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I have, for example, watched Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" 117 times.
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95500
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Growing into a new mold, watching our friendships fall into deep deep holes.
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I leave you because
you violently told me to,
I still love you because
I told you I always would.
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So I licked the Anise from my fingers.
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Without light it is black.
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The Moon The hatch of the lunar module hissed as it opened, a few puffs of leftover water vapor escaped toward them in a sparkling white cloud that rapidly dissolved…
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I’ve been here before.
it wasn’t you though—
it was her before you,
and then she before her …
before you.
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They would ride with a mechanic synchronicity, like schools of robotic fish, and appear and disappear suddenly, never still, never trapped in traffic snarls, always finding a way through the gridlocks and the side streets.
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“Is it a dream? Or is it real?”
Questions Megumi asked herself as she stood before the mirror. She no longer had fox ears or a fox tail. Even her long brown hair had turned jet black and her lavender eyes were a natural green just like Alysia’s.
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Perhaps she’s also a do-gooder. One of those socially conscious, change-the-world type girls complete with a never ending supply of life’s own contagious enthusiasm.
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... she’d stolen her boyfriend away from her, leaving her with a goldfish and a cat. Oh, and a pillow and some lights, she added. And I can’t really see you, because I’m blind.
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For example, I never noticed that the moon had eyelashes, not until tonight. You said you couldn’t really see that, not at all. You preferred the fact that the word “lunatic” sounded like an attic on the moon...
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I walked her home.
She lived eight blocks in the opposite direction of me,
but it made her smile
—I made her smile.
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This is what my summer has come to: me, out of a job, aimlessly driving around the city looking for places to write, places to read, places to occupy my time.
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The pulsing of her little life. I sniff my fingers, deep sniff, ummmmm! Again! Deep back in my mind, like Momma smelled, spicy and ripe.
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And as he looked at the departing pink cushion in his rear-view mirror (shaped like a canoe without the paddles), the latest big question popped into his mind like a hot slice of buttered brown bread from his shiny, metallic stainless steel toaster –
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Background
foreground
life in the middle
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The purple sweater brought out the blue in her eyes. Fantastic eyes made of ice, she was a stunner, and she knew it. I met her at Slabtown
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One day my mother's lover shaved his beard and legs. Said he couldn’t fit into his tight jeans anymore.
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The Star Trek marathon ends, and he flips channels. An episode of Full House is on. The cheesy plot lines and attractive women (specifically, DJ Tanner in the late seasons) have become a freakish comfort.
In today's episode, the Tanners are baby sitt
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127800
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Cooking dinner for one in a city that isn’t my home. A beautiful city that I’m slowly losing interest in, just as I become a local. In a tiny apartment set in the most realistic part of town, I’ve turned the music up loud to drown out my thoughts.
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“Yes. You should probably bring her in.” This was what the receptionist from the Metropolitan Veterinary Hospital told me. My dog, Goldie, had a bloody nose and was breathing heavily.
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Opposite the foothills, on the field's southern edge, was a stand of old eucalyptus trees, each one a gnarled sentry with bark like burnt skin peeling from its trunk.
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The words of prophets only serve to demonstrate that ‘unreliable narrative’ can often result in poor literature; unfortunately, poor literature can attract a very large following.
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IN THE QUIET TIME Forgiveness and forgetfulness are words I sometimes think have worth to just the dead; Though envy creeps, I grudge no man's rewards: There lie no guilt-edged thoughts against my head. The funeral march bears off, away from mind, The petty…
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Sometimes one person's shelter is another person's storm.
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He reached his decision just as the plane entered a pocket of turbulence. The moderate buffeting jiggled the flesh of his stomach, a common if uncomfortable occurrence, which he attempted to remedy by clearing his throat and tugging his shirt outward so
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At a good distance, he stood. Hair, gray, stringy, long as a horse’s mane. His beard, thick, unkempt. Like a caterpillar, a smile worked across his face. No, he said. It won’t be another Miami. Not another Miami.
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“Let me in,” I begged.
“No. Get back stinky feet.”
“I washed them.”
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