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Palinode
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And yeah, what's with your hair? That is some thick, lustrous stuff. I envy that crop of darkness on your head.
Toggle Commented Feb 22, 2011 on And now, a word from my wife at TwoBusy
1 reply
She's not going to say it, so I will: you were the most attentive and sensitive lover I ever had. You spooned afterwards and everything. And when I started crying softly, you sang me Van Halen songs until the peace in my soul was restored. Even though I asked for Guns and Roses songs. But you knew best.
Toggle Commented Feb 22, 2011 on And now, a word from my wife at TwoBusy
1 reply
That was like a Voltron of great lines assembled into a fearsome machine of writing.
Toggle Commented Feb 10, 2011 on Halfway at TwoBusy
1 reply
The last season of Lost turned out to be the biggest pile of bullshit I'd ever seen. The last few seconds with Jack and the dog got me choked up, but it didn't make up for the pan-denominational church reunion in limbo. Or any of the Sideways universe business. Or the Smoke Monster in Locke's body. Or any of it, really.
1 reply
The dog entered on the south east end of the Experience just as the evening show was starting overhead. Little knots of people, t-shirts clinging to their backs, gazed up at the LED lights, not noticing the dog as it slipped between them, tacking back and forth up the Strip. Darryl caught the dog on monitor 05 as it crossed into the camera's field of view. The dog had its eyes on the people, alert for danger, watching the families - for someone it recognized, maybe, or just on the lookout to avoid potential threats. Children, cops, all unpredictable. Check... Continue reading
Posted Dec 13, 2010 at Polite Fictions
Palinode is now following We Covet
Oct 27, 2010
I read this piece three or four times in a row. Good work.
Toggle Commented Sep 16, 2010 on What Happens After Summers End at Polite Fictions
I just can't abide it. Time, that is.
Toggle Commented Sep 9, 2010 on The Lie of After at Polite Fictions
After you leave me I clean out the fridge and think about someone else to fuck. Old collapsing peppers, a carton of mold, an order of szechuan beef that tasted of heat and sugar. Someone's out there, someone on whom I can unleash the tired months, the framed Klimt poster, the little midden of shoes in the hallway. The poster is gone. The cheese is pumpkin orange and the texture of paraffin. I pinch off a crumbled little corner and run it over my tongue. After you leave me I move through the apartment, plucking out everything that marked our... Continue reading
Posted Aug 30, 2010 at Polite Fictions
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I keep on going back to that image of all the pill bottles on the shelf. It takes a lot to deal with the stuff you've been dealing with and manage to rise above it. Kudos to you.
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2010 on 4 years. at Undomestic Diva
Very nice.
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2010 on What Happens After the Kiss at Polite Fictions
No, no! Your recollection of my cursing at Kevin is faulty! What I actually said to him, two or three times, was "The future, motherfucker!" I said this to him because - well, I don't recall, but it had something do with Kevin, the future, and motherfuckers. And I apologized to him the next day, but I think I broke my apology by cursing at him again.
1 reply
Someone needs to interview Obama right away and ask him about circles.
Toggle Commented Jul 17, 2010 on What Happens After You Check In at Polite Fictions
That's like a Godard film stocked with performing arts grads. I'm going to go read that again now.
Not only a hoot, but also a holler. I hope Zimbabwe can work out its politics as New Kandor.
Thanks. I do wish I had more than a scene, though.
Glass by glass, Benny Ostrogoth was reversing his position on drunk women. “I dunno,” the drunk woman said, her head dipping briefly down to the bartop, “You’re funny – and kind of cute?” “Kind of, yes,” agreed Benny. He made a circular motion over the bar with his index finger, the universal sign for two more of the same. Drunk women, Benny was coming to realize, formed a vital part of any bar’s ecosystem. They took in desperation and, by an invisible chemical conjunction, emitted a faint aerosol of hope. Eventually they would wear away – and sometimes the reaction... Continue reading
Posted Jun 24, 2010 at Polite Fictions