A Study for a Memoir
This is the beginning of the book that I should have written. It starts with a box, in a closet, in a room. Notebooks with tortured spines and severed pages tell the stories, in too many words, of days when I choked on syllables and synonyms. This is what mattered to me. Once. Sometimes, I think until it hurts and...
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This is the beginning of the book that I should have written. It starts with a box, in a closet, in a room. Notebooks with tortured spines and severed pages tell the stories, in too many words, of days when I choked on syllables and synonyms. This is what mattered to me. Once. Sometimes, I think until it hurts and...
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VIEW 21 of 21 COMMENTS
VII. Quittance
She called me tonight. I was glad it was her. Shes the reason I plugged the phone back in.
So, anyway., she says immediately - as if she was continuing a conversation rather than initiating one, He is so confusing, Julie, I swear to fucking God.
She doesnt need to clarify her pronouns. I know without thinking and she says without speaking. Weve...
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She called me tonight. I was glad it was her. Shes the reason I plugged the phone back in.
So, anyway., she says immediately - as if she was continuing a conversation rather than initiating one, He is so confusing, Julie, I swear to fucking God.
She doesnt need to clarify her pronouns. I know without thinking and she says without speaking. Weve...
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toneski:
Are you talking about me again? Cause I don't remember calling you...and i am not a girl.
*scratches head*
*scratches head*
roddy:
very well written. i read them the first night to put them up. i was so dissappointed with the lack of comments it made me sad. i've come out of my voyuer state to tell you the storys fascinated the hell out of me. my attention span is whoa low, so the short story are perfect for me. so thank you.....very much
VI. A Nocterna in Pathetique
Tangled wires and cables, like umbilical cords, connect us to the artificial things that deliver us our life blood. Blank-eyed screens give us the impossible things we were too realistic to believe in. The clock in the corner tallies time as it passes, ignored. Hours and days, counted and falsified upon recounting, tell fairy tales. Once upon a time there...
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Tangled wires and cables, like umbilical cords, connect us to the artificial things that deliver us our life blood. Blank-eyed screens give us the impossible things we were too realistic to believe in. The clock in the corner tallies time as it passes, ignored. Hours and days, counted and falsified upon recounting, tell fairy tales. Once upon a time there...
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roddy:
your descriptive words just flow so smoothly thru my brain. just enough to awaken it enough for satifaction.
IV. This Atmosphere is Not Conducive to Life
Our furniture is pointed at the screens which steal our conversations. We sit & we stare at the screens- together yet alone & worlds apart. He reclines, passively, content to fall into TV's vapid stupor of escapism. I, clumsily persistent wordsmith sit , forever tangled in the labyrinth of metaphor that I unwind.
He laughs & I...
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Our furniture is pointed at the screens which steal our conversations. We sit & we stare at the screens- together yet alone & worlds apart. He reclines, passively, content to fall into TV's vapid stupor of escapism. I, clumsily persistent wordsmith sit , forever tangled in the labyrinth of metaphor that I unwind.
He laughs & I...
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eurisko:
you need to write a book... i know id buy it. i just wish i could think of better comments to post. im a bit out of it
roddy:
that's the real world out there sad, and funny, haha no laugh track.
V. Broken
Monday morning's minutes, minutia & microtragedy:
peel eyes from eyelids. OPEN. (one in a bed built for two, bought for two, betrayed by one) 4:30 am says the wristwatch on the carpet. (he took the alarm clock when he left).
STRETCH. taut, clenched muscles scream protests between feet & knees, knees & hips. hips & shoulders. shoulders & elbows & hands. girl limbs...
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Monday morning's minutes, minutia & microtragedy:
peel eyes from eyelids. OPEN. (one in a bed built for two, bought for two, betrayed by one) 4:30 am says the wristwatch on the carpet. (he took the alarm clock when he left).
STRETCH. taut, clenched muscles scream protests between feet & knees, knees & hips. hips & shoulders. shoulders & elbows & hands. girl limbs...
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VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
sarcasticmenace:
As soon as start to believe that you can no longer surprise me, I realize that I've lied to myself once again. I just need to accept the fact that you will never cease to amaze me.
I don't mean to cheapen your gift (or your pain), but someone should be paying you a fucking lot of money to do this.
I don't mean to cheapen your gift (or your pain), but someone should be paying you a fucking lot of money to do this.
roddy:
just the perfect amount of drama in this one. you know, with all that those damn tounge clucking, morning fucking birds would allow.
VI. Girls Like Her
"Holy Jesus fuck!", she breathes.
