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Whorehouse Piano Players of the Mississippi Valley

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Imagine, if you will, the heartland of America–the Mississippi River Valley–as a woman sprawled out on a bed.

Fragments

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Your insincere smile, eyes drowning in kohl. Sweat and sweet talcum, and the maroon cashmere stole.

Feline Impediments to a Sunday Nap

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The two cats begin to circle To better make my surface workle. They treat me as (this makes me sore) Floor model in a mattress store.

The Master of Sleep

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The Master of Sleep had lived alone for many years, so when his daughters first moved into his house he welcomed them, seemingly glad for their company...

Every Step, and There Are Lots

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Her plastic shopping bag brushes your leg. You look into it and all you see is a 2 liter of Coke, a bag of Lay’s potato chips and a package of Oreos. It’s so oddly touching, so purely American, that your heart breaks a little bit. You want to hug t

What Memory Holds

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There's this sepia-toned photograph, which my mother gave me, of my brother and me when we were still both youngsters. In the picture my brother's dressed in a skimpy checked suit whose sleeves were already too short for him — on its way to becoming my

Cleavage Cont.

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"My tits, " she instructed "aren't for public consumption".Everything was actually muffled and my ears began to bleed because of how progressively louder the thumping was in the center of my chest. Stacy decided to emphasize her point of disliking the objectification…

Faithless

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She was now sitting in her bathtub. The warmth of the water made her pale, rich vanilla skin flushed with the fullness of circulation as her pores continued to allow the passage of her toxins from her system.

Noises

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Another noise, softer than the first: swish, thud. You are still. The house is very loud tonight.

Famous Female Artist

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I remember being sent a picture once from one of my old roommates, Louise, back in Chicago where I came from. The photo was taken when she’d come out for a visit to California. In the picture I am sitting on the front stairs of my house in the Rockridge

The Fly On Our Pickle

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I think I know that fly That fly followed us from our apartment on W. 11th St When I opened the door he flew right in and when we left, he flew right out again Followed us on the subway to Times Square Took the Shuttle apparently Followed

Fringe Element

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In order to be a catalyst for catharsis — which is just a fancy way of saying agent of change — you have to be willing to condition yourself into something partially inhuman. Only something on the very outskirts of humanity…

Fall

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You fall with your eyes closed because otherwise you wouldn't dare.

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

The Tale of the Donut and the Éclair

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“I scheduled some time today to talk to you about something…something important. Since you’re going on with your life, leaving everything you’ve known so far, you’re going to need some information about sex.”

The 0th Parallel

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These are the days you wish would never end.

Prick-Tease

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“Pull out, pull out, you dimwit!” Cheryl B told Andy. “I told you to pull out before you came, if you ever expect to climb up on top of me again! God, Andy, what’s wrong with you?” Cheryl had flaming red hair and was what we now call “Plu

Gee, If Only We'd Known!

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As soon as those planes hit the buildings on September 11, it was pretty much all systems go for Cheney's long-planned Iraqi invasion. But first he had to shitcan an aide who showed him in detail how Iraq would eventually…

SUNRISE

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There is a false dawn, when night still holds sway, but tempered with promise; anticipation.

Grandfather Clock

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On a cold November afternoon I stood in the foyer of Sampson and Sons funeral home and paced silently back and forth across the purple carpet. They have that deep pile and rich color of carpeting that you only really see in a small town…

The Wild Silence: Intro

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He huddles against the wooden beam of a chop suey stand, glaring out into the giant technological organism that was his city. Lights, hulking monstrosities and endless possibilities were teeming in the night-hustle that surrounded him.

Eidetic (from OPEN CITY Magazine Number 16)

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Who do you think are the true intellectuals? I'm a fan of both Gore Vidal and Harold Bloom although most people can't stand either of them. George Plimpton is interesting...

Cache

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Could I cache your kisses?

These Lines These Shadows

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From the movement of the silence and the stillness of the bells From all that stands unguarded in need of sentinels. My world concomitant with some other sphere, that refuses me admittance, elusive yet so near. A physical illusion, a blinding…

Wedded Bliss

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Alaina paced around in the green room. She couldn't believe she had agreed to do this. Her friends had told her it would be an excellent idea. How can agreeing to marry a total stranger on national television a decent idea, let alone an excellent one? "Oh Lain, it'll be…

beepbeepbeep

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Howard needed to finish this time. As his marriage slid further down the sinkhole toward divorce, it was important to him that his affair be successful.

All Of My Monsters And Beautiful Women In Dreams

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1. Lamia I slapped the venomous dream from his mouth before he could spit in my eyes; fuck him and his rage, fucking Tonton Macoute or whatever he was--and I got the hell out and away from that house and the fires that raged on all floors, and I fled…

A Break in the Cloud

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Each had jostled and laboured for his or her place upon the blunt outcrop, in the cold persistent darkness, where the outcrop was merely something that had fallen and not quite been washed away.

Movie Conference, 1963

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Suddenly the producer, Irving, tosses a new idea into the discussion, an idea for a possible film. Then the writer, Herbert, does the talking. He performs, in fact, puts on a one-man show. The idea! The idea! It's…

Casual Summons

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He summoned a demon from Hell, following instructions from a journal his grandfather wrote on the subject before being the victim of a sort of faust-like debacle himself. A little imp popped in from a cloud of smoke following his ritual. It turned around,