ConformingConforming8 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Conforming to the Counter Culture: Costa Mesa's SoBeCa District
Maybe it's the rusted metal bars intersecting dangerously overhead, or the graffiti that covers the walls on either side, but something about this place leaves you feeling like you've just walked into the wrong side of town. And you're not really sure you want to leave.
It's 6 p.m. and the lights have finally come on in this small, post-apocalyptic alleyway, spilling over the enormous slabs of concrete and broken tile that scatter the ground. Each of the buildings that line the edges is distinct in its own respect, causing the place to look almost like an abandoned art gallery. First there's Arth, a hat store with a devotion to combining art and fashion; then there's Blends with its refrigerated shoe and clothing selection. The two lime-green shipping containers to the left come together to form the Artery (a portmanteau of the words "art" and "gallery") and tonight's performers can be heard tuning up all the way from the
The One Where The Cake IgnitesThe One Where The Cake Ignites9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Phoebe is in Central Perk with Ross.
Ross is writing a poem to Rachel,
unlikely as this may seem. Phoebe
listens to him recite it, then Chandler
walks in on the last few lines: "And Joey
is a noey like Hannukah with Monica,
so you see, you're left with me." "Monica
and Hannukah?" says Chandler. "Gee, Ross,
I thought you quit poetry." (Titles) Joey,
elsewhere, is cooking with Rachel.
They're baking a birthday cake for Chandler.
Joey's idea. They're counting on Phoebe
to keep him stalled. So, naturally, Phoebe
tells Chandler to write a poem for Monica.
"It's Phoebe's poetry workshop!" Chandler
relents, but writes four lines for Ross:
"Oh Ross/So cross/Becoss/Of Rachel."
Monica arrives in the flat to find Joey
and Rachel cooking. She screams. Joey
belts her - she falls unconscious. Phoebe
senses violence, contacts Rachel
psychically. "Something just happened to Monica!"
Chandler's ode has riled Ross.
He demands satisfaction from Chandler,
produces two pistols, whereupon Chandler
Coalwho breaks their back, and lines their cageCoal8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with glass to hold their power? Like a quiet
finch, tar-covered and hunched over
its child, murmuring a gentle salve.
we wrench as a reed in the flow of
a mighty wind, that crushes our chests
and snaps our legs. We hold our liquid hearts
in the fleshy sieves of our cupped hands.
down the plateau of the cheek
I burn, I sizzle.
I am only coal, within a great fireplace.
Black and ordinary, but I can yet
spit from the fire, heatedly
like an angry snake.
I may terrify. Let my rough edges split
the yolks of rotten eggs,
As I come to the shimmering surface.
The Bird"Found a bird in delta." I say.The Bird8 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
John doesn't stir, so I repeat.
"Said a bird flew in. Little scrawny thing, but it got in."
"What I thought. But it did."
I can hear John stretch out in the bunk above me, the ancient springs groaning as his body and muscles shift across them.
"Where's the leak?"
"Sally's looking. Be in delta though - can't of got through a bulkhead."
"Better not be delta two."
I nod, because neither of us want it in delta two.
"What sort of bird?"
"Little scrawny bastard, don't know. Could look him up."
John swings himself off the top bunk, and sits down on the end of my bed to do his boots up.
"Nah. Still loose?"
"Hope he gets out."
And then we laugh, because it's just such a normal thing to think, because birds should be out, shouldn't they?
Three MinutesThree MinutesThree Minutes8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
So what if I am.
She didn't like considering the possibilities of pregnancy. It was a surreal state of being reserved for women in their middle twenties to early thirties (she was twenty-three, but this didn't matter). It was for the adult world, which she was separate from and had always been separate from. It seemed like schools and television went out of their way to extend youth, so why couldn't biology as well?
I could get an abortion.
