1792 6 6
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There is a push-up on the ceiling. I don't know how to get it down. I've tried hitting it with a broom. That just made it blow steam. I asked my wife, did you do push-ups on the ceiling? She did. Why? It's easier up there. The cat doesn't bother me. Well, you left…
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1792 12 9
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His knife enters the Maui onion. He minces garlic and applies heat to pan and melts sweet cream butter and browns the garlic first and then he adds the onion and more heat, but it's time that will surely caramelize them. Salt and pepper and splashes of wine for the pan and…
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1792 4 2
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While I was still new at Black & Twigg, shortly before Thanksgiving, Percy brought me a handwritten memo to type, the subject “Turkey Hunt,” addressed to all Black & Twigg employees in the San Francisco office from management. It said that the firm…
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1792 13 12
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the world slips under the waves
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1792 2 1
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[CAUTION: "DISINTEGRATION OF THE FUNCTIONING PSYCHE," IS, APPARENTLY, A "DEEPLY PERSONAL" EXPERIENCE!"]
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1791 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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1791 6 4
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To hear my name, called out across the Roman stones on a bridge in Regensburg through the languid March drizzle,
was to breathe again as my head burst through the water.
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1791 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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1791 10 9
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It was all I was convinced / in designing the encounter.
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1791 6 5
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The bar sounds grew (as bar sounds will) until everything rushed together -- clinking glass, tinkling ice, laughter and zippers going down then up.
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1791 11 9
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"Jesus was a zombie?" I ask, shocked.
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1791 1 1
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He shivered in his robe and pajama pants as the showdown with the piggy bank continued on this dark winter’s night. He couldn’t resist the cute dots for eyes, the stubby legs and perked up ears.
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1791 2 1
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The air has its dark confessional, and I have mine. Hot is called raw by some, hate mixed with malice for others. I am only separated by this dark window of time from you, but you never feared the lovely or the lonely.
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1791 14 7
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where is the magic at?
the spit
the dirt
or the words?
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1791 8 7
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We want our lives even-cut, …
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1791 16 10
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1791 18 14
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Also in development,/
the anatomically perfect robot/
pool boy and naughty maid,
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1791 11 9
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He asked me to bury him in Vegas.
Instead, I had him cremated in Trenton.
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1791 15 13
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We lived on the edge of a tiny Iowa town, and picked corn fields were steps away.
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1791 1 2
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It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t great. And it never is with people.
Except..eventually..when you meet the right person..it is.
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1791 5 3
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The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue just came out, and all over America librarians are flipping through its pages and rolling their eyes. The swimsuit issue, which isn't actually about swimwear at all, but, is, instead, about young, beautifully shaped female…
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1791 15 14
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I bear the wrong gin. Your air conditioner runs cold. It is either frigid or off, the gauge broken. You are not too old to overlook these things. You can't be choosy, but you will never beg. Just an occasional choice as you settle into this…
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1791 10 6
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He is drilling the door of a safe to access the keys he locked inside.
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1791 7 8
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of any cautionary tale is somewhere found rolling around in your own sweet voice for me. Your sound's still listing there inside my wobbly head. My head is too often in my open hands, grinning behind its face-mask like a parade on…
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1790 6 2
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1790 5 5
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How would you like to leave the land of your ancestors, the place of your birth, the home of your identity?
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1790 5 2
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1790 0 0
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Under the dirty orange glow of sodium streetlights, the glistening pavement looks slick, but it’s only just wet. The mid-November temperature is cool—quite mild, actually, for this late time of year—still hovering in the upper 30s—so far posing only the
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1790 3 2
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Hair today...gone tomorrow
The sun beats down
on my balding crown.
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1790 3 0
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Warren Jeffries had called me on the phone the night before and said, “Listen to this,” as he held the receiver out his bedroom window at the noise coming from the riot on campus. They were spraying gas over People’s Park, trying to get them to disp
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