17 0 1
|
Chicago. Recent. The nineties that we thought would bring so much more. The day was raw. Well, rawer than it should have been, anyway. And I'm not talking about chill or heat,…
|
15575
|
Come closer. I would offer you the future. Your hand on the soldier’s arm. Your word pregnant with power.
“Stop.”
|
21481
|
Ah the isolation! The affordability of such loneliness! It was glorious for a moment—those gelatinous creatures swarming around me, stinging every surface of my skinny frame but that's another story.
|
300
|
They swarmed over him like a pack of dingos on a baby.
|
93610
|
Soul? Who's got soul? That nothingness that holds us together, between the spaces, in and out of the cracks in our minds and bodies. The soul weighs something, you know. It's been proven. Some guy did a study where he weighed people before and after death, and they weighed…
|
6653
|
Her swell of child fits like a socket into the bowl of my hip-bones.
|
142107
|
"The worst was the maggots."
|
950
|
The first and only afternoon you are invited into Matt Day's house, you're playing at Jim Meadows', where you usually are if you have permission to go anywhere. It is also the first time you see porn. Matt Day rides into his own driveway and drops his bike and…
|
94510
|
It’s the small stuff. Always. A conversation with a stranger, brief yet so connected it overwhelms you. These encounters can move me beyond my reality, little reminders that, if you just crack the window a little, something very special can blow in.
|
8996
|
the dance begins. Deeper. I dance. I am with you tonight.
|
117300
|
Do I feel good about any of that? Not really. But I seem to find myself asking over and over again, why should I care? That's something that's never happened before. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I kind of liked it.
|
117900
|
“I feel like my bones are melting.” Her arms are wrapped around her body tightly, like she’s trying to hold herself together. She’s shaking; I can hear it with every breath she takes.
|
3621
|
I knew what to expect. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was in Greg’s genes. That was easy. It was animal. Instinct lights the path, and our bodies follow the light. The real mystery is the who am I question. It drove Hamlet to murder, and l
|
132372
|
"My dear man. We are not friends we are symbiotic."
|
176684
|
Tell me your hero and I'll tell you what's cooking with you...
|
