an isosceles love triangleIf two angles of one triangle are similar to two angles of another triangle, then the triangles are similar.an isosceles love triangle11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Recalling the memory of His geometry makes me sick with longing. That's the real reason I don't call Him every night, don't spend hours stuttering out words onto paper in some tremulous imitation of a love letter. The space I have behind conversation and human interaction is where He really lives, ready for me any time I need to remember. I don't even have to close my eyes before His own stare back at mine, revealing the storm clouds and stars that hover around His midnight-black pupils. The angles of His eyebrows, the slope of His nose, the arches of His eyelashes, the degrees of His gait, the radius of His smile when He sees me, the surface area of His strong embrace; sometimes the formulas back me into a corner where I try to understand, try to meticulously calculate every possible equation. I never solve for the answer before I snap out of my stupor, realizing His abs
CENSOR THIS 08880CENSOR THIS 0888013 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I remember when I know why the cage bird sings
was challenged for the "encouragement to take action
in premarital sex, homosexuality, and the use of
I remember when the Bible was banned and/or
challenged for being "pornography and obscene"
in Alaska and Pennsylvania in 1993.
I remember when the The Autobiography of
Malcolm-X was challenged in Flordia in 1994--
because it was "racist against white people"
I remember when Jambo Means Hello: The Swahili
Alphabet was charged with "degrading white
children" although it was a book for white children to
understand the African-American culture much better.
I remember when Daddy's Roomate was removed
by most libraries by most of the United States---for
~Artpolitics handbooks~Artpolitics handbooks11 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Interesting links :
- http://www.petersingerlinks.com/ : info about Peter Singer, animal rights activist and Professor of Bioethics at the University Center for Human Values, Princeton University
- http://www.churchofeuthanasia.org : Church of Euthanasia, a group of people against human supremacy
- http://www.calvin.edu/academic/cas/gpa/ww2era.htm#Posters : Nazi propaganda archive : all about National Socialism from orriginal German sources, translated in English
- http://www.propagandacritic.com/ : Basic info on propaganda. Noone is imune to all propaganda.
- http://www.lp.org/ : American Libertarian Party
- http://www.nazi.org/party/theory/ : Libertarian National Socialist Green Party
- http://www.nsm88.com/index2.html : American Nazi Party
- http://www.nsec-88.org/: National Socialist Education Center
- http://www.parecon.org/ : The Participatory Economics Project
- http://www.marxists.org/ : All about Marxism
- http://www.infoshop.org/ : All about Anarchism
101412PARALLAX101412PARALLAX11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
per aspera, ad astra.
to the angel of the halls of time:
in the space of those untold-thousand terminal
heartbeats silent; the treetop sunbeams gliding
some forest thaw in spring where he was static
bled like ruin and heather in the cloudshperes
she danced not far, and whether or not she felt
the dynamic of weathered-storm skyshallow, yet
untired he moved to make not a sound and thus
was fashioned the beginning of an end
splitting micasplitting mica10 years ago in Typographical More Like This
Uncloud the borealis of your eye, show your iceberg secrets
on an axis that intersects the surface
an axis that Greek geographers established as a reference line
from pole to pole. While Greece preserves the memory of itself in Rome,
its philosophers deduce morals from the nature of man
rather than from God
and baize of whitened-green mouldering
from the pews-sides
leaving naked wood
to the disturbance caused by a water droplet,
that will be smoothed out by gravity.
This complex folding over cannot be drawn, though its properties
can be specified in full mathematical detail.
∑ 2398 a & b (put > zero as quantum) α 161
A Sonnet CallA Sonnet Call11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
No anger fills me, though i'm rather pissed
as here I stand and testify with drawl
(by stand I mean I'm propped against a wall—
I conquered seven vodkas with a twist).
My call is for a woman I once kissed;
the girl back at the bar that stopped the brawl
and told me that I had one lovely call!
As firm as metal clasped around my wrist,
her love has grasped my heart and won't let go.
My lawyer said I should not say a word,
but I must tell the world about this treat!
Inebriated glee from head to toe
that frees my heart and makes my vision blurred…
oh officer, you make my life complete.
Working Without a NetWorking Without a Net12 years ago in Humor More Like This
I did what any of us would have done when learning that my Internet service had been shut down. I cried.
Actually, that's not completely true. The first thing I did was frantically dial up the campus tech people, who told me the problem would be resolved in an hour. Anyone who has ever dealt with Electronic Device Repairpersons should already know that "an hour" in their language translates into "sometime between an hour and the rapture."
So I waited an hour. Then I cried.
How could I possibly function without instant access to news, entertainment, and all that other stuff that's just sort of there? What could I do in place of checking my e-mail every 20 minutes and playing Slingo? This was a major problem.
But after a moment of despair, I dried my tears with the hanky of determination. I would not let this defeat me! I had lived happily before without the Internet and I could live the same way now! I only had to remember how.
I first tried reading an ancient text recording from when p
April FoolsApril Fools12 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
I've been waiting all day.