She sat on the side of the bathtub and stared at her fingertips while she waited. The test was balanced on the edge of the sink. Just a little piece of plastic with a damp, now yellow-tinged stub jutting out of one end, harmless-looking and generic. She'd never been afraid of anything else so much in her life, except for maybe talking to her parents. She was pretty scared of that too. The clock on the bathroom wall ticked methodically every secon
Fast Acting Kool GluDear Fast Acting Kool Glu Company,Fast Acting Kool Glu7 years ago in Humor More Like This
Hello. My name is Joy B_________ and I have been a loyal customer since second grade. Your product has been very useful to me in my many school projects and with personal problems at home. I used Kool Glu to put together my fourth grade science fair project. I made a volcano. I also used your product when I accidentally broke my mother's two thousand dollar Ming vase. The incident involved a baseball bat. Don't ask. I even used your product when I accidentally broke my retainer in half. Coincidentally, this incident also involved a baseball bat. Unfortunately, I didn't let the glue sit long enough and I was unable to remove my retainer from my mouth for about four days until I could find a tube of Fast Acting Kool Glu Remover. I also don't think it was in my best judgement to use your product in my mouth.
PalestinePalestine8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Homes being torn down
to make room for better people
It starts with a family still inside
As the tank moves
a small boy starts to cry
The fear chokes him
He goes blind
The older boy who escaped
tries to defend his home
throwing rocks at the tank
He is seized by men with AKs
The fear chokes him
wetness drips down his pants
A man teaches his son to pray
in the house of God
until tanks surround them
and soldiers destroy the peace
Three laugh as they fire their weapons
at the son
The father stands over his limp body
in a last act of defiance
More bullets fly, hitting mosaics on the wall
spelling "God, the most merciful" in flowing Arabic script
One shot missed, he's paralyzed
more laughing as another hits its target
in between his eyes
He falls over his son
This is Palestine
This is Hell
KH: This is RealI'm Roxas, but ... I'm not just myself.KH: This is Real8 years ago in Drama More Like This
I'm you ...
Everything you see, I see. Everything you know, I know. Everything you feel, I feel. Or at least I remember how it is to feel from what you remember.
Is that all I am?
A reflection made from your memories?
But I'm different than you even if it's only a little bit. You're more optimistic and cheerful than me. You have friends that remember you and are waiting for you to come back to them. No matter where you go, you'll always have a home to go back to.
You have a family.
A mother's touch. I only remember from your memories how that feels like. Firm and gentle, warm and comforting. And when she holds you in her arms, it's like you're being welcomed home.
Do you know how lucky you are?
Lucky to go where you want to; to do what you want to do; to say what you want to say.
To feel what you want to feel.
These emotions I feel -- No. I don't have a heart, so I can't feel. I can only remember how to feel from what I felt when I was still a pa
there’s a drawing room...there's a drawing room hidden insidethere’s a drawing room...10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my right pinky. I go there sometimes when I can't
sleep. I have found all I have to do is bring
some peaches and imagine I have a red hat on
and it will let me in. I realize that this is where I keep
my poetry, and where I kept that poem I wrote
in my dream, which I thought I had lost. It turns out
it was bad, anyway, but it was dripping with honey
so I licked it and stored it away under my left middle toe.
that is my storage closet.
my soul is located in the back of my right knee. I visit
when I can and talk to it through high frequency brain
waves when I can't sleep. it's nice, but very boring and sometimes
I don't like what it has to say. but it's my soul, and do your
brain and soul have to agree, really? God will meet me there
on occasion when I'm feeling lonely and
then he'll move and whisper into my left ear.
I can see things out of the palm of my hand.
I yell at it to start the show! Start the show! but it is limp
and can only show me a scrol
But in absence of the heartBut in absence of the heart9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't want elongated days
or shadows that curve & stalk round corners
or even segmented hours,
the next one unattainable.
I never look too far forward
in fear of
the second after eternity
and then nothing will go to plan.
