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Brittney Gilbert
San Francisco
Recent Activity
There is a ghost living in my neighborhood, if you can call that living. She stumbles from corner to corner, often hanging from someone's arm, a different someone every time. Her hair is bleached blonde with dark roots. It is... Continue reading
Posted Apr 10, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
Everywhere there were roads. Sometimes it seemed like that was all there was. Miles and miles of ashphalt and pastures smeared by speed. All those things left unsaid in the cab of a little Ford. Everywhere meant driving. Walking meant... Continue reading
Posted Apr 1, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
I made him fish, the wild kind. I bought a heavy bag full of oranges, sliced them then strangled them for their juices. I minced bulbs and made dressing from scratch and reduced liquid to a shiny glaze. "It's sweet,"... Continue reading
Posted Mar 27, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
It is when I am lonely that I show my face in hopes you will click it twice and reveal a heart. Even though that heart hasn't pumped a drop of blood, I will run my eyes through a filter... Continue reading
Posted Mar 18, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
He fought the fires he built. Tears blurred the ink-written phone number. "This Daddy loves you," he said. The dog's chain broke its neck. He couldn't hear the crying stop. Continue reading
Posted Mar 13, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
Me: "Hey, I worked out this morning." Co-worker: (gives me an evil death stare) "I was only awoken nine times last night by the baby. Nine times. Every hour or so. Now we're in a cycle where my wife is... Continue reading
Posted Mar 11, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
"Español?," the old shop owner asks me. "Pequeño," I lie. "Are you Russian? You look Slavic." I shook my head no. "I'm German, I guess." "That's it?" He cocked his head to one side, his face that of a person... Continue reading
Posted Mar 9, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
Thank you, ladies.
Toggle Commented Mar 5, 2014 on After October at Sparkwood & 21
"It is hard to be without him in this city. There are pieces of him everywhere." A woman with smooth brown hair and a French accent is telling a tale of heartbreak between sips of hot chocolate piled high with... Continue reading
Posted Mar 4, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
Before long we'll never be in that room again. We'll never fill its space with our sighs. We'll never fog up its windows with our heat. We'll never lie on its floor, limbs and fingers and mouths and even our... Continue reading
Posted Feb 23, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
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On Sunday as I sat across from my boyfriend at brunch, my plans were to share a meal with him and then spend the rest of the day reading or writing or both. He'd made mention of needing to write... Continue reading
Posted Jan 23, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
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There is an epidemic amongst San Francisco service industry professionals and the plague from which so many of them suffer is contempt. Contempt for customers. Contempt at the world that they can't be practicing with their noise band SatanScratcher at... Continue reading
Posted Jan 9, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
I don't know what he was trying to say to me, but I know feeling vulnerable on the train, feeling like you know someone when you don't. I know sitting helplessly as eyes brim with tears, being unable to control... Continue reading
Posted Jan 7, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
I was worried. I always worry. I called him twice the night before, but no answer. Not even acknowledgement the following day that I'd rung. I was worried. I always worry. When I saw him last night I cried into... Continue reading
Posted Jan 1, 2014 at Sparkwood & 21
Baked an apple pie from scratch Told a story on stage to a room full of strangers Went back to New York on vacation and enjoyed every second Fell in love, though that is an understatement Made a real mean... Continue reading
Posted Dec 31, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
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Sometimes I have so much to say, so many stories to tell that I don't know where to start, so I don't start at all. I worry I'll hurt someone, or that a person I love very much will get... Continue reading
Posted Dec 30, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
He was screaming into her jeans. Every inhalation was ragged, his entire body stuttering as he tried to take in air. Every exhalation was a desparate declaration: "You are making me cry." He looked to be four, no more. His... Continue reading
Posted Dec 22, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
I feel as if my entire life has been rushing like a river to this place where the water is still and easy and vast. Continue reading
Posted Dec 20, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
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It's nearly Christmas and the 40th birthday of someone I love, so I made a pie. I'd never even made a pie with a pre-made crust, but I wanted to make one from scratch so I read about making pies... Continue reading
Posted Dec 18, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
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Bananas are gross, everybody. It's clear not everyone agrees, because I see you shoving those disgusting fruit tubes into your mouths on the train, in the meeting, even feeding it to your unsuspecting children who are too weak to defend... Continue reading
Posted Dec 1, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
It's raining. In San Francisco, rain is winter. Rain is dark months and tall boots and holidays. I look back on last winter and laugh at all the stupid things I thought I knew. Laugh at how again I ignored... Continue reading
Posted Nov 19, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
in the mornings, bone against bone, the sun threatening us with you i feel big enough to stop clocks with a snap of fingers fingers that, if I could freeze time, would find their way into that mouth of yours... Continue reading
Posted Nov 18, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
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This morning I got up at the break of dawn to have a part of my body removed. See that thing on the side of my neck? It's not there anymore. It was a giant mole that I've had since... Continue reading
Posted Nov 13, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
The pieces of his past that he shares with me are blades of glass. I store every shard under my skin. They cut us both when he touches me. Continue reading
Posted Nov 12, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21
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A man with long hair wears a purple sweatshirt, lavendar in shade. He stands beside a purple door, under a purple sign drinking something warm enough to steam from a delicate fine china mug. A group of people are running.... Continue reading
Posted Nov 8, 2013 at Sparkwood & 21