1371 11 4
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The goal is to perform along with Jason Lee Norman--who is touring with his book of very short stories called Americas--a selection from my own collection called Country Without a Name. The symmetry excites me.
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137141
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For hours and hours she swirled, and swirled some more. She was trying to be there for everyone, yet no one realized how much pain they were causing her. Some of them had thrown invisible darts of anger all day, and she had endured each one, because she c
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137132
|
—Michiko, are you allergic to cats?
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137120
|
"Already he is running and flying to the center of the world" - Mircea Eliade, about what a shaman is up to, under his mask.
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137100
|
A vanishing of something we never got to see. All we've been left with are impressions, imaginings
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137111
|
#ShortStory #writers
are failed #poets...
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137000
|
You sleep in equative lip biting slumber
hugging a pillow you think is someone else.
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137000
|
Oryn led Ragnorak to a window. It was darkened in the corners with only a red light over the Nocturne.
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137011
|
My anger over yesterday's argument with you slipped from memory when I felt the first of the two hundred bee stings, each tiny jab another burst of brilliant pain, and each little attack another reminder to watch where I'm walking.
|
1370148
|
...she shouted, “Benny!” and slowed down as a hand-lettered signboard proclaiming zukeeny appals cidar came into view
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137000
|
Mr. Skunk looked disdainfully at the window. “When the fuck do we get out of this place?” It was mostly rhetorical as the Skunks were all stuffed and inanimate.
|
137011
|
Thin slices of ruby tomato, red onion, and green peppers joined the bacchanal, wilting in the bliss of chile and cilantro raining down on them.
|
137020
|
I've done the math, it didn't count. All the days and years of endless boredom. Of waiting for the next best thing, trapped inside your mind like a lifetime prison sentence. Maybe one day we'll be free, maybe one day we won't feel so oppressed. But when does that day…
|
137010
|
She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, standing in the shade. Why was she there again? The camera hanging around her wrist answered her question. Right, he had called. He had asked if she could take picture for him and his…
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137020
|
It's definitely not her pretty face that made him smile so quirkily when she returned in the evening.
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13701612
|
Millicent asked me to stop over at her place for coffee after work because we needed to talk. While pouring, she said she was torn about telling me what her father used to do to her when her mom was not around, but she thought I needed to know how twisted her life was…
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137000
|
I’d like to say we didn’t remember the Alamo, but one of ours had to piss. We ran into youknowwho and he was fighting Mexicans and it was so beautiful and there were fireworks, or else it was God’s wrath, or else it was the sky now.
|
136999
|
Although I'm twenty years older than her, my girlfriend has called me "jailbait" for the past year and a half because she says the only way to stop having to share me is to kill my wife..
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136932
|
You may think it's illegal
Well, you'd be wrong, ya hear?
Cause you're just in the wrong
Neck of the woods
And it's legal here
Want some beer?
Yeah, that's right
It's legal here
Don't go opening the door
Any wider, I know
You don't
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136955
|
The redwood trees were taller than dreams
|
136900
|
The Black night reached under his shiny silk jacket
And touched the steamy leather of his holster.
|
136976
|
I feel a hand on my leg, and look down to see the little girl touching the horse on my ankle.
|
136964
|
There are no risks left to take. The notion of solitude hums with happiness. Bees gather particularly good honey and a hurricane stops suddenly, deciding not to embark on its natural terror hunt. And I just keep avoiding the knives, the pills and the…
|
136931
|
I’d say something I didn’t mean, then she’d say something she didn’t mean, and on and on until one of us came up dry and would be forced to—take exception to something the other had said, to take it seriously.
|
136900
|
“Paroxysms, well, what in the hell’s a paroxysm?”
“I think the better question is what kind of name is Gentry, Gentry?”
“Yes, that’s a better question. Do you really want to know? I was named after my grandfather, Ol’ Gentry Jones Filips III. They
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136933
|
. . . we agree that formal standards for identifying literary merit exist and are capable of being discerned, not merely of being ascribed. —but is this itself true?
|
136941
|
Lipstick on the bolt, she told herself, if it's no good in the slot anymore.
|
136911
|
I drink the funeral in a dream. I give satisfaction in voice overs.
|
136900
|
Insterstice: Novelas Four Sonnets Since …
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136932
|
Frank met Angelique Brody on the street in front of his building.
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