Atop a hill that whispers to the clouds
there lies valleys only seen from here,
valleys usually pathways trodden
to see this monstrous mound
(and not so deep at all).
And gloomy seas set in feathered cliffs,
the rocks are sharp to touch
but from the shore
are statuesque and sculpted
by indecisive tides
that tease my toes
in knowledge they have seen the hidden seabed
& I have not.
I wonder if the deeper sand
is swished around like the sand upon the shore
never here or there
or sometimes taken away
& never seen again.
There are no stories to be told
with each survivor engulfed
and persuaded (only by distance)
to ensure they are secrets kept.
Or if the grains of sand between my toes
have seen it all
but dare not speak
FantasyEvery single night I dream of you,Fantasy8 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Wishing that I could be with you,
Will you ever see, will you ever be
The love I want you to give to me,
Can I be your fantasy,
Can I make all your dreams come true,
Holding you tight, saying it'll be alright,
Can I be your fantasy tonight?
Once more I'll fall asleep with you on my mind,
Knowing that you will be mine in due time,
Still I want to know, can you ever show,
The love I want you to return,
Can I be your fantasy,
Can I make all your dreams a reality,
Holding you close, whispering those words,
Can I be your fantasy tonight?
Isaac's Final BreathHe saw it. He was sure of it. They all did. Even if it were but a brief moment, the four adepts saw him. It was Saturos. Like a shadow, he made his way up the enormous mountain.Isaac's Final Breath8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"So, we're gonna chase him, right?" the redhead, Garet had asked. Even in the wind, his spiky hair stood stiff and tall, just like him.
Isaac nodded silently, his messy blonde hair running over his face. He could not let that man escape. It wasn't just his yearning to stop Saturos' insane plot, but also rage and revenge. Saturos was the main reason Isaac's father had died, he was also responsible for kidnapping his childhood friend, Jenna, along with an old man, Kraden.
"Isaac, I'm not sure if we should chase," Mia said skeptically. Even she, a Mercury adept, shivered in frigid winds, tucking her body inside her icy-blue robe. "Saturos is a dangerous man, and the climb will tire us out, while he'll easily keep his energy." Mia's long sapphire hair was constantly falling over her eyes in these conditions.
Front Page News"Hey! Mr. Miller, sir, I have that story you…" He let the door of the elevator close, shutting out the young intern and the rest of the 31st floor. God, he was sick of this place. People always yelling and screaming and running, rushing in and out and every which way, unconcerned about anything except for that ever ticking clock on the wall, sitting high above the bustling employees as if it itself were in fact the manager of the place. Or the overseer. Pushing and pushing them without so much as a word, its foot tapping impatiently as the seconds went by, unheard through the activity below, yet felt all the same. Its black whip raised high towards noon, poised for its impending fall towards six; the sting felt throughout the building by all those unprepared for when it hit.Front Page News8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
And Sulzberger. Sulzberger did nothing but make things worse. Riding everyone as hard as he could, never satisfied with anything, even when he got the stories he wanted. Of course, that didn't make
i was just drowning duckكلماتك تعيد تنشيط خيالى المجنحاi was just drowning duck8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
بالدعوات وصدق الكلمات بهذا افرحا
دفعتنى لاطلق خيالى بعد ان ترنحا
اطلقتنى حرا لارى صدقا طائرا وتسامحا
فدومى بالخير والخير لك فقد التق
The Dress She WearsThe Dress She WearsThe Dress She Wears8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It rides the slow curve of her hips
pulls tight against them as she walks
her gait confined to conscious steps.
Not long enough to be lady-like,
too long to be whorish, it falls
heavily over tired thighs, licking
the tops of her knees. The neckline
plunges. A greedy vice, it squeezes
the bulk of her heavy breasts up
until they spill out for all to see.
Its coarse and jealous-green fabric
scratches her most delicate places
rubbing them raw, I know, until
her skin weeps a salty pink.
