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Speeding Down The Freeway Listening To ZZ Top

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I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.

9/11

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He laughs and runs just like the other boys even though he doesn’t have a father now, just his mom.

A Writer’s Ramble

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In every writer's room there is a bogeyman born in the closet, growing with every blot on the virgin sheet, feeding on the pain of writing, of solitude, the failure, the rage, the confusion, the helplessness, the fear, the humiliation. The narrower the…

Note to Vera Wang

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Vera Wang I saw you on Oprah today girl. Oh no no no.

Side Effects

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When the medicine started to interrupt her sleep, she made elaborate breakfasts – sweet potato pancakes, crepes with homemade cream cheese filling, omelets with spinach and brie, hand-rolled croissants stuffed with bittersweet chocolate. It was in those e

Sleepless #3

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My ex-girlfriends live in a pastel-drenched cabin on the edge of a hemlock forest in Canada somewhere,

Frances at Virginia Beach

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My husband waits for him to hurt himself. The boy drinks red wine between movements, Staring hypnotically at the back Of a girl’s head.

Fireworks

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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

One of Us

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“We’re starting to get into weather control,” Mark said. “Can you really do that?” Rachel asked, trying to sound supportive and not skeptical. “There are people out on the west coast in Seattle, who’ve been experimenting with it,” Mark said. “Bec

Marion Winik Has Kissed A Lot Of Frogs

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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…

Axiology and Semantics: Expiration Dates

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In my seriousness I am not making the case that none of “this” (our contemporaneity, our historical moment) “matters”.

LECTURES

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LECTURES A Bra Burning When Freud painted “Envy,” the women collapsed, holding fans to their faces. Hot that year, they retired to the Tyrols. 50 Days of Palindromes Although Thiebaud painted cakes like women,…

The Burning of Deyrolle or Losing Hugh

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Deyrolle, established by the granddaughter of Jean–Babtiste Deyrolle, to house his scientific debris became a Paris fixture. A museum masquerading as a store and when casually mentioned in HG or when it was discovered that David Sedaris was an aficionado

Down on the Street

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dirty-pretty

The Last Time

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Stalks were scythed to submission one stroke at a time

Love Lost

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She came to my house late that last night and shucked off her things and we slow-danced to Cruisin' as beaded rainwater slid off her black hair to the floor. She smiled an almost quizzical smile as she drank me there with her eyes, as if I was some…

What I'd Like to Say is That Something Special

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that doesn't need any words to arrive fully formed, or too many words to be believed in at all I should say, a little something we can simply send back and forth across your time and my space without having to talk at length about it, but being a …

Missing

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... he led what might be called a quiet life

11

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eleven o'clock spills despair all over our bedspread

Wandering the Streets of Fitzrovia

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I’m deathly afraid of the pub crawls of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia because of the ghosts of alcohol already etched inside my veins and the headlong loss of oxygen

What's Cool about Getting Old

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My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.

Like Virgos

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-- All the guys who hit on me are Virgos. -- Like Gary? -- Like Gary. -- How could Gary be a Virgo? Look what he did with his hydrangeas.

Owl, Glass, Deer

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He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.

His Father’s Statement

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He didn't want to read his father's statement. Yet still he lingered, poised over the kitchen table, where his father had left it.

Heat

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Flames dance behind glass

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 3

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It was like watching one of those vintage eighteen-frames-per-second films of someone trying to open a stuck umbrella.

The First Day

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One sentence

Robert B. Parker we’ll miss you.

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Summer nights in Boston, old cast iron streetlights.

Let the shitbirds fly

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Ann had the vague idea that they would get it all worked out, and somehow, by tonight, she’d be in Robert’s arms again, and he’d be the old Robert, the man she’d known 15 years ago. She had no way of knowing, of course, that a Robert was going to

Seasonals

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Jasmine as skeined skins… of liquid hers, by willow courts, the lychee's water wains: as apple-moats flush fawn in russet light, through cherry floats, the leopard-dots of dawn. Branch to branchlet green …