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The Oaten Hands

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His hands were like that when he was born. No one really understood why. Neither of his parents had any body parts made of oats. Neither of them had even eaten any oats the morning the conception took place. But sure enough, when Edwin MacGrain was born o

The Case For Foreign Independent Flicks

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I cannot make love to a woman who looks like David Byrne.

Latte Art

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The barista with the fake rainbow nails and amazing cleft. . . .

The Five Stages of Editing

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The recent release of my debut novel alt.punk was extraordinarily exciting; however, maturing the novel from first draft to publication was not without editing pains. Similar to the Kübler-Ross theory, I progressed through what I refer to as the “five sta

Live Sacrifice

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I don’t name the dog but the fish requires a name. Animals that do not get eaten must be named. The dog is still on the menu.

You can't always get what you want.

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Sally was bathing Homeless Hope in her bathtub when the phone rang in the kitchen.

Night Visitor

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The tapping of hard soles moves slowly but forcefully away from the front door and toward the kitchen. Johnny looks at his dinosaur as if its spiked tail and plates of armor will protect him. Clip clop. Clip clop. The footsteps circle the kitchen. The bac

In Dreams

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I always wanted to head on up to New York City and be taught by a decent painter, but as time kept on trucking, it became clear that that was just a big dream that would not shake out and I'd never be a real artist because I was shy of the money I'd need to stay up there in…

Hazel - alt.punk excerpt

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This is why people go into work one day with a shotgun. This is why people turn to the masses and drink Kool-Aid. This is one of the reasons behind Chuck Palahnuik’s conceptualization of Project Mayhem.

Solzhenitsyn Jukebox

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A retired feminist literary agent named Jackie and her boyfriend, Jock, were on board. Jock was kind as one might expect of a man traveling with a feminist, and Jackie was happy yet stern. She mentored me one day over lunch.

The Day After Falling in Love

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The day after falling in love, I became unmoored from everything familiar.

Who Do You Say I Am

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You’ve gathered in church to wait for Jesus. Unarguable signs have let you know this is the day. This is the day of the second coming. This is Judgment Day. It was a no-brainer to wait at the church.

And We Are Laid To Waste

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August 14 I remember the smell of fresh air. The feeling of clean air in your lungs. I haven't had that feeling in quite some time now. I guess few people have.

Overboard

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Six months ago, Gary hired a goateed designer to "defoliate" the office, trucking out all the ficus trees and spanish moss to make room for curved sheets of fiberglass and, as he called it, "negative space." Now, her voice echoes off the concrete floors.

Proper Grammar

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Another thing about Dysthymia is how I get locked into a thought, a needle in a record of a song I can’t get out of my head, a song that drives me crazy until I hear it again, until I play it just the amount of times to where my brain is satisfied.

HOSE-WATER CEREAL AND DAY-OLD SCONES: A SINGLE STROKE SEVEN MENU

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Gas station mart generic whiskey that smells sketchier than bathtub moonshine. Don’t worry about liver damage or going blind because you won’t be drinking it. You’ll need every drop to disinfect cuts and wounds since you and thousands of others in your co

Road-trip

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She is thinking about her baby, the one she loved for exactly one month before she lost her forever. Now, all the love for her baby is coiled in the pit of her stomach and it has fangs and venom, and it is leaking into her blood, her bones.

They Don't Call! They Don't Write! But at Least they Have a Dog Blog

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“I spent the best years of my life raising you, and now that you've grown, I never hear from you.” Sound familiar? That's the “Mom's Lament.” Mothers have been kvetching at their grown-up kids like this since the beginning of…

End of Chapter Questions for an Imaginary Textbook

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Describe how like or unlike a vagina a peach pit is, using no anatomical words.

Arcana Magi - c.29: Without a Fight

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Alysia lifted her head and felt Reya wipe her tears away. She looked at her friends and smiled a little. Happy that she was not alone.

Saw Her

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Just like that. He heard her words clearly from the top floor of the five story apartment building. The unexpected change in weather made it mandatory for him to open his window.

The Unknown Substance

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Mama's good at finding things, but hardly ever what she's looking for.

City Crossing

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Maybe we all met, somewhere, in between streets.

inevitable

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The Planet Will Be Fine without Us

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The planet will be fine without us as it was/ when the Permian extinction made the goo/ that made the Rockefellers wealthy.

Why Dogs are Men and Cats are Women

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Dogs will hump anything. Cats do not hump.

Arcana Magi - c.18: Me?

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Alysia slowed down for a moment. She clutched her head again. She looked up and found herself at a playground. There was a familiarity in the air.

Thicket

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Through the window, I see the police. Lots of them, trampling down the blackberry brambles. Something reeks.

BEYOND THE LANE

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She learned the difference between listening and hearing, between looking and seeing.

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served On Tiny Plates Along With Matching Pretty Teacups

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The Gothic-filigreed gate creaks as a guard closes it behind the little girl in the ruffled dress. Standing there in the morning fog, on the sidewalk outside the reform school, she looks remarkably like Shirley Temple. Dimpled, chubby face. Pretty, party dress. Her…