Never does he ever care, and worse, never does he ever KNOW. It was around this time that his husband’s fury sparked into a tiny flame. “What do you mean you don’t care?” his husband demands. “It’s about us. It’s always about us. It’s about the deep rooted hatred toward men like us.” Continue reading
Bathe? Bathe, you say? I only bathe twice a week and never on a Wednesday, darling.
Not that it matters to you, per se, but it matters, and it matters because—I’ll have you know—it was quite the success. Everyone arrived; everyone ate; the cake was fantastic; everyone left, and I was swimming laps on the roof by eight o’clock, pee em, which put me in bed around ten. Who celebrates birthdays anymore, as adults?
Monophobia, defined as, the fear of a singular perspective, being regarded as single-minded, Continue reading
With forty-eight books left to read this calendar year, I can’t afford to not read over the course of a single day. No matter the day, no matter what else is going on, I gotta get a few pages in, real pages, not that fake reading that the internet demands. Continue reading
… like train tracks.
… like a recipe. Continue reading
Hi! My name is Dei, and I am a small, about one-and-a-half or, two centimeters tall celadon pig figurine. Typically, I spend the day perched upon whichever surface my keeper decides requires a bit of luck on any given day. Fortunately, my keeper has a partner who also is a keeper. My keeper’s partner’s lucky pig’s name is Ji. Continue reading
[ continued from yesterday … ]
And then it was Silence’s turn to get to work on them. Framed in a deep cherry rests the stapled canvas slathered in paint depicting the scene of a small girl child seated cross-legged upon a deep Persian rug looking out toward the viewer, at something small on her left shoulder. In front and to the right of her, a kneeling male figure postured in a gesture of pleading or curiosity looks harmless. With only the back of his head depicted, knowing what he thinks remains impossible. Continue reading
Warm, nearing hot, the sun blasts through the unusually large set of windows that essentially creates the south-facing wall of the tiny attic space. Twinkles of light catch crusted pieces of dust as they are thrust from the place of their death into a new life, swimming through the unknown, toward an unknowable end. The direction of the light rays slice diagonally through the space and shed light solely upon two human figures. Continue reading