Made before we were born, it is
given us by our mothers and theirs
before. It suits us just the same.
The dress she wears is thin as skin
and frayed beyond repair. Lined
with fear and trimmed with guilt,
I put mine on each morning, as if
it were the only one I'll ever need.
The NoldorMighty are the Second Kindred,The Noldor7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Strong and brave and fair;
Fierce they are and proud,
Tall and dark of hair;
Filled with passion and iron of will,
A two edged sword this can be.
Never do they turn aside from their propose,
From no enemy do they flee.
Ache their hands do to craft and create,
Beloved of the Smith are they.
Burn their minds do for knowledge,
But into folly they sometimes stray.
Lovers of hills and open lands,
The Watchtower their first home.
Many other glorious kingdoms did they build,
Seven High Kings they have known.
fistful of fightfistful of fight9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like fistfuls of red
She borrowed knives from wolves
To accessorize with her own
Sat on heights
Before I became wild fire…
But as I settled as ash...
There was no phoenix to
Fill my day.
(An army that reeked of February 2006)
Powerful guns that owned
Men who had strength
That wasn't their own.
…They were pumped with fear
That made them feel
Our master plan was
To escape to an island,
And here I am;
Alone on an island,
With a War(I)saw from afar…
And a gun I withdraw
Which I sometimes call talk.
Tears in HeavenTears in HeavenTears in Heaven8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Nate River had gone by many names over the years, and yet he often felt that none really suited him quite the way he would have liked. Most recent had been the addition of a new code name, L, along with the sub-categorical personas of Erald Coil, Danuve, and a few others that he had developed on his own. L was fine when it came to work, but it lacked a personal feel to it. Nate wasnt sure why that bothered him, given his pre-disposition to sitting alone in corners twirling his hair. But it did bother him, and as the years passed he had stopped questioning the feeling and simply let it remain, buried, festering.
And so it did remain, like other feelings he had taken a few moments out to classify and then toss aside over the course of his life. Feelings, that went by other names, all blank and invisible letters that identified him by face but not by heart.
N, another name, was an older façade than L. N was the product of a child trying to become a
The Travels of Mr. WalkerThe Travels of Mr. Walker9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mr. Walker poses as derelict
against a bus stop pole under early November.
He's got headphones pushing drunkard's music
down his empty body
like caulk, popping out his toes
beat by beat into a rain puddle.
He likes to pretend it's a movie,
to pretend there's a cigarette in his mouth,
to pretend he has killed before.
The city just keeps on digesting him,
sloshing him around
past hospitals, agencies, brothels-turned-art stores,
until the rectum, the school--the library.
He'll have a coffee, watch the rain
start and stop again.
He likes to get lost wading amongst shit,
to pay too much for a croissant,
to act like he has time for little things.
He finds a payphone,
calls the busy signal at his home
just to check up on things. Tired-eyed,
Mr. Walker will find a seat in his favorite quiet room
and sigh a few times.
An old friend will come from nowhere,
ask him how or what he's doing.
He wants to say, "I once left my soul in this room
and I intend to get it back."
Abnormal, but unspecificAbnormal, but unspecific7 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
At 25, almost half of Riikka's life has been spent with being sick and visiting doctor after doctor. She would surely have better things to do. There's nothing she hates as much as doctors and she has nightmares about visits where she's humiliated. That hasn't been unusual. Even now, doctors treat her condescendingly, like a kid. It took over a decade to obtain a diagnosis.
There have been dozens and again dozens of doctors over the years, neurologists, opthalmologists, infection specialists and rheumatologists. It certainly feels like they couldn't care less what happens to Riikka. They're constantly trying to push physiotherapy, something Riikka has been doing for years, even though she doesn't have much mobility left any longer.
Riikka is sick with something many doctors don't even believe in and that officially doesn't exist in Finland, even though it has been included in WHO's official ICD-10 for a long time. In many countries it's known as myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME). In Finla