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In Which Lynyrd Confronts Larger Issues Brought Up by the Need to Eat Something for Supper Is it so hard for other people to pick out what they're gonna eat? Food shouldn't be so hard. nutrition is subject to advertising The guilt is balanced by indulgence bought with funds I should be saving How do I stop my mental crisis when it is time to eat something All this internal conflict and I wonder how bad others get this shit. #Haiku #Poetry #FoodPolitics The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Heat & Snow#Photography #PhotoSet #ChristaDickson #HeatMiser #SnowMiser #Heat&Snow
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May 10, 2014College won't last forever, whisper the books on the shelves You either drop out or you graduate The books—thick, thin, tall, short—stink of righteousness and perfection So it's obvious, they scream, PICK ME Tear through my pages, rip-roaring fast, the way you tore up hearts freshman year Sniff my pages, run your fingers over my words It's just you and me in the library, baby Alone, secret, safe among the letters Let's make legend of our love #Books #Libraries #College #LiteraryLife #Love #Poetry
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Office DazeThey say sitting on our asses all day makes us dumber But how does having saggy buns deteriorate your mind? Brain fog—but what's that got to do with your behind? Early Americans did not stay seated long, as they always had something to pick or plow. Now we're hunched over desks, checking Facebook until 5 p.m. ticks its way around again. #Butts #Stupid #DayJob
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The Truth in Shadows#Illustration #DigitalIllustration #Shadows #TheTruthInShadows #GracePopp
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The Snake and the DragonBy Sandra Scholes QuailBellMagazine.com The East has much to offer the weary traveller, but some regions have warnings attached to them. One such region was where our own weary traveller now finds himself. Wang had travelled for many days in search of a place to stay without any such luck. For most of the journey he fantasized of an inn that would take him in, one with a comfortable bed and the company of one of the most beautiful women imaginable. He envisioned how she would look: dark-haired, voluptuous and wearing very little other than a smile to cover her modesty.
After another day of searching, he noticed a small town in the distance. Rushing toward it even though his legs hurt terribly, he stopped at an inn, sighing as he pushed open the wooden doors. All the people at the inn turned from their drinks to stare at him, the atmosphere smoky and dark. "May I have a room for the night and some food?" he asked. The owner looked at his wife and shook his head. "I can pay you handsomely," Wang offered, holding out several silver coins that were threaded around a red string. The owner noticed the money, but was not swayed by it, hoping his wife would not agree to take the young man in. Unfortunately, he saw how interested she was in the money, and in him. “It would be great misfortune for us if he left, now wouldn’t it, my husband?” Wang let the five coins fall into the man’s palm, while his wife took him upstairs to show him his room. His new surroundings were basic, but at least he had a futon. It would be the first time he had not slept under the stars in a while. Thanking the many gods for his own good fortune, he drifted off into blessed sleep. No sooner had he gone to sleep was he was woken by a feminine scent and the billowing silhouette of a woman drifting toward him. As she stood there, he still thought he was dreaming, though that idea was quashed when he felt an intense desire overcome him, sheer lust knotted deep in his groin. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
All Syria is a TwitterBy Ryan Carson QuailBellMagazine.com @RyCar106: America uses uranium based chemical weapons in Iraq. Then decides to go to war with Syria for using chemical weapons. #icanteven @mp2642: FYI-it’s nuclear not chemical. If you want to know about the bullets used, call me. i took an octopus out of the hudson and into a home aquarium so clear. fresh spring water. glass glowing like glass inside glass. the octopus suffocates. who would’ve thought the space between halves of an atom could threaten all our poetry @RyCar106Correction: uranium is of course a nuclear based weapon. However America did use white phosphorus in Fallujah as well. I went out into the side-yard and sat in the grass. there was snow on the grass and I worried that the fresh khakis I had put on were going to get wet-butt, but then I just decided to ride it out. I lit a 27 and put on a song. cigarettes are great for enjoying one song. I put on a song that I wish I had had when you were away. the song, “Ooh Do I Love You” by Cap’n Jazz was released before you were away, so technically I had it, but like I didn’t have it yet. not ‘til Joe had given the song to me outside the Pratt Institute library. how love songs can be so diverse we're so scared we measure up each species in our heads. i can step on that li'l fucker's jaw. removing a cap kiss your wife but kiss her like you just landed in buffalo without a coat with cigarette dangling from yr mouth and oozing from yr mouth is the love that’s on yr lips made tangible for the first time by a habit that you picked up when yr stress levels were gauged by a descending scale in dc that is always yellow take off yr cap it says OPERATION ENDURING FREEDOM when dad left grandpa, i got a coin from grandpa. it was supposed to remind me of the justice dad was fighting for. i looked at the coin and thought of all the hands that had touched this coin. it had seen cities. fields. pockets. the air. the look of joy when you find that one bodega that sells loosies. it just kind of made me feel like i had to wash my hands. i think about the time that you said he deserved it when i took the whole yr rights end at the tip of yr nose thing too literally maybe mistook it entirely i jumped toward you and