Most read stories

Elegy for the Sun

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When winter comes again…

Brocades

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The creatures were thief-walking...

The Things I've Lost

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I might have avoided all of this trouble if. . .

Stuffed Animals

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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.

My Bossa Nova Years

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It is no coincidence that the bossa nova craze coincided with the years in which I achieved my greatest romantic success--first through sixth grades.

This Is How Far It Is

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How long has this been going on? the admitting nurse asks.

Irrational Obligations

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Irrational Obligations In honor of National Pi Day Any excuse for a circle, a way to pinch the day. They are calling it something like a celebration only with bigger words and too many numbers to count. We'll have to approximate the amount of joy …

Call Me

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The woman took a small note card from her purse and wrote on it. She then stood, handed the card to the doctor, and said, “Call me.”

The Little Dalai Lama at Grand Central Station

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He followed me through the crowds at Grand Central Station. Wherever I went, there he was, half my height, dressed in the characteristic gold and maroon garb, with a paper cup of coffee in his hand. He must have sensed something about me. Th

Here is the thing. No one knows what it (actually) represents

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beyond knowing that when it hits you, you've been very much run over, and flattened like a stack of cardboard pancakes. I've seen it all before, and it works all right I guess. But my oh my, my, my oh thank you Jesus, to…

Damien Hirst Burger

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the Tate Modern is like a dungeon!

Assiduity Twenty Six

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Uzma and Luv are . . .

In The Place Between

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We played and had joy. As the seasons changed in that peripheral world, we did not feel it. We only saw the snow a bit, only felt the wind a bit, we were not really in it. We still kept ourselves busy. There was something that I did begin to notice. I cou

Hippie Mix

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Let us talk granola and improvising on the margins of munchies and breakfast.

Will Your Relationship Survive the Holidays?

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For eight years I have been living with a man named Darren Fletcher, who I will refer to as “Bud” to preserve his anonymity.

Geisha Doll

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I imagined cool, wet clay oozing between my fingers when I'd squeeze a tight fistful.

The Anguish of Easter

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I used to be so certain about right and wrong. About choices and their consequences. About heaven and hell and how there was no room in between no space in between no point in between (take that point how you will)

Hello? It’s Me!

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But I surely did recognize Rayburn Moon; Rayburn and I dated for about five minutes back then

City Meat

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Of red snappers, flaccid on porcelain slabs...

Day One

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I lounged in my captain’s chair growing a beard. Things continued in this way and then the president called.He wanted to know the meaning of virtue.

Slightly Damp Clothes In the Morning

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It begins with his positioning.

How To Dismantle A Bell

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Pictures of war correspondents from The Tribune, and colonial photographs in a fruit crate

Mantis

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Sally knows the situation: if your name's on the list you can't come in. If they try to walk past her, swipe their card on the electronic barrier's scanner, instead of a short benevolent bleep and the gate sliding open, it will fail. The hapless individua

gravelortian part 5

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papa wants to dance - the future is so bright - feel good all the time baby

Feb 5

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He peels the garlic while I stir the lentils; he chops the cilantro while I peel kale leaf from stem. Also, the rings. Also, no one is going anywhere.

DOMA Do-Do

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His smartphone rang. A picture came up of him kissing the blonde.

Mud

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I told him that the beehive he had for a brain was overpopulated and that he couldn’t seem to go for one minute without desperately thinking that I was going to leave him when I’m sure I gave him no evidence to that effect at all

Deadheading

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The cicadas hissed and chirruped until the air was thick with a noise like mechanical bedsprings bouncing for the 4th of July.

Closest Living Relative

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Uncles. Cousins. Enos. No matter how loosely a net is woven, eventually the strands come together again.

Hashtagstory No. 1

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#whateverhappenedto #beforesex #whateverhappenedto #duringsex #whateverhappenedto #aftersex #nevertrust[written in August 2009]