I glance over at her.
She has lived here her entire life. She's watched this sun set behind the Pacific Ocean every afternoon. Or any afternoon that she bothered to look up and notice anyway. But, still the fiery pastels of dusk impressed her, so much so that she muttered blasphemous curses. She was skin and...
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"Holy Jesus fuck!", she breathes.
I glance over at her.
She has lived here her entire life. She's watched this sun set behind the Pacific Ocean every afternoon. Or any afternoon that she bothered to look up and notice anyway. But, still the fiery pastels of dusk impressed her, so much so that she muttered blasphemous curses. She was skin and...
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VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
funktion:
I like her for reasons such as these. ^^
roddy:
a real dreamer there hey? it's all good.
V. Quittance
She called me tonight. I was glad it was her. Shes the reason I plugged the phone back in.
So, anyway., she says immediately - as if she was continuing a conversation rather than initiating one, He is so confusing, Julie, I swear to fucking God.
She doesnt need to clarify her pronouns. I know without thinking and she says without speaking. Weve...
Read More
She called me tonight. I was glad it was her. Shes the reason I plugged the phone back in.
So, anyway., she says immediately - as if she was continuing a conversation rather than initiating one, He is so confusing, Julie, I swear to fucking God.
She doesnt need to clarify her pronouns. I know without thinking and she says without speaking. Weve...
Read More
funktion:
ive been there before, that world you pen. so easily i slip back into it, like i'd never left. it comforts me, the way they see the world, the picture you paint. i can hear a song playing, its a sweet lulaby, it carries me away.. and home again..
you were going to send me some of that at one point.. i'd still like to read it all. if there is an all to read. maybe that world is just created by me. in my minds eye on the fly. fingerpainting your prose into my dreams...
you were going to send me some of that at one point.. i'd still like to read it all. if there is an all to read. maybe that world is just created by me. in my minds eye on the fly. fingerpainting your prose into my dreams...
roddy:
yeah nothing better than blood.
III. Blood Sisters
I was seven years old, when we moved to a new town, to a new school, to new things that kept me up late nights. I was a pillar of ashes that sat, sleep deprived, at recess, reading books to stay awake and to avoid the strange kaleidoscope of unfamiliar faces.
"Kate, sweetie, why don't you play with your new classmates? You...
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I was seven years old, when we moved to a new town, to a new school, to new things that kept me up late nights. I was a pillar of ashes that sat, sleep deprived, at recess, reading books to stay awake and to avoid the strange kaleidoscope of unfamiliar faces.
"Kate, sweetie, why don't you play with your new classmates? You...
Read More
funktion:
I finished the first one and like rabbits humping 2 more had appeared. i've missed reading you. 
back to it.
back to it.
roddy:
brings back memeories. seemed we were never old enough to be listened to, by our mothers or sometimes even by a older sister or brother.
II. The History House Mysteries
In the summer of 1989, we moved into my mother's childhood home.
The wood flesh of 702 Shannon Way bore mute scars, silently taunting Emelia and I with the confirmation of life we hadn't lived. It was a bare boned skeleton of walls and sliding doors - exposed rods hidden in empty closets, My grandmother bequeathed to us only the...
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In the summer of 1989, we moved into my mother's childhood home.
The wood flesh of 702 Shannon Way bore mute scars, silently taunting Emelia and I with the confirmation of life we hadn't lived. It was a bare boned skeleton of walls and sliding doors - exposed rods hidden in empty closets, My grandmother bequeathed to us only the...
Read More
roddy:
beautiful, simply beautiful
I. Nyctophobia
Why do we say that we are afraid of the dark when it isn't the dark that we fear at all, but the possibility of what could be in the dark?
i remember being very young, sharing a bedroom with an even younger sister who had this fear that, to me, was always rather irrational. i imagined the nightmares that vibrated off the...
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Why do we say that we are afraid of the dark when it isn't the dark that we fear at all, but the possibility of what could be in the dark?
i remember being very young, sharing a bedroom with an even younger sister who had this fear that, to me, was always rather irrational. i imagined the nightmares that vibrated off the...
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funktion:
you look so sexy in that pic!! 
oks back to reading ^^
you look so sexy in that pic!!
oks back to reading ^^
roddy:
this was the first one i read. tv blaring, music playing, and me goofing on nekkid woman site. the first few lines and all my distractions were muted out of my mind, leaving only room your beautiful words. thank you
me too. he likes his 'big scary cat' chew toy, apparently. i had to send him something out of sympathy for his being periodically rectally expelled. or something.
yes. yes i know.