all things are in themselves and incomplete my wife is still my own and someone else my life is still my own and something else my dreams are still my own and someone else’s dreams are different things. you shake two packs of sugar out into your coffee. no one else will feel the paper in your hands or taste the creamer. no one else is walking down the road, […]
Archive | August, 2014
Lindsey Wayland| Diary of a Hitchhiker
“…your heart is completely exposed. There is no skin or tissue covering it; it is pure raw meat. Even if a tiny mosquito lands on it, you feel so touched. Your experience is raw and tender and so personal.” — Chögyam Trungpa HITCHHIKING IS INSTINCTUAL. Hitchhiking thawed out my instincts in the summer of 2009. Occasionally in the pool of condensation I’d sit stunned that I trusted so purely—my heart pure raw meat. […]
Jenean McBrearty | The woman in blue
FEW PEOPLE REMEMBER WALTER NEFF. Why should they? When the story came out that he and Phyllis Didrikson conspired to kill her husband to collect on a double indemnity insurance policy, the Daily Tribune reported it on page eighteen of Tuesday’s edition. That kind of notoriety wouldn’t deter a twelve-year-old. That’s how old David Kelly was when the photo of Phyllis caught his eye as he was cleaning his grandmother’s […]
Pamela Burditt | Charlie
“I’VE WAITED ALL MY LIFE to put that son-of-a-bitch six feet under. I don’t know what the hell I’m cryin’ for now,” my father said, to no one in particular. Tears rolled down his cheek as he struck a match. My father always smelled of Dial soap, Old Spice and Marlboro’s. On that chilly, gray November day, all three filled my nose as I watched cigarette smoke swirl up and […]
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