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Lost Friend, Friend LostWe were sitting at your desk, letting the new OS install on my computer. I looked at the scab on your head, sure that it was an injury resultant of a night filled with self-pity and Everclear. It wasn't so long ago that this line of thought would be upsetting. But now, what can I do? People can't fix other people.
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Pusheen's First BookI Am Pusheen the Cat by Claire Belton was published in 2013, but it’s still worth repeating: this book made me squeal with joy. Pusheen is like Hello Kitty with an extra dose of kawaii.
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Beach Selfie AdviceDear Margot, How do I take selfies on the beach without looking like a Kardashian wannabe? -Girl That Just Wanna Have Fun The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Chinampas (spring sick)My Chicana studies teacher said that my city should be decorated with cacti, that the people in Fresno, CA were fighting the natural landscape. I began to imagine succulents in shades of pink and blue, in the shape of rib cages, red flowers blooming in their arms and legs. In 2007, I was a returning student at Fresno City College with a five-year-old son. I always thought that the room where they held all the CLS classes was ugly as hell, and it bothered me that there were two doors on either end of the room, and that they had glass windows that anyone could press their face to and look in. I drew mazes on my open palm as I listened to my teacher talk about my city, the desert, and cleared the dry sun from her throat. I still had my son blooming in my own throat. That morning, he had taken the kitchen shears to his hair and I had to shave his head completely. I never asked my son why he did that, but the only answer I could imagine was that the heat from our city had become too much for him. I thumbed the pages of my textbook like they were flower heads and wrote down what my teacher said about cacti, and then I drew a picture of my son’s face, his hair growing back on his head, sharp black hair roots, sticking up to the sky.
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The StreamBy David Pérez QuailBellMagazine.com Three years ago, I began doing crossword puzzles on a regular basis, primarily to keep my mind sharp as age set in. I was approaching sixty, and felt the more brain food the better. I didn’t tackle major leaguers like those in the Sunday New York Times; more medium-level puzzles from USA Today or Simon & Schuster, or in magazines published by Dell or Kappa, the kind you find in supermarkets and airports. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
My SunBy Just M QuailBellMagazine.com When I was a child, I couldn't pronounce my "y"s. I wasn't allowed to ask why. But also I pronounced yellow like lellow. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
When Dolls TalkI was 18 years old when my daughter, Belinda was born, a kid having a kid. I didn’t see myself as a kid, of course. That understanding came later. I wasn’t ready to be a father. “You’re too young, son,” my mother told me more than once. She also knew marrying Serafina would bring me heartache. But I went ahead anyway. Serafina was pregnant with Belinda, and I felt marriage was the manly thing to do. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Today, I've Been Engaged To Myself For 1 Year!As of today (#WorldGothDay), I have been engaged to myself for one year. I didn’t do it on purpose, but proposing to myself on this day was very significant for me.
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Spring 2018 from an Astrological PerspectiveBy Leah Mueller QuailBellMagazine.com Spring arrives every year at approximately the same time, yet it never fails to surprise me. Winter in the Pacific Northwest is accompanied by an almost ceaseless drumbeat of falling water—rain that waxes and wanes, but always seems imminent. As the perpetually gray sky bulges with moisture, I often wonder whether the rain will ever stop, and if I’ll recognize the sun when it does return. And yet return it does, exactly on its own schedule. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Flowers in My ToiletOne of my earliest memories involves going to see my great grandmother. For whatever reason, we never went to the front door of anyone’s house, so we opened the back gate and went inside the yard. It was then that I came face to face the most colossal flowers I'd ever seen. They loomed over me, and I was entranced like Alice in Wonderland in the giant garden. Huge sunflowers bowed their petaled heads over mine like they were trying to whisper secrets in my ear. When I followed their stems all the way down, I realized they were growing out of a toilet. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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