1716 8 4
|
He had become an accessory to a murder.
|
171631
|
I cannot find my way back to the bubbling navel of the universe because of Spongebob Squarepants.
|
171633
|
At first we thought metadata rich, non-hierarchical, network based, multi-provider filesystems were our future. An arduous journey but well worth the efforts for the beforehand unimaginable user experiences enabled by new technologies that thereupon displaced the…
|
171664
|
And then, and then, and then! After all that, this. After all that bullshit with her Dad, the Associate Principal, the idiotic counselor, and that psychotic police officer, after all that, this: a dead black cat. Blocking her path! Right in the middle of the street! …
|
17161213
|
My wife goes away for a few days to the little town where Hitchcock filmed The Birds.
|
171653
|
The electricity animates my body into myclonic dance. I do not rest. I dance with the demons; I dance with Nijinsky rage. I dance with the fury of Saint Vitus and his wooden cross. My shoes are fashioned with my own fear, tanned and stretched over my feet
|
171544
|
I think of our first morning in front of the mirror and the hairbrush that we shared—the hairs in it brown from you, blonde from me. I miss this day and when I cannot sleep, I watch your window from my room until your light goes out. Sometimes, I can se
|
17151110
|
When her husband left she was not yet thirty
|
171553
|
Although still uncertain of whether she was a she fish or a he fish (she definitely hated being an it fish), the fish liked what she saw of Nags Head. Finally, a world that gave her a choice. And felt no need to verify whether she was a real she fish, or just a he fish…
|
1715188
|
I told him he was just paying for his sins. He gave me a look. "Why me?" he asked.
|
17152015
|
The boys drank in one room. The girls in another. Always the same, no matter the letters.
Greek Letters.
Shabby sofa on the burnt-out lawn.
|
171565
|
Is every librarian a poet at heart? I don't know, but a group of librarians recently put their heads together and came up with these library-themed Valentine's Day poems: Roses are red Your book's overdue You've had it for months Which is…
|
17151010
|
One day we went for a hike. We climbed a small mountain. It’s called Mission Peak. We got about halfway up a steep trail, decided that was far enough. We embraced. She said “I love you,” and I said, “I love you, too.”
|
171567
|
When he took Medieval German Lit in graduate school, Ackermann read Der Ackermann aus Böhmen by Johannes von Tepl. His professor was amused both by his last name and that his grandparents were Germans from Bohemia. Of course, only his grandmother was from Bohemia and…
|
171542
|
So begins your new career in the car service business. In some ways you enjoy it, too. Sitting alone in the cab each day, totally your own boss; you get a surge of excitement inside thinking about the money you'll make in a way that requires so little work. Clearing two…
|
171566
|
He hung up and I sang some whiney lyric about wanting him back. You know the songs that say the same shit: I’m an idiot. Love me anyway. I’m Velcro with nothing to stick to and you’re a nappy surface that gives me a reason to exist.
|
171553
|
Now that school is back in session, we move through our days like cage fighters, tagging in and out of matches: The Battle of the Bottle, The Diaper Duel, The Pout Bout. So while I'm assembling a casserole for tomorrow, Susan feeds Margot. While she washe
|
17141212
|
|
171400
|
Ben tossed the newspaper aside, muttering. Carol, curled up on the sofa, peered past the glasses at the tip of her nose and past the crossword puzzle.
"What?"
"The Brits wanted to fight rather than be taken hostage. They had an escort boat ridin
|
171477
|
My wife and I were looking for a "fixer-upper." We were strange that way. We were leaving a rental which had cat tunnels built into the walls. One villa we toured had a heartbeat. In the basement, in place of a well pump, was a heart made of fibrous roots which had…
|
171471
|
Space, blank, uninterrupted, but then a fissure, a crack, a corridor, and down it you're walking.
|
171483
|
I think I’ll get a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, one I’ll regret. I’ll catch people peering at it, trying to interpret the twists and swirls of the black ink on my fair skin.
|
171400
|
‘They will follow, but we have to go now’
‘Wait , I can see something familiar...’
|
171431
|
It's Granny hauling her crooked soul into heaven. Guess who I stole that image from?
|
171400
|
O’Toole signaled again with two fingers. The night was young. Suddenly I had to go home to my lovely Penny. All I knew was I didn’t want to end up drinking at a hole like this with my head down on the bar.
|
171498
|
. . . catching her breath somewhere between ecstasy and surprise. . .
|
171374
|
not that we ever had before
|
171367
|
"Someone should have told her that less is more..."
|
171397
|
Give me back my / singularity, my tristesse, my photo ID.
|
171373
|
Her skirt is so short, said the teenage girls to each other. I was 7 years old. I said: she looks like a slut. They laughed; I blushed. Later, the slut smiled at me. I tried to find the teenage girls but they were gone. I wanted to say: it's actually a pair of…
|
