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I don't know when it was I first stumbled across your blog. I know I definitely must've followed the link on your twitter profile, but how I found you in the first place, I have no idea. But fate works in mysterious ways, I suppose. I remember I then visited your blog every…
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We now live in post-Postmodern Absurdist fear of course, says our smiling Prof. That’s the price we pay he tells us. . . .
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He thought she should have come with an owner’s manual
So he would know how to operate the equipment
It was definitely more than he bargained for
Or knew how to handle
She was too hot
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Pringy practices an aesthetic variant of the “muscular Christianity” that is a tradition at Groton; a program of Sunday poetry classes for boys who violate the school’s ban on swearing.
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In the privacy of a booth?
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So this is what hate feels like. I glare at her, across the room standing there with him. Tall, blond, slender, perfect complexion, adorable smile, and bright eyes; and him and his lean athletic build, soft square jawline, charming smile, deep blue gree
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They followed the crow up a hill, where lights were at its brightest below. The teens stood frozen in time.
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Chuck woke when he smelled cooking.
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Mort’s hand-mind suffered electrifying-absence-emptiness; no wife.
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This will be the century of infinite sadness,/
sadder even than the Twentieth/
with its expansive catalog of horrors.
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angels give them names of important people, people under the control of evil demons whose influence must be negated at all cost if humanity is to survive into the future and achieve its ultimate potential.
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our eyes misted white as goatskin
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Licking my wounds.
That's what my mother calls it. I'm not really sure what that means or if it's true. Sure, losing your boyfriend, apartment and job in a matter of months can drive someone to do something impulsive. Something crazy. But I've always b
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“...you should have something moving around here.” Tracey looked around, then said, “Paul, you should get a cat.”
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That evening she sat on sofa and sniffled and twisted her handkerchief with her fingers. I decided it wasn't the right time to show her the picture....
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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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My wife says you can tell the crooks from the cops from the cowboys at the taco truck across the street.
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I'm gonna go find a hole to dwell in
deep in the mountains where the Indians used to live
dig a cave into my subconscious
learn to be less secretive
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... he could feel the pointed picket spears.
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Black bugs are falling, fluttering down
like big, black snow flakes.
Two bugs, almost always,
sometimes only one.
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He can become anyone. If he wants. He'd rather not but it's not his choice.
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You master their secrets. Mirror adjusters... Air conditioning knobs... Fuel door releases... Changing their satellites to Mojo Nixon. But you never really know them.
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Well, yeah but no one that wasn't pointing a gun at me, mostly. I shot at a lot of people but there were only three times when I can honestly say I know that I blew someone away.
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If there was a single constant in the boy’s life, it was that he had always thrown knives. In his youth he had thrown them only in his mind . . .
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"Your loss," she cackled, stumbled to the bed in the corner, hummed a tuneless song, and began snoring, too.
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Oh Triple-Crownéd who evades my sight,/ Guide me down proper crossroads in this life/ As you have promised to grant me your might/ And make of me eternity's fair wife.
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The purple sweater brought out the blue in her eyes. Fantastic eyes made of ice, she was a stunner, and she knew it. I met her at Slabtown
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The voice on the other end mumbles, not forming words, but I understand: I am to be the starting third baseman for the Detroit Tigers.
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