She doesn’t understand the roiling hurricane of broken parts that flourishes in her. A rabid zombie dog bent on breaking spines and eating, eating, eating. It’s a four-in-the-morning car crash right outside a bedroom window
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I especially like "She doesn’t understand the roiling hurricane of broken parts that flourishes in her. A rabid zombie dog bent on breaking spines and eating, eating, eating. It’s a four-in-the-morning car crash right outside a bedroom window."
and
"The bank teller smiles a smile that goes nowhere near his eyes and hands her the receipt. Brick-oven repression bakes the words not said into whips, a fire alarm shrieking in her heart, the final impact at the bottom of the long flight of stairs. It’s a pocket watch that winces and whimpers with each tick."
and
"All the puzzle pieces have sharp sides and