1666 2 1
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Once a month I fuck the boss. It’s not part of my job description. We have a meeting in her office, after thirty minutes she opens the door to what appears to be a storeroom but is actually a well-appointed fuck chamber ...
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strobe lights wash me up and down
and here is the hottest mad dancer of
the early morning black and loaded
rushed into a freeze frame
...Also link to the song "Nope"
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By: Roz Warren (and Janet Golden)I'm a humor writer. My work appears in publications from The Funny Times to The New York Times. Janet is a history professor whose writing was confined to academic journals and the occasional op-ed. Driving back from the Jersey shore one…
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Warning: contains sexually suggestive comments.
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He had thought of the walk down to Mrs Greensmith’s shop when he and all the men beside him reckoned they’d “had it” that time when II SS Panzer-Division had fought like gods for Hill 212.
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I’ve done my part of the job in conservative clothing. Lonnie’s done her part looking like Dolly Parton.
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Why would anyone stash a used condom in a Bible?
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1666 8 2
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Liszt, Piano Sonata in B minor. I don't like it but I can't stop listening. It doesn't fit my mood, or the high plains landscape, or the early evening, pink and blue, pastel colored sky.
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the urgent, naked glow of opportunity
or
the dim fluorescent nuisance of an object out of reach
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People usually take fonts for granted.
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Writer Marion Winik has ridiculously bad taste in men. She's an intelligent woman and a terrific writer, a good mom with a good heart, and ALL of her romantic relationships are train wrecks.Winik recounts her quest for love at age 50 in her new book, “Highs In The Low…
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// opening act: van featuring balloon featuring drugs
// headliner: lubv ya babe
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Hey, how are you? she squeaked.
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I can't find my way back to the library. I've heard of this happening, that if you leave even for just one day and for a very good reason, as good a reason as mine, you may not find your way back. Now why should this be so? I do not understand this library. It houses…
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I arrived Sunday evening to a darkened house. Everything unplugged. Even the fuses from the breaker. Meticulous, this undoing. Silence has a sound. Cold has a voice, a pearly cigarette whisper. It says, “Metaphor?”
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Your girlfriend with the Dresden blue eyes with the sleek belly & gorgeous scars from ripping off Avenue A dealers has you on a leash of short-term amnesia. You can't recall the last time you got off from being trigger-happy inside her & you formed a…
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This is the world of an urgent art,
the room silent, except for the constant
sound of the camera.
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“I wrote a story about you today.”
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They coo and gurgle in the warmth of twig and down. They are so delicate, hard to look at without thinking of death. I tell them I want for them chief among all things strength, speed, resilience.
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1665 2 0
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Though some days... I feel as though I'm nothing more than the ultimate hedged-bet should the offender be living out his last days on earth, holding my arm as we both feel our way through the long dark corridors of tragedy.
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1664 1 0
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Peggy woke up in the bedroom smelling burned pumpkin and she instantly knew her husband Tim had remained unconscious and insensible on the couch again and let the candle burn down. She and Lennon had watched him the previous night take control of the…
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It’s an almost mystical experience, walking in the warm, radioactive rain. It’s a rare moment of peace, a gathering of breath before the next storm, before the next wave of panic, before those frozen in shock come to themselves and rush through the stree
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1664 1 0
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The way I felt was as though you were, every day, making the conscious and deliberate decision not to be with me, not to share your life with me—and not to share my life, that you were choosing not someone else, but something else.
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Revocable Love It was easy lying there with My head on her left breast Listening to the strong Business-like beating of Her heart. She looked down and said Quietly, I told you my love Was revocable. I give it To many men and then I take It back. …
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contact.
intimacy.
human
fucking
connection.
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He extended his bent arm to its full length with a crack, straightened his hunched body and tried, and failed, to close his lips over his frightening grimace. Stone lips are not pliable.
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There will always be some
who misread the dance
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One day we turn a corner, and two fat little doggies spot us and come running up. Oh, they are so glad to see us!
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You load the pipe and suck in the fireworks. Whistling missiles, slithering sparks, shivering teases, dripping embers. You fall asleep with flashing neon outside and the Fourth of July in your veins. When you wake up, your room is the saddest place o
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