind your eyes. You hear the sound
at the end of an argument, just before
the kiss; you see a shirt fall to the ground
in late summer; you watch him read
as his mouth
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1680 1 1
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Here is “Adrien Brody” through a Freudian lens: Calloway wanted to fuck her father. She flew to New York City to fuck a version of her father who has a name similar to an actor with an interesting nose and a lot of talent. Neither Calloway nor the actor n
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1680 0 0
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Poppy de Witte was content to spend her summers in Cape Cod, where her family owned a small beach house considerably less stifling than their spacious apartment on Park Avenue.
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1680 4 2
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They leaned against the hood of his pickup, which sat heavy on its wheels, the back of it filled with the things that he’d held out of the yard sale three days earlier.
“When’re you leaving?” she asked.
“Early. Get on down the road. Shut ’er down ea
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1680 8 8
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He's not something you'll want, waiting for you, inside your living room's ear. Go and see your family. Breathe the broad daylight whenever you can. I got lost in some free form dog caves. That's all. That's no path to aspire to …
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1679 1 0
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This is about a mescaline trip that went wrong. It happened back in the '60s and I know, the '60s have been done quite to death and nobody ever gets the trip right but--you'll like this one. Joey and…
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1679 2 2
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My future husband is wondering why I'm "taking your crap"
when I'm excellent at standing up to his.
He's cooking dinner in the stylish two story home he owns
and wishing he had someone to share it with,
a blue eyed blonde, but only if she's me.
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1679 6 4
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There were days in my youth when, through no fault of their own, my parents could not drive me the seven mile trip to my elementary school. When I got older they bought me a bike and that proved duly adequate as conveyance. But when I was six years in age
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1679 2 0
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A universe, all of it, was encased in glass.
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