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Music

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Without a creator

In the Film Room With the Big Guy Upstairs

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It was a stupid thing, but one I'd gotten away with before. My bagel was stuck in the toaster, and I probed a knife down into the slot without unplugging the appliance. BAP!—sparks and smoke, and before I knew it, I was dead.

Going Commando

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I have the fear of comedy I have the laughter of war I have the need of a commando To come sack and ransack us Over and over again, O I am a pillow, a rock, an ant A soft Southern deer in the headlights I have the mask of Anonymity Lyi

By the Time the Oceans Rise

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By the time the oceans rise/ enough for Kansans to care about,

John Nixon Cummin' in Matt Hogue.

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[FARCICAL STATUS ... Keep going to Ladd's, you fucking losers! #talesofatwentyFOURyearoldNOTHING]

Rose Hill

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angels and lambs drunkards and whores

Revolution

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Suppose a bowl of mushroom soup. A table and a chair. A woman arguing against the uselessness of war. A bomb ticking in a man’s groin.

But the Heart Loves Chaos

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The mind likes logic, but the heart loves chaos. The light is always on in Reality, isn’t it? Maybe I sought you out to make sense of my life, I don’t know. Maybe I wanted some sense that you were still how I remembered you (at least a little of you tha

Pro and Contra in Sepia Black

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From decade to decade, editorial opinion swings and sways as to whether the fault of volubility resides chiefly with the practitioner or with the lawless company he keeps.

In the City of K.

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I had never been to the city of K. before, having just flown in on business the other night, and so imagine my surprise at seeing my parents, waiting at a bus stop just a few blocks from my hotel.

Excuse Me, There’s Some Suspicious Activity In the Men’s Room?

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Someone has locked themselves in the large stall They’re smoking one cigarette after another And pulling long stretches of toilet paper off the rolls God only knows for what purpose And yelling for anyone who’s outside the stall To go get them

Second Career

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“Just how many different bipeds try to hide their nakedness?” “Only one. And that'd be us, idiot.”, Twinkle responded. “Then, why don't we mind showing certain parts of our bodies?”, she then asked. Twinkle could see it was going to be…

Small Talk

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Popping in to buy a tire gauge. Stumbling, drunk, on your way to buy cigarettes with two cops coming in behind you. You hold the door.

Carriages Wait In Long Rows

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She who is not a widow had once listened to the river repeat its story.

4 Margins

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The permanence of error.

6.5 in Eureka

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Everything moved. I ran outside.

The Unsocialists

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and we’ll have dinner with the head of the Swollen Artists Club and I’ll keep my mouth tied shut with my own tongue

Summertime, NYC

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We would walk to the gallery opening along the Highline, looking in all the windows in the evening, hoping to see life as it’s lived in the moment, the flesh, the mystery, with all the clothes of unreason removed, hoping to see the exposed nipple and the

Red Line

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The train it was Quiet people asleep It was 4:30 am. I lost her face with the wind. She never gave me her I never asked for her Number she …

The Summer Of My Beautiful Idiocy

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In the summer of '68 my father persuaded me to go visit my grandparents on their farm in North Dakota. I had long hair and dressed like a French symbolist outlaw. Took the train to Minot, spent the night in a hotel (watching Your Cheatin' Heart, movie about Hank…

Boxes

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The boxes were unusually flaccid that morning, because of the humidity and the bad weather. The glue wasn’t sticking, and the integrity of the boxes, no matter how thick, were beginning to fail.

The Bar at the Folies-Bergere: a Manet Painting

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The mystery is in the barmaid's impersonal stare. It's all there. Recognizable the bottles of Bass Ale And Crème de Menthe. Glazed oranges piled in a bowl. Two roses in a small clear glass of water. A wide gold bracelet on her arm, halfway

Head Eloquence

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You know I'm living in the past...

Consecutive Transplants

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The heart has always been on the sleeve Tonya really needed a heartShe was too young to knowNever forgetting itMichele found it in paradiseBut didn't know what to do with itWatched it fade awayBobbi could have easily had it foreverBut left it on the…

sweet beast of idle speculation

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So, the sweet beast of idle speculation may be calling my name by memory, because I am capable of feeling, or suffering. I may be a conduit to such, because the rational soul provides the bridge. Some wild ass summoning your name, clean, uncovered, disc

suggestive lipstick

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Maybe in some lie you told, your life began making sense. Not mine. But your quiet beauty may be what carries you. We have to both quit eating Couch Potato Chips, and read the book Tender Is the Squid, instead. Your ghosts – they’re so soft and sensitive.

Introducing Molloy Foppiano

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Before Andromeda can swallow us expand our stars...

A Most Uncertain Fiction

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It is equally likely that just as the rate of melt continues, the rate of melt will also continue to accelerate.

The Year in Blogging: More Than Just Sonny Tufts

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1,919 followers in 105 countries come to this site every day looking for breaking news on the number of white kittens promoters are required to provide Mariah Carey at each concert.

Epistemology (Revised 2019)

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RE: The big stuff: We don’t know RE: The small stuff: Half of what you believe is true but you will never know which half