Stories tagged memoir

Girl in 'Nam (Part 2)

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A life in NYC was one I always dreamed of but I found myself turning into a bitter, sarcastic person who was losing the ability to see the silver lining in just about anything.


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My voice hesitates, then climbs over the walls of past hesitation and soars....

Picnicking In Mt. Misery Cemetery

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Picnicking In Mt. Misery Cemetery We breathe the damp shade, plum trees shining in a woodland where there are few wrong things I want to remember-- the steel fence of the power company blazing under an arc light is one. On this day of ripening fruit …

Officer Handsome

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I managed to get ahead of him, but he got behind me and turned his lights on. I then heard "Pull over NOW!" I wasn't sure how I could hear that as my windows were rolled up. Did he have a bullhorn? Oh crap; maybe he is a real cop? Why would a thief want t

Understand, Rubberband?

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After we moved uptown we lived close enough to the park that we could go there on our own (with permission) on weekends and during school breaks to visit the zoo or the pond where people floated their mechanical boats....

1997: What I Wanted

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If all the world had one neck, I would have clenched my hands around it and squeezed until everything went black.

1998, What I Wanted

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What I wanted was long-in-the-sheets sex...

Still Life

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One rainy day I walked to an out-of-the-way section of town where the buildings were old, and the streets were cobblestone.


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I found the knife in a fishing box in the closet. The box was made out of varnished wood. My father’s father had made it.


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You can see the humped black rocks, majestic with that poetic looking surf around them just fine from up here, so most folks never even go down the stairs. They snap one, two, three shots and pile back into their cars and head south for the Trees of Myste

Zurich, 1989

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I do not yet really understand the power I seem to have at this moment. And I am certainly too young to recognize that it will end up being weakness, too.

No Dogs Allowed

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They were an interesting young couple. Tom was a big man with rugged features, though not handsome. His face was deeply pock-marked with the scars that are sometimes left over from a terrible bout with adolescent acne. His wife – though I was never cert

Twenty-three-year-olds Shouldn't Be Writing Memoirs

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"Et in Arcadia ego"

Twenty-three-year-olds Shouldn't Be Writing Memoirs (Ch 2)

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I began to emulate older kids that I hung out with to the point of being mimetic. The kids I admired themselves were MTV-engineered victims of emotional and cultural exploitation, impersonating their alternative rock idols much like I impersonated them.

Waylaid (1999)

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In that mix of sports and religion, TV was what there was of virtue. I thought bars were nicer.