1421 0 0
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"They don't know how this formed or how it got to where it is today. What we do know is that it's not going to last forever." Said Edward McCabe to his daughter who hadn't learned to talk but communicated with her father through her agreement or disagreem
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1421 9 6
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A break from bleak world history and events...
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1421 11 6
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Heel to toe, our bunions
are our ingrown medals.
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1421 3 2
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Friday night in Little Italy is a big night.
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1421 3 2
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And, if you look real close, you see there’s a bullet hole next to his left ear. A stray one went past his head and straight through Santa’s heart.
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1421 3 2
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Little things that kept me going are no longer doing the trick, and venting to someone eventually drives them away. People around you know what is going on, but there is little they can do. They stay away at more than an arms length and you understand. Tr
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1421 0 0
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the warnings we fear are the selfsame ones of ourselves
of our vertical need to be first to the heights redoubling
its intractable charm of production— our inheritance.
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1421 12 7
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We eat, sleep, play Scrabble on our iPads, and go down to breakers at sunrise and sunset. The sunset is spectacular.
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1421 9 7
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she had a chipped tooth...
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1421 6 4
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and coughed its grey net over the candle lit world outside. Birds of an arrow sprang into thin air and disappeared over the hills in a quick shortness of zoom-breath-- like a stiffened branch snapping . It's cold. There're …
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1421 2 2
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Steve lowers himself onto a lounge chair and lets out a long, overdue sigh. Cliff and Jim, the frickin’ and frackin’ of the built-in pool industry, are making a Burger Chef run while the cement sets.
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1421 8 4
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Do you know this song, Julia? I happened upon it one evening and only just before meeting you, a month before meeting, a month before arriving?
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1421 3 4
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“Fine, Tony, fine. I'm brilliant . How many times have I got to tell you my name is Donald now. All the time you're with that disgusting, “Donnie,” a grammar school name. Get some class. You own the matzo factory now. You're not just another…
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1421 6 4
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The rocks were pillows around her shorn head, the crimson stream running from her ears the only sign she had not chosen to lay down on them. Behind us, the rockface stood stoic; below us, the water lapped our feet.She held my hand in hers, giving me succor as I…
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1421 6 6
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Then I did the same to you, inhaling your scent which was one thing at your hairline and another at your collarbone.
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1421 3 3
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I’m reading an article about honeybees as I wait for the results of my blood work at the doctor’s office.
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1420 6 1
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The city had a way of going silent. Not a nervous silence, but a quiet silence. The sky was dark, yet everything was colored in a yellow hue cast by the arched streetlights. Buildings, parked vehicles, walls, pavement. Cars and scooters and ambulances and police cars…
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1420 2 2
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It's one of the most difficult problems of aesthetic philosophy: What do we mean when we say that a song is sad? None of the big names--Aristotle, Kant, Croce–Benedetto, not Jim–come close to answering it.
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1420 8 6
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I am falling, falling out of my body,
falling like midnight onto mice.
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1420 3 2
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Rose was the easiest lay in the Fletcher Memorial Home For The Aged.
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1420 17 11
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I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body
nor decode the secret softness of her neck.
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1419 0 1
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So, I say, what is the answer?
The answer to what?
You know. The song by Bob Dylan. The answer is blowing in the wind. You’re the wind. So what’s the answer?
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1419 3 3
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You’re finally in a band that can get through a rehearsal without someone strangling someone with an amp cord over creative differences. No one’s in jail, rehab, or MIA from a multi-day booze binge. The group has laid down a few quality tracks that don’t
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1419 2 1
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Up ahead I saw clusters of people standing silently under the trees. They seemed to be just waiting there. More than 100 people lined up in the cold and dark, not moving.
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1419 1 1
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The clouds cried more than silver tears,
this time.
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1419 4 2
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One evening I came home late from work to find my wife drinking white Zinfandel by the fireplace in the living room and reading Wallace Stevens poems out loud to the dog, curled at her feet.
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1419 7 4
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1419 0 0
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His mother hated blue jays, hated them with a passion she usually reserved for no-count trash who drank beer on their front steps and worked on their cars in the street.
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1419 8 6
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Before Genesis, digesting the primordial soup.
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1419 3 3
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I kill because I can’t stop. I kill because I can.
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