1701 6 0
|
The two walked around, taking in all the classics: the imported Russian matryoshka dolls of varying styles and bright colors; spinning tops, red Radio Flyer wagons, kaleidoscopes, and wooden yo-yo's invoked memories of Christmases past. The hand-stitched
|
170111
|
“Man, that Fats just nothin’ but a powerhouse, nothin’ but ‘Jesus Rolled Away the Stone’ and them Cats his apostles.” La KeeSha replied, “Ya’ll a real Blues Daddy now.”
|
170010
|
[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.
|
170099
|
Requires one of those leaps.
|
1700139
|
Writing as a form of imaginative hatred
|
1700147
|
|
170096
|
Some nights you really feel it.
|
1700107
|
Look at her. She doesn't want to be here. The kiss and “wouldn't miss it for the world” was as empty as her crossed arms, crossed legs, and jittery foot were loaded. She attacked the foam of her latte with a tiny red straw. I wanted to scream. Complain about the…
|
170097
|
They rise up, a sullen, sorrowful/
army of reproach, staring,//
stone-faced but eyed with fire.
|
170000
|
And the ocean was black and green and blue—as your dress that clung to your body’s curve. Round as the bend of the water trailing the false line of the shore.
|
169921
|
‘Miguel! A pint of Guinness, please!'
I might as well have asked for his mother's immortal soul. A smile as benign as a stiletto. But he served a clean and tidy pint.
|
169933
|
Everyone was shocked when they heard Tinkerbelle was six days gone and had got so heavy she couldn't fly. Who could have done it, everyone asked, but Tinkerbelle wasn't telling. So no one knew. That isn't true. I knew, and in this Declaration I swear I will tell…
|
169985
|
When the malady struck and the world fell dark at noon, she and I groped the walls and found our front door. Outside, bewildered, we heard the whine of jets in free-fall, explosions in the imagined distance. And we heard a car — or was it a truck that veered…
|
169900
|
Dr. van Roos reminded the group that trauma is trauma...
|
169965
|
There is an empty space,
between every note in rock 'n' roll,
where they have buried John Bonham,
|
16991516
|
He didn't hide it. He told her he was a mortician when he called. He had responded to her ad in the Lonely Hearts section of the newspaper.
|
1699138
|
Every morning if I don't have to go potty....
|
16991414
|
A wrinkled man lie atop an ivory-clad mattress, matched sheets covered his body, matched hair covered his head.
|
16991012
|
A cult is one thing; it defies common sense that a commonly educated person cannot escape cultist thinking and belonging. That cult, A.A., is girded by police, fire, therapy, hospitals, insurance companies, and courts.
|
169980
|
The serious writer looks back on a long and distinguished career as an herbologist.
|
169921
|
Everybody knew it would happen. It didn’t happen exactly when or how they thought it would, but nonetheless it happened.
“I told you it would happen,” a bearded man told his wife.
|
169923
|
Mr Robertson chuckled gently as he caught the aroma of freshly cooked cinnamon doughnuts and watched the oil leave its fingerprints.
|
16991211
|
|
169965
|
The robot may be grabbing onto something so big I'm mistaking it for the countryside, or the sunset. I could just be one cog in an infinite chain of leg-attachment, stretching from the cosmos to the sub-atomic.
|
169900
|
Frowning, loosening a purple tie, Tony pushed through the golden revolving doors of a skyscraper. He drifted into the crowded midtown street as if in a daze. He was roused to his senses as his cell phone sent out the melody of his wedding song.
|
169800
|
Her mouth was sour; her forehead was still damp with perspiration. She leaned against the bathroom wall and noted her complexion had gone pale. She wanted to slide down the wall and rest until she felt steadier, but…
|
16982520
|
I read my book of names. Over and over again. Our name appeared in the newspaper 254,991 times between 1896 and 1944.
|
169833
|
The next thing we knew, the KGB started tailing us everywhere we went. They must have heard about Lenin’s Paintings, was all we could figure. Because, what if they were real?
That night we went out to a pizza place where we saw the worst graffiti in t
|
169820
|
There's this sepia-toned photograph, which my mother gave me, of my brother and me when we were still both youngsters. In the picture my brother's dressed in a skimpy checked suit whose sleeves were already too short for him — on its way to becoming my
|
169843
|
"Hey, man. All we represent to them, man, is somebody who needs a haircut."
|
