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I'M SORRY my depression consumed us. I'm even more sorry yours didn't. If it had we could have been over a lot sooner. Not that I wanted an end at all. But because that's where we ended up anyways, we might as well have saved us a lot of time. People talk about cherishing or focusing on the good stuff... and let me tell yah, having been outside the good stuff for a while I really wish none of it ever happened. This isn't usual for me. I like to think I'm rather the optimist. But with you babe, I spent all my optimism. This isn't to say I didn't have a blast, feel love more intensely then ever imaginable... that's the issue really. I believed you were my one, my soulmate, twinflame, kindred spirit, partner in crime, better half, companion, lover, any other names I'm missing? Someone I've been with in many lives before this one maybe... (I don't know if I believe that sort of thing anymore, but with you I did.)
Horror of Queerness
Pride was for other people when I was younger. Living in the Midwest didn’t really give me a lot of insight into what queerness is. Despite having a bisexual mother and trans neighbor I had no honest idea what it was. There were a ton of examples of it growing up. Both problematic and I suppose as unproblematic as they could be at that time.
Hello, excuse me... The crackling voice on the phone held the same Bitter, affluent tone that always preceded the Transaction.
Eavesdropping Sleepy Mission (Unofficial) Challenge Update
Alright, y'all - I dropped the ball a little. I posted this challenge, forgot about it, extended the deadline, forgot again, annnnnd welllllllll.... you might be able to see where this is going. There may be another deadline-extension at play, here. Turns out, I'm not a very good promoter!
Storm Warning (1951)
*Spoiler Alert* It is rare to talk about Doris Day coupled with threat and menace. Storm Warning is a dark melodrama from 1951 which features the story of sisters Marsha (Ginger Rogers) and Lucy (Doris Day).
My life is meaningless Without a child I refuse to feed myself myths, like: I am self-sufficient. I am an artist. My family is still a family without a child in it. There is no infant-sized hole in my life.
Telltale crimson trail
I'd seen gray snow, I'd seen brown, mushy snow on the highway. I'd seen yellow snow too, but this was the first time I had seen pink snow. The sight of it turned my stomach. The crimson stain had grown into a shadow, an outline, like an island. The spatter from the blow had left a telltale bloody trail leading away from the gaping wound in the victim's head.
The anticipation to see her, finally, was too much. I stood with the bouquet of red, thorny foliage by my side, waiting for her to take its place.
Margaret Anderson wrung the white dress over the sink, desperately attempting to remove the bloodstain. It had been her grandmother's and her mother's, and then hers, lace enveloping the body to showcase feminine beauty, tailored to perfection.
Why are you like this? I’m angry at you for this, but also myself. . I want to tell you, but if I do, I hurt you. I don’t want you hurt.
The phone rings I see it Its eyes fixate on mine The only perceivable thing Peering out from its silhouette void The phone trills sharply
Like Two Magnets
When the opposite pole of two magnets comes together, they attract each other because the line of force points in the same direction. When the like pole of two magnets comes close, they repel each other because the direction of the line of force is opposite.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 It’s early the next morning, and the second day without Preston. Mary and Nia are in pajamas and supposed to login from their home office soon; they both work the 4:00am to noon shift.
Red Redux in E Minor
I am the red Did you understand that The Adam-red wind carries the deer’s stumble into a soaring flight The red you spat out shifts and crumbles into the frantic, frozen air
Vocal Book Club: Trust by Hernan Diaz
In Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens (published in English in 2014) we are reminded of how much fiction underpins our lives. Fiction, Harari argues, is one of the great engines of culture. Religion is a story many choose, collectively, to believe: it is the story that creates culture and cohesion. He uses the example of a brand — Peugeot — to enquire how we imbue fictions with significance. What connection can anyone now make between a company founded in the early 19th century with the car manufacturer of today? What does the “Peugeot” symbol on the front of an automobile signify? There’s one answer: a story. Perhaps you buy the car because, at some level, you believe the story.
i give and give and give some more you take and take and t a k e but you're just the first in line and i'm so
Shimmers Between Worlds
The ice crystals swirl in the freezing air, snow forming before his face. As the wind picks up, the snow shards move faster and faster in a flurry around his head, making him lose track of his surroundings. Not knowing which way is up and which is right, he shuts his eyes. When he opens them, he can see the image forming, clear as it can be through the blizzard happening before this wall of ice - he sees himself from the back, trading goods at an outdoor market - in another world, another life. He sees where he is somewhere else. Another gust of wind and a new flurry of snow, reveals the image of him cozy in a cabin, before a warming fireplace, holding his newborn daughter, his wife sitting beside them - a family he doesn't have here.
- Billy -
— Migration — THE Sponsor, Cousin Billy Kantor, would bring relatives escaping Russian Persecuting Pogroms filtering 2-3 at a time through Ellis Island, the Immigration reception area in New York. Not far from the Statue of Liberty, "Give us your Tired your Poor." And, putting them to work in his Haberdashery. "Billy Sells for Less" Sioux City, Iowa. Of course the suit-tie-and fedora were the 'Dress Code' of the day; probably not the case today.
Top story Oh what a glory To wake up and see You’ve beat an untold number of contenders today Oh hooray What a wonderful day
I open the front door sitting on the stoop, pulling my blanket tighter around my shoulders. Cupping my steamy mug in my hands, pondering. I can smell it in the air, the crisp, frosty humidity. It's different from the sticky wetness you feel in the summer and the dry prickling breeze of the temperate desert winters. This cold seeps into your bones, you feel the steam in your nose and the dampness in your boots.