“hello, trouble.” “we’re using nicknames now? very well. hello, goner.” “why goner?” “why trouble?” “i asked first.” “fine. because you are.” “in what way?” “oh, come on. don’t tell me you’re going to play oblivious now.” “i’m not playing anything. i’m not even pretending to know what you’re talking about. i just asked you a…
Read MoreAll articles filed in writing
fragment | iv
“you know, you don’t have to keep doing this.” “doing what?” “explaining.” “explaining?” “explaining situations. reassuring people. what do you think they’ll think?” “who said i thought they think anything?” “you did.” “no i didn’t. when?” “only for the past twenty minutes.” “what?” “every time it even remotely could come up as a question you…
Read Morefragment | iii
“… it was one of those moments when your heart gives a wrench and you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe, and all you can manage to say is … ‘oh.’” “and?” “and … what?” “and what is the point?” “what do you mean, ‘what is the point’?” “what sort of reaction were you hoping…
Read Morecopy-catting
supposedly imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. it’s fun every so often to find a piece of writing or poetry that inspires you and then play with it using your own words. i did that once with a lovely love poem — it was shy and happy, and i re-wrote it in antonyms. of…
Read Moretruth’s stranger than fiction … if you word it correctly
once upon a time, there was a girl who was very sleepy and liked coffee and books and ruins of castles or abbeys or things like that, and music. that was a lot of things to like, but she managed to find time for them all. anyhow, once upon a sleepy monday, she was even more…
Read Morenotes from a darkened room
can i write in the dark? i do not mind the dark except it makes it hard to see the lines on which my pen is running. i do not mind the dark, because being in the dark with people i don’t know is almost as good as being alone. if you can’t see the…
Read Morefractured fairy tale
she had the sort of disposition rumored to turn princes into frogs, and a face to match. soured, they called her, or shrunken — like a rosebud caught in the cold and frost-burned before it had a chance to bloom. unlovely was she, and unloving. grasping, shunning, temperamental, self-absorbed — the complete antithesis of what a…
Read Morethe type-written word
while committing a post-tax completion file purge this afternoon i came across the following piece of writing, which appears to be a stream-of-consciousness work on … whatever came to mind. it’s not dated, but i think it’s from the second semester of my junior year at KU. here it is for your enjoyment (though bewilderment…
Read Morefragment | ii
“you know, i would never have taken you for the hard-boiled type.” “no one asked you to take me as anything.” “mm. can’t break eggs without ruffling a few feathers, i guess.” “what kind of a mixed metaphor is that?” “was it? i’d like to mix you a metaphor sometime. do you prefer yours shaken…
Read Morefragment
“i am going to beat you with my slipper,” she said, and she meant it. yet all he did was laugh. he had seen her slippers, after all.
Read More