The taste of the future is a lot like a bathtub full of lemon juice. A punch that you can sit in. A swerve ball of solar plexus centrifuge that calls you home like targets call the answering machines of arrows on rainy nights just to hear their voices. If calculators had souls, they’d be rectangular. Parallelograms of solace and want, needing ( Read more... )

My worst fear is that I’ll have an embarrassing death. An inconvenient death. That I’ll die in the audience during a friend’s performance and the whole place with be struck with the tragedy of it, ruining the night. That I’ll die during a performance of my own and while the retelling of it would be dramatic and even amusing, the act itself will ( Read more... )

When you look at me, it’s a swooping dare of instinct that communicates deadly intent along the wire from predator to prey. The quivering acquiescence of a humble foodstuff in the face of pure physical superiority. I would feel the same if I looked into the jaws of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I would not run. I would merely be food. There would be no ( Read more... )

My family took a train across the country when I was ten ( Read more... )

There’s this shark fin circling around, poking above the waterline of my current happiness and causing ripples. I’m happy here but I know what I have to do ( Read more... )

Some cute darkness for you. Snorlge these, you finaglers ( Read more... )