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At the edge of the forest, his sister began to complain about how everybody—their mother and father and all of her friends included—hated her. It was exasperating, the light she sometimes put herself in. The fact of the matter was that she received more
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The commandant pried her lids open with steely thumbs.
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I remember how silk felt against skin, dressed in my damn flimsy things, while the cold bit my nipples. How I would lie in your arms when I was young, after being awakened from my pubescent slumber. (Enough of that!) In a rush to grow up for good, holdi
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contact.
intimacy.
human
fucking
connection.
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I'm trying to make love to her but she wants to talk.
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His velvet mouth, shaped perfectly to intertwine with hers, teases the space between them until its caress finds her.
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I recognized the smile. It was a “I’ve got you where I want you now,” smile.
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the little crummy salon that churned out little fat women with pinked curly hair
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On a street-lit night in Jeddah.
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and you imagine euthanizing them if what she says is true, that she is leaving them to you in her will.
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Remove with care, then slowly lay the string, wide well-soaked end at left-hand edge, to start, and allow to curve, to bend, to almost loop and wind its way at rest across the mottled, patterned green
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Blinking, Eleanor frowned at the words she’d uttered. They were absurd… foolish. Unequivocally unscientific, but beautiful nonetheless. The notion of the sunless hours embodied as a clumsy artist struck the student as interesting.
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I can still see us sitting, somewhere (was it in a café?) imagining what it would be like if our mutual faces blended into the future (the waiters posing as in a Manet painting.) Putting our bones together, our broad features, Bohemia and Sweden.
Yo
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Then, relieved to have cleared the air, they peacefully returned their way of living.
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For those in know know know there was hint of a wilderness Cadillac...
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The protagonist’s story goes like this:
1.) You are young. You’ll get over it.
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I see my route home through memory and its cataracts.
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Trisha dreamed of being a Playboy Bunny since the days she still had buck-teeth and fried egg boobs. She blu-tacked page threes above her bed-head and had me snap topless Polaroids till they littered the floor. She told me to imagine she had 36DDs and per
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Dutton felt thwarted in his literary career, producing only the classic "Here I sit all broken-hearted, paid a nickel to crap and only farted" in a locker room stall at halftime of the 1963 Weedwacker Bowl.
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We are on Fox River and I am in the dark water swimming naked beside Rick DeMille with my white skin glowing as we come up behind you and Sharon in your dad’s ski boat sitting silent in the water, and I can hear Sharon whimpering, “Oh, Jesus! Jesus!” as
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“You know who Neil Peart looks like?” Gram said, ignoring Aaron's outburst.
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It kind of reminded him of a giant, real life game and not virtual reality. He was weaving in and out of cars so fast that you might have thought he was knitting or something.
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I think for a second that I should have called my husband out to witness this thing, but I am instantly made aware of why I have not.
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Megalomania is a kind of backwards leprosy. It rots your insides out while your skin glistens and grows tighter around your bones.
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I. Happy Ending? Why Not! My wife and I got divorced and my little dog died and I decided I'd had enough of Seattle, so I hopped a boat to Belize, and soaked up the sun and gained back some weight and, by God, I got happy again. And I met this cool…
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He grew up needing an enemy, his class warfare instincts kindled by the death of his father in the labor dispute and bolstered by the readings of Steinbeck, Lawrence, Sinclair and others, and the college-bound students who were particularly bothered by Pi
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The contrast can be summed up in a sip.
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The cold and the ice’ve really stoked a fire in those old bones of his. He runs with the gait of a racer, front legs straight out—each extension producing a crack like Jack London spitting into the cold...
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