All day, I've been sitting in front of my TV waiting for the constant war updates to switch to a special report. They will go live to the White House where the President will be sitting at his desk with the same concerned expression he always issues himself.
"My fellow Americans," he will begin, "As you well know, we are currently in the midst of great toil and hardship. It cannot be denied that there have been significant casualties and obstacles facing the course of Operation Iraqi Freedom. But as we forge on, I feel it is necessary to tell you, as well as the entire world…"
"APRIL FOOLS!" Saddam Hussein will scream, jumping in front of the camera. Bush, laughing uproariously, will stand and put his arm around the Iraqi leader.
"Man, we got 'em but good, didn't we!" Bush will say to Saddam between guffaws.
"We sure did, bro!" he will reply, nearly in tears. "At first I didn't think all these months were gonna be worth it, but every single person in the worl
go down, in history,/go down, in history,9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he found me
and palmed off my dirt.
and made me read poetry
under the influence
in a parked Cadillac.
that first night
when he carried me upstairs
I counted ceiling beams
and named them after
elementary school teachers
who probably died
of emphysema the year I
learned to drive.
I am using him
to get well known
and he has grown-up food
in his fridge, so I
can stop going hungry.
I missed four meals last week
and I can see weight loss
in my shower drain,
in my round brush.
I hate that he has
a tie like my father's
and keeps tissues in his coat pockets
and offers me antacids before I
undo my mouth.
FateFate11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
Mind, I'm writing.Mind, I'm writing.11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Mind, I'm writing
A dark, untidy study. JACKSON slouches in his chair, smoking. Arrayed around him are six characters, all in shadow. JACKSON types a few words on his computer keyboard then pours himself some more whisky.
JACKSON: This isn't going anywhere!
GORDON: And you don't even get to screw it up and throw it away.
JACKSON: Oh, not again.
JACKSON: picks up bottle and looks at it suspiciously.
I hate it when they do that.
KATE: We're only trying to help.
JACKSON: You're not real.
GORDON: Define real, you bastard. Do you think I like this shadowy existence?
JACKSON: Shut up.
GORDON: You never finish anything, you slack, unimaginative moron. Stop knocking back the booze and write something.
JACKSON: shakes his head and pours more drink.
You're worse than my conscience. Which one are you, anyway?
GORDON: I think I'm the clichéd angry young man you called Gordon in a short story you never finished some two years ago now.
JACKSON: You think
Tea StainTea Stain13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"You call this bollage toast, man?
It's nowhere near done fully..
The middle bit's all burned'n'weird,
The outside bit is fluffy."
The toaster's broken inside,
And outside stands a goat..
And I am citing to the moon,
My tea stained suicide note.
"I can't believe I'm eating this."
I do wish he'd shut up..
In fact I'd wish this all away-
This blasted tea stained cup..
So many must have pondered it;
To leave it all and fly..
Fly to the moon ne'er looking back,
And let the morning die..
Yet, this cup's a might addictive,
And shalln't let me forget..
Yet seems my tea stained suicide,
Has not subsided yet..
And so, the middle of me's burning,
And outside's so unclear..
Why the devil there's a goat outside,
Is something rather queer..
The tea grows slowly strong and cold,
Like my unwritten note..
And I shall sip, and wait and wait,
Until the day I'm smote..
Pach, 31st night of Summer, MMII.
Grim PenanceGrim Penance12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was raining, pouring like a Biblical event on the sinners. Rain hit my face, slid off the edges of my hat in waves. It felt Biblical, certainly. I wanted to turn my eyes upward and let the water beat twin holes into my brain. I imagined I'd feel it happen with a child's look of wonder pointed at the clouds. A stupid, silly grin too.
The day I met Jack Silver, and by association Conrad Reynolds, was memorable not for the God-wrath behind thunderclaps, but for the way it smelled. Old. Musty. Missing that rebirth in air composition I associated with storms. So I blame the smell for the geriatric way I crossed the street and approached the door of Jack Silver on a miserable Wednesday morning. Jack had the sort of ass backwards name that had inspired Chandler to invent noir. It deserved mocking and admiration in equal doses.
He also lived in a shit-hole of an apartment, but at least it was out of th
New JobFirst day on the jobNew Job9 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"So," he said, leering at me over the table, messy sandwich in hand, "how long have you been eating yogurt?" My yogurt laden spoon paused in mid air, and in the moment it took me to think, (how long had I been eating yogurt? When was my first time?) I watched oily, shredded lettuce tumble from his sandwich onto the table. The question seemed loaded.
"Oh, probably only the last couple of years; you know, like, seriously." I said this airily, as his tone of voice had implied that this yogurt-eating habit of mine was a potential hot spot in our relationship. He said nothing, but continued to peer intensely across the table. His eyes might even have been narrowing. I felt, justly, exposed. I turned the yogurt cup nervously in my hands, and my averting eyes settled upon the nutrition facts. I suddenly began to read them off, and espouse the healthful qualities of yogurt, not for its defense, but for my own. He leaned back in his chair with revulsion as I finally dealt w
'ocean hunger''ocean hunger'11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The inky mass opened its many mouths; they gaped and retreated. The water always looked like a trained dolphin pulling itself through its daily routine, wanting only to be fed.