before the moment happened there was a flash and before i could experience the moment it was on the front page of a newspaper announcing someone else’s heroes journey. it was a moment before I got to experience it. i digress. professor recounting: “the audacity to even use the terrm WMD” she cries. it’s the first time you see a professor cry i get in the car and you keep saying bradley. chelsea, I say. not bradley. i can snap him in half like a wishbone. and i think to myself (like i'm always thinking) i want everything and two of some of this shit. find my place in the apehouse. see myself in their eyes. my fingers on their feet. my possessive love somewhere in their embrace. my freedom's limitations sitting on a par 4 short top grass and i’m drinking because i can’t see the sun and i’m waiting on an address, from my phone and i’m hollering. i’m singing. not that simple I say. why not turkey? why not france? they want to. freedom. a lot of places have freedom. back in the car you tell me to see the golf pro i turn up the radio “ah the ballad of ryan listening to the ballad of tim kinsella” i’m hollering. i’m singing. i tell you i love you and you tell me you love me too. and i’m sitting in fellujah and we’re both yelling at a cliff face shooting at the sky i open NPR on my iphone. i’m startled by the lack of finality of this situation. any of it. and i’m smoldering like the skin of a decaying octopus as the trace amounts of oxygen try to escape it. i’m smoldering like syria. i’m smoldering like a bullet that follows another bullet into the side of an ice cream shop and hits an innocent bystander and their family doesn’t know because no one will ever know anything. i’m smoldering like the light on the sidewalk next to the farm i always go to when we have it out like this and the light makes the water smolder and i wish i could flick it off. i’m hollering. i’m singing. #Poem #Poetry #CreativeWriting #Syria #Twitter #Freedom
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Cicada Wings and Pretty ThingsCicada Wing Pendants silver, brass, watch crystal, cicada wing Men's Cicada Ring silver, cicada wing, resin Cicada Stack Rings silver, brass, cicada wings, resin #Jewelry #CarrieBilbo #Pendant #Ring #Cicada #HandmadeJewelry
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My Love Feels Quite BoringMy love feels Quite boring, My living unfree, For I don't live In town In a friend-making Spree. I wait for the moment I know myself best To take all my thoughts Through action To test. Yet what do I fear, Soft whispers of hate, violence Mistrust, Betrayal innate? I think I am Safe In this room of emotion, But outside there lurks A penetration, An ocean. #Poem #Poetry #CreativeWriting #Love
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The All-NighterAdams Morgan froze. Cars stopped. People stopped. Only the moon hummed—and not a sweet hum, either. More like the unnerving near-song of a refrigerator at 2 a.m. Paige bit her nail and peeled the crescent from her pinkie. “What a shit show,” she mumbled, staring at the Excel sheet dominating her computer screen. Exactly a year ago, Paige had been in the same position, hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table. She feasted on Fiddle Faddle and pili nuts while her roommate slept. First she'd pop a piece of Fiddle Faddle into her mouth. Then she'd eat a pili nut. It went like that for a while until she put the pili nuts back in the cupboard. When Paige's roommate wandered in for a snack—wearing her signature “Save the Ta-tas” T-shirt and boxers left by an ex—the Fiddle Faddle was gone. “You ate it all,” her roommate hissed and knocked the box from the table. Then she went back to bed. Like the junk food box, Paige's spreadsheet was empty. For hours, Paige had read and digested and read some more. At some point, all mental digestion ceased. Gastroparesis of the brain. Officially, she began work at 8:30 a.m. Unofficially, her boss would dirty his diapers if she didn't haul her ass in at 7:45 a.m. Then she'd have to fetch clean diapers from CVS. Consequently, Paige had become the master of the five-minute shower. She had never wanted to work in Courthouse, and by the grace of General Robert E. Lee, she was never going to live there. Paige had thought about Clarendon for about two seconds until she imagined the rest of her twenties thrown away at Spider Kelly's. “But one life to live,” Paige muttered as she shuddered at the shiny 'For Rent' sign she literally ran into the summer after she graduated from Kenyon. And so the jog to Woodley Park followed by a tight ride to Metro Center and then a transfer to the Orange line had become part of her anxious morning rhythm. It evolved into something more frenetic in the evening. Easy living but a naïve dream in an undergrad's heart. The computer smirked at her. Paige typed a single letter in the spreadsheet and stared at it for a spell. Then she deleted it. She typed in a number. She deleted it. She typed in a letter and a number. She deleted those, too. When her computer started to buzz and whir, Paige unplugged it. The fan quieted and the computer cooled down. Paige saved the spreadsheet under a new title: “FML,” coincidentally also her boss's initials. Francis Miles Labelle. Paige pulled her hair out of a ponytail and ambled toward the shower. This year's roommate—different from last year's—would not wake from the sound of water hitting the porcelain tub at 4:43 a.m. “This one's gonna last 20,” Paige said as she undressed herself and stepped under the cold stream. When she stepped out of the shower, Paige wrapped herself in an orange towel and returned to the kitchen. She pressed the power button on her laptop. No response. She pressed it again. Nothing. She connected the computer to its charger. A few minutes later, she pressed the button once more. Nothing still. “Delightful, Francis,” she whispered and went straight for the mattress that had not seen more than six hours' continuous use in ten months. #FlashFiction #ShortStory #CreativeWriting #DC #AdamsMorgan #OfficeJobs
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