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I am a human resource, batteries not included
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Mayumi and Emi were in the spring’s together, center of the pool at shoulder depth. Emi stood in the center, letting its warm and clean air clear out her thoughts.
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It was that pink lipstick found
on the end of that brown filter
yeah, think it was an Old Gold
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Sacrificial vic bleeds out . . .
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Five years ago—or maybe ten—I clipped an article containing a quote that has haunted and inspired me ever since, and tacked it to my wall. Describing the success of diplomats from nearly ninety nations to convene in Oslo, Norway, and agree on the wording
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Bill Watterson isn't just the creator of the world's best comic strip. According to the book “Looking for Calvin and Hobbes,” a biography of the elusive and reclusive cartoonist, Watterson is also a world-class introvert. Watterson refuses to make…
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This was looking down from what we know as The Grassy Knoll.
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Sitting on the couch when we got cable television, on that first day. Pressing buttons that sounded like the slap that your attention span would take as you made your way through the twenty, thirty, forty channels. As you grew older, the amount of channel
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This had the unintentional effect of me picturing her in a tight white top and tiny orange shorts. From up close like this, I had clearly misjudged her earlier. She could definitely be more than the quirky best friend in my movie.
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Today’s new YouTube kitten;
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This morning as I stepped out of the shower I was hit with a panicked fit in which it became urgent that I rid my flesh of each drop of water that burdened it. Not quite like the feeling of being…
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I clearly see the squirrels of
negativity all around me
or at least I sense that
they are there,
filling in the blank spaces
as I read down the page
prior to arriving at
the meaning of everything.
The greenness of figs
before they
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Francesca is a sweet girl and everything, but her incessant doting on Paolo is best left private . . .
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The Chicago to Denver fast train clocked 90 MPH plus, but braked hard on the long curve through town, sparks ringing flanged wheels.
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Fucking buffalo, the curse of the writer.
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Tired, so tired of it all, but oh we'll always go on, won't we, still carrying on about the love the love the love we shared, only again and again. Ooh the oozing life blood is slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly now going to shit I say, practically…
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I didn’t see the little boy run up to Bandit until it was too late. The kid was about four and was excited to see such a big dog. He reached out his hand to pat Bandit’s head and Bandit lunged at him. The leash was wrenched from my hand, leaving a bloody
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It is not unusual to see Göttwigg with his shirt on inside out.
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Now Ninalee gets up from the table. She starts to put some snacks in a bag for Janny and Benjie, and some storybooks in there too, to read to them in the park: books about trains, mostly, and there’s one with a bus and one with a car...
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He had a simple dream: He wanted to become a star, and not one of those tv stars because those die, those die all the time, and before dying they usually become terrible shadows of their former selves, vile creatures who exploit their own former glory...
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What follows is one of those moments, though to some people, it would seem a fantasy, perhaps a "Wizard of Oz" era tale.
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My grandmother is magnificently breasted in her floor-length nightgown.
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When the hay was ripe it stirred and rippled like water.
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I like babies and little kids, more than some people but goddamn, children's laughter out of nowhere (in the night, when you're not expecting it) is creepy. I don't like slugs smeared like nightmare goo on my summer-bare feet, I could do without them in …
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The next moment is a convergence made from a single repeating sequence that disappears behind the voice that tells of it.
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He’s more than a little pissed at all this eternal boulder rolling.
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