"You talk too much," he says, between mouthfuls of pasta, pesto and Lebanese bread. He sits at the laptop and types like a mutated praying mantis, scrolling down with Irish eyes as he bobs left and right in blessed lay criticism. "Write about how amazingly handsome I am, they'll eat that shit up," he laughs in jest. His sideways glance says otherwise as he taps away, bobbing. She wonders if she really does talk too much, but she had looked everywhere on the site and wasn't given a word limit.… Continue
Added by Ms Q on March 15, 2009 at 4:30am —
The creaking of the morning splintering through the shutters had stirred her back into consciousness, drawing her to follow the light down to the tranquilised slug of 9am dragging itself along her calf. Reaching over him, she grabbed her camera and flooded the room with the red whirr of focus and, as he rolled over, she clicked. The echo of memory ricocheted off the hook of his nose, onto the safari hat that lay on the mantle, and flew back into her camera with the zzhoot of a retracting lens.… Continue
Added by Ms Q on March 15, 2009 at 12:00am —
I am being very good and sticking to my own self imposed program.
Limited internet, naps whenever I have the time, lots of down time when I do nothing but sit and think and arrange my thoughts, chores that are manageable, reading time, walking the dog, well, you know, well planned acts of kindness of which I am the recipient.
I am treating myself in the best possible manner, as if I am sick and need to recuperate, but I am going to do it permanently and all I need to do is… Continue
Added by Irene Sieders on March 14, 2009 at 11:34pm —
A.K. tagged me last month to come up with the theme for this month's edition of Paul's Themed blogs. I'm way late getting to it so I'm going to make it a fortnight and hand it off for April to...eenie meenie, Sugar it's you!
I wrote the first sentence below exactly as it came to me one morning upon waking. Your mission (theme) will be to write a dreamy six that includes at least one completely made up word. Have fun! Harry
by Harry B.… Continue
Added by Harry on March 14, 2009 at 11:00pm —
Man outside in a funkafied trench coat. Cigarette, after cigarette. Shit, doesn’t he know it’s bad for you to smoke, especially filter-less Camels? And that badass piece, in his pocket; he ain’t foolin’ nobody. He’s all nicotine trigger finger, ready to go off. Hope his mama don’t see him like this, cause I know for sure she’d whup his ass, and throw away his smokes.
Added by Brad Rose on March 14, 2009 at 10:50pm —
The theory of books is noble.
The scholar of the first age received into him the world around; brooded thereon; gave it the new arrangement of his own mind, and uttered it again.
It came into him life; it went out from him truth. It came to him short-lived actions; it went out from him immortal thoughts. It came to him business; it went out from him poetry. It was dead fact; now, it is quick thought. It can stand and it can go. It now endures, it now flies, it now… Continue
Added by Daniel on March 14, 2009 at 10:39pm —
Knight takes pawn, check:
does a box of glittering lights and humming processors really think a weak attack like this is going to rattle me, it's a simple matter to move my King out of harms way, smiling I move my King to D8.
Queen to F6, check:
so the machine wants to persist in this futility, well there's a simple enough cure.
Knight takes Queen:
this is what happens when you play a machine, they get overconfident, push their major pieces out without… Continue
Added by Bob Clay on March 14, 2009 at 9:25pm —
Stella was a hell of a woman and any moment could find Stella doing the work of her master and the master watched. Stella stayed up late nights and rose early to work her magic; she was indeed good at her craft. Her latest project consumed her and filled her with wicked delight, while from his realm, the master watched. Stella was only human and her last project, of enormous magnitude, was her undoing and she transported to a spirit version of herself in some unfamiliar place and knew… Continue
Added by Olive Rosehips on March 14, 2009 at 7:30pm —
The dark city streets whine on endlessly. The rain’s cold. Great backdrop for keeping the smiling faces away. No place for them here. My brow furrows in thought as I rise from my haunches. The broken body before me stares eternally up into the tortured sky, desperate for his story to be told.
Added by Matt Baulding on March 14, 2009 at 7:00pm —
She just landed.
Swimming in a pool in Brazil.
Remembering him with the funny swimming trunks.
He said she had more inner peace than him.
So excited to know him.
The start...... and the end....... of it all.
Added by PrincessOfNottingHill on March 14, 2009 at 5:30pm —
After spending two weeks in the hospital from major ligement repair in my left knee I wasn't sure life would ever be the same again.
