June 2010 Blog Posts (708)

Proof of Life

We enter our lives naked, free of everything...except expectations. We were saddled with dreams, with ancestry, with the expectations of a new generation able to fix all the mistakes left for us, with the state of affairs as they stood that day, and most of all, with the happiness of an entire family on our tiny shoulders. Had our health failed quickly, the family would've been devastated; but as our lives continues, as we grew and had dreams of our own...we had to reconcile in our minds all…

Continue

Added by Jayleah Collins on June 30, 2010 at 11:21pm — 5 Comments

Mistaken For a Working Girl, and I Don't Mean a Secretary

Back in the late nineties, I went to visit my best friend, a woman in her seventies named Val. We used to burn the midnight oil with coffee, flavored creamer and cigarettes,

occasionally drinking White Russians or cheap champagne. She lived downtown, right on

the edge of the good part of downtown and the bad part of downtown,

blurry lines for sure. One night of visiting, I had to park a block

away from her building, you see, I had a restraining…

Continue

Added by Sissy Anderson on June 30, 2010 at 10:05pm — 14 Comments

Soulshine

Over fifty years I've worked my fingers to the bone. Fifty-some years I've been saving, scrimping, making sure my family had what they needed, waiting for my rainy day. I've looked forward to the things that I would do in retirement for over half a century, once my kids were on their own. Stage four colorectal cancer the doctor tells me; chemotherapy, he says. I sit in this house all day, I'm still waiting on my rainy day; it looks like my rainy day wont get here until stage five. Son, don't… Continue

Added by Elliott Cox on June 30, 2010 at 9:00pm — 10 Comments

Some Sins Are Forgiven...

In March '63, Emile Griffith killed Benny Paret, the welterweight champ, with 18 right hooks to the head, Round 13.

At the weigh-in Paret had called Griffith "maricon," i.e., faggot, a bad, i.e., fatal mistake.

Griffith was gay, and Paret should never have spit on him, man.

Griffith, anguished at what he had done, sought forgiveness; Paret's son forgave… Continue

Added by Robert Crisman on June 30, 2010 at 9:00pm — 6 Comments

Jeffrey

I loved Jeffrey, my dopeman. As in loved him, you know?

I knew him way back before chiva and, well, I'm not gay, I don't call myself gay, but I'd have played baseball with that motherfucker, all day; he was pretty, and smart with it too, and together we sussed the whole world--and we were… Continue

Added by Robert Crisman on June 30, 2010 at 8:44pm — 10 Comments

Not my Doc Ramsey Story - But A Funny Twist

Wow, Dr. Ramsey is following me, or worse chasing me. Out of nowhere, now that I have been keeping an eye out for the Mysterious Dr. Ramsey, this individual seems to be everywhere I look. In my line of work, I get questions from different people from all walks of life and one just popped up on my email from a gentleman (or lady)…

Continue

Added by Laura J. Hickman on June 30, 2010 at 8:19pm — 5 Comments

A Plate in His Head

One day the kid who blew sandspurs got hit by a car on the highway and they had to put a plate in his head. I thought that was pretty weird. I figured a saucer maybe, but a plate’s kind of big for your head. Later I saw him with the side of his head shaved and a big red scar, and his head did bulge out a little, but it looked more like a saucer – they just…

Continue

Added by tom burke edwards on June 30, 2010 at 8:10pm — 4 Comments

Another Country

Your smile knifed like butter, you whispered soft slurs in my ear, and our bodies entwined in the darkness. We sang the old song, sometimes off-key, and sometimes attended by others, to help whet desire and move things along in accord with the dictates of voices implanted a long time ago.

I'd read you stories of faraway women and men deep in shadows where danger's a shrouded embrace.

And, almost always, echoes lapped gently as you closed your eyes and pressed against me to… Continue

Added by Robert Crisman on June 30, 2010 at 7:58pm — 8 Comments

A rose for mom

One rose left on the bush
the rest adorn the dining room table.
A delicate rose left behind to die without giving.
I cut the bud and put it in my mothers hair
All day people told her how beautiful she looked
The other roses just sat on the table.

Added by michael r. oconnor on June 30, 2010 at 7:41pm — 6 Comments

Guess that Question is Answered!

Facebook is simply phenomenal! Without it, you never would have be-friended me, but I’m so glad you did, because it’s just been too long since we caught up with each other’s lives. Seems like forever ago that we were traveling together, kicking back at the bar, and eating cheap pizza…

Continue

Added by bolton carley on June 30, 2010 at 7:28pm — 7 Comments

My Choice as the Writer

I have a story or two or three that I am bouncing around, trying to figure out which one would be the best for the contest. My fears are if I my choice is the wrong one, I might be disappointed in the outcome. Plus what if the one I like best, others like the 2…

Continue

Added by Laura J. Hickman on June 30, 2010 at 7:28pm — 7 Comments

The Shallow Bird

Jacob sat under the gorgeous sky and then the bird arrived and began looking at him. That is when Jacob thought that this might be a special moment, a moment where spirit was trying to speak to him through the bird somehow. What a matter of providence this would be and what a special sign of something or other. In an instant though…

Continue

Added by Brian Michael Barbeito on June 30, 2010 at 7:03pm — 3 Comments

Please Fill to This Line

I knew it was coming, but found myself totally unprepared and uneducated; A drug test - for the new short-time, part-time, temporary position; Don't laugh.

With the required printed form in hand, I politely signed in, provided identification - twice, and agreed to some form stating I was aware of a privacy policy.

Then, it was time - to pee into that cup; how hard could it be?…

Continue

Added by Bonnie on June 30, 2010 at 7:02pm — 3 Comments

Ideal

My absolute idea of beautiful was Rachel Ward. I loved her olive skin, brown eyes, thick dark hair; her voice was the delicate tapping of fingernails on polished granite. I envied her long lean body that moved like a tiger with all the time in the world, or seemed to. To her perfection I'd compare my pale freckled skin, green eyes, and spider web wisps of reddish brown hair; my voice was too high and I was too short. Since Rachel I've embraced new…

Continue

Added by Teresa on June 30, 2010 at 7:00pm — 12 Comments

A delicate balance

I've always been a character in my own productions. In every song I sing to an imaginary lover, the voice is my own. As a cartoon silhouette or the stark-white figure making snow angels on the basement floor, naked to the camera with a broken noose around his neck, I'm there. I speak to friends of loneliness, depression, compulsion and joy, every word thoroughly considered and rehearsed. So many actions and conversations are scripted and story-boarded in advance, some never seeing production.… Continue

Added by Adam Fine on June 30, 2010 at 6:35pm — 3 Comments

Burn

Flames licked at the clouds, turning the sky an ashen gray. I ran as fast as my legs would take me, praying I'd left all the gasoline behind. That was always the risk and each time I got a little more careless, but that was the fun. I guess this time was just too much. I didn't see it coming until it was too late; until I felt the searing heat and heard the sizzle of my skin. This time I was the one burning and I have to say; not as cool as I expected.

Added by Emma Ash on June 30, 2010 at 6:32pm — 6 Comments

A question of 16%

I made it a point to make him uncomfortable--extremely uncomfortable--at random intervals as the need arose. Occasionally I would prompt the conversation when usable subject matter failed to procure itself. I mentioned to him in an almost bored monotone, "A spider got into the house today; legs and all it was about the size of my palm." "What did you do with him?" he asked, face contorted into a topographical map of concern. "I lured him into a bag and let him outside... you know I often think… Continue

Added by Adam Fine on June 30, 2010 at 6:28pm — 16 Comments

War Paint

When on vacation in the summer months I wear less makeup, less clothing, less of who I am at home. I have a "self" with a certain standard when I'm anywhere but on vacation. Clothes, make-up, hair, jewelry, shoes -- they're a form of presentation; the choices range from Walmart t-shirts and a ball cap to a well-polished look, but the make-up stays pretty much the same. I've wondered if women lie with make-up, since most men don't wear any, then I try to justify its use by thinking…

Continue

Added by Teresa on June 30, 2010 at 5:00pm — 11 Comments

The Shadow of a Murder

A Traveler becomes weary, her vision skewed at dusk. The murder still hovers, creating waves, an ominous vibe. She struggles through the dense

fog, but cannot differentiate the vacant stares. Consumed, her eyes are drawn up to meet the

feathery horde. Then—a screeching halt—not

an utterance until the caws commence. The

sirens drone off in the distance; now the black cloud will never…

Continue

Added by Mark Danowsky on June 30, 2010 at 4:19pm — 1 Comment

The Black Friday American Dream

The day was bleak from its inception as the crowds had gathered the night before. A few clerks scanned the sea of desperate soured faces, full of ephemeral desires. A managerial voice on the intercom informed the

clerks it was almost time to open. One man, Jdimytai, fought to secure the

doors until the final command was given.

As he stood there on the cusp of a moment he could not foresee it is a

wonder to imagine…

Continue

Added by Mark Danowsky on June 30, 2010 at 4:18pm — 3 Comments

Blog Topics by Tags

Monthly Archives

2013

2012

2011

2010

2009

2008

2005

1969

© 2013   Created by Robert McEvily.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service