Camille wanted to sacrifice herself every day, that desire never left her. Beside that wide oceanic arm, she was less than a microbe, a speck. The water owned her. She was its possession. She owed it to the river, to feed it. And often the fall looked more inviting than a chocolate cake or a feather bed.
But she wouldn't jump, because then what would Harold do? He was not self-sufficient. His existence depended on her.
The river just kept shimmying along, through the track it had worn deep. No seagulls circled the water here. It was a no man's land of beaches that stunk like an collection of fish markets. Down below were stretches of salt and pepper sand with rubbish buried beneath like ostrich eggs. Some houses and buildings that replaced trees were fastened on the vast hills on either side of the river, attach
Murder By Silicon4th September 2042, 1:44 PMMurder By Silicon13 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The bar is small and rather empty, out of place amid the swirling holographs of the Green Line. I glance again at the entranceway, searching for whatever had caught my attention -- whatever had made me crane my neck outward instead of sitting as still as I have for the past couple of days -- but the unidentifiable something is gone.
The bench softens. I lean back and close my eyes and it molds itself against me, glows with synthetic warmth, massages until the tensions have worn themselves out of my neck and shoulders, and drains my credit account of $27.50; not that it matters. A few teenagers glance in my direction, eyes and minds half-focused on their VR sims; I ignore them and they fade into the crowd.
People trickle past.
The ceiling digiplane is moving: patterns play formlessly about the narrow enclosure, spinning in leisurely circles beneath the apex of the domed roof - and, I realize with a start, there is a dar
the king of pain and pleasureThe King Of Pain And Pleasurethe king of pain and pleasure11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the pale and misty evening
when the savage day is dying
and your eyes are dim with crying
there's a voice that calls your name.
Then the moonlight stains your pillow
and you know that you must follow
when you feel his spell upon you
and your body turns to flame,
for his skin is cream and honey
and his mouth is pomegranate
and the King of Pain and Pleasure is his name.
Ah, his voice is soft as snowfall
and his eyes are deep as oceans
and a silver bird lays sleeping
in his black and tangled hair.
He's half god and he's half human
and you long to be his woman
when you feel his breath upon you
and your body turns to flame,
for his skin is cream and honey
and his mouth is pomegranate
and the King of Pain and Pleasure is his name.
In the hour before daylight
when the stars are ice and fire
and you ache with dead desire
there's a whisper in your ear.
Then the nightwind stirs your cover
and you know that he's your lover
when you feel his hands upon you
The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 1I used to fear the night. The way all children do. You know the stories… monsters hiding under your bed, sandmen, wraiths, and all sorts of other evil things from hell whose only purpose was to stop a child's heart. For children are innocent and defenseless… .The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 110 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I used to draw the curtains closed. Not that it could stop monsters of course. But I thought if they could not see me they would forget me. But they never did… whenever I switched the light off, darkness embraced me; I heard those voices, whispers in the blackness. Everywhere… there were words in it, lots of words, but incomprehensible to me. Devilish. My eyes would open, but they continued to tease me. Always mocking me with laughter from spots I didn't look at. Finally I would turn on the lights and run to mama… crying…
My parents used to say there are no monsters. Mom said I should grow up and stop dreaming about nightmare creatures. Dad was a little more gentle. He said I was living in a dream world and that he understood. Bu
108801PLANESCAPE108801PLANESCAPE9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your shiver-smile is exultant.
i thought that
while i waited for the
suns to fall,
i would sing quietly
of the planescapes;
and how we, hand in hand
held the rising
jewels of the eternal apex
in that void, brimming with
life and interstellar
"your shiver-smile is exultant,"
i breathed in your ear
while you frosted over
and when again the suns
did climb to their zenith,
we were seen
as nothing less than
made of superstrings
the way people movethe way people move through you, leaningthe way people move9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in to tell the stories of their lives by the
places they've met you in. except you know
there's been words whited out, sentences
removed, and whole pages glued together:
secrets scrawled franticly onto transit stops
or dropped from wallets while crossing a set
of railway tracks before an early snowfall
Tips On Self-PublishingTips On Self-Publishing10 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Tips On Self-Publishing
I recently decided to self-publish a compilation of my work. It is something that I've wanted to do for a long time, but have always put off for several reasons; the imagined cost, basic lethargy in editing the damn thing, and laziness when it came to mail-outs to publishers. If this sounds like you so far, you might be able to benefit from a few things I learned along the way. Below I will discuss almost everything you will need to know before jumping into a self-publishing project, some pitfalls to avoid, and approximately what to expect to come out of your pocket. (I'm talking about money, pervert.)
Once I decided I was definitely going forward with this project, my first step was to find publishing houses/printers that offered the services that I wanted. There are many resources for this, but I found the below link most helpful in finding presses that would actually not only turn around a quote quickly,