I told the doctor I would have been better off having a broken leg, and he made certain to let me know I would have done him a favor to have a broken leg instead of tearing it the way I did and that was why the pain was so terrible he told me.
I'm just getting home from the hospital and getting settled in on the sofa while the kids unpacked… Continue
Added by ROBERTA on March 14, 2009 at 4:47pm —
Growing up in Africa we were blessed with sunshine almost throughout the year! Ah, those days when we would walk home from school sweating like pigs and yet no odour touched our nostrils to disgust us, we were all friends from the same town.
The sun was hot and would beat down on us without mercy sometimes but we basked in the knowledge that God had bestowed us the blessing of enjoying the beautiful warmth and light from the sun, light the… Continue
Added by Nurry on March 14, 2009 at 1:58pm —
It started with a hit to the head…good thing it was only a big book this time…last time his shit got fucked up by a soccer trophy. Turns out soccer trophies can crack skulls and leave funny scars…scars that look like moccasins, or little slippers. His aim is impeccable... was his thought as the book approached his head at a surprisingly quick pace from across the room; Michener's "Alaska" made good weaponry. He didn't bother ducking knowing if he didn't get bludgeoned with this assault the… Continue
Added by xtx on March 14, 2009 at 12:08pm —
When the lady on the stilts falls over I will laugh so hard. She is pretending to be a giant man for the purpose of 'Children's Entertainment'. I think people have no respect for the intelligence of children, they know that isn't a giant and that it isn't a man. The costume is just bad as well, though I wish the trousers were longer and more dangerous, y'know, for tripping over. I look at the face of the giant stilts woman and she seems to be enjoying herself. The children are looking pretty… Continue
Added by chriseast on March 14, 2009 at 12:03pm —
Once situated between Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show and the first Ferris Wheel, “the Midway” had run between 59th and 60th streets, on the south side of Chicago. But that was a long, long time ago. Now, its petty imitations can be found nearly everywhere, perched in parking lots of discount furniture stores in steamy little summer towns, or installed near the sprawling big-box stores out on the interstates of sun-baked edge cities. Owned by over-capitalized conglomerates, its midgets are… Continue
Added by Brad Rose on March 14, 2009 at 12:00pm —
Having just retired and having time for some dental work, I found myself in the Dentist's chair.
Dr. Kieselbacher, with a sheaf of x-rays in his hand, says,"I can do this work for Twenty-Two Hundred dollars!"
Through the cotton sponges and the Novocain, I sputtered," Shit, John, I don't even have a job"
"OK", he responded, "Five Hundred".
Now that's negotiation!
Wm. Shattner would be proud.
Added by Dick Stine on March 14, 2009 at 10:58am —
When I go to bars I tell the women I'm Charlie Sheen's stunt double. Even if they don't believe me it still makes for good conversation. It's so much fun to lie to total strangers.
Writing is a lot like that. You're just lying to strangers. Just like when I told you I liked your six.
Added by Jay Holmes on March 14, 2009 at 10:42am —
The black dog relaxes with his back to the sun, his tail at a low-tempo swish. His blue-hued opponent is hunched over the board, whiskers dancing as she peruses the pattern of the pieces. To their right, two-tone upon the toasted grass, lie the discarded families of the fallen. I smell sulphur, says Danny, nonchalant, as he moves a pawn into place. Men are deceiving themselves again, replied his feline friend, glancing at the sky. Overhead, bomb doors swing open.
Added by Fletcher Dubois on March 14, 2009 at 10:15am —
She watched him yell at the taxi driver but the sound gave way to the boom of colour, his lips unfurling ribbons that burned her ears with the sadness and panic of a blazing orange and purple sunset fighting for more time. He smiled down weakly at her and wiped her forehead as she lay mangled and broken, hopelessly pinned under a night of excess that left her drenched and gasping for air. She raised her hand to hold his, pressed hard against her right breast, and felt herself bleeding into her… Continue
Added by Ms Q on March 14, 2009 at 9:00am —
Winter nights Sicilian men sit in creaking chairs, socked feet propped up on the round wooden brazier from which the scent of burning almond shells wafts sweetly.
They recount old stories of the antichi
––”the ancient ones,” their ancestors in a generational kaleidoscope back to antiquity who told their stories from father to son, mother to daughter, “And as they say,” Uncle Ciccio now quoting those ancients, ‘he who brays like a donkey should not expect to be taken too… Continue
Added by Salvatore Buttaci on March 14, 2009 at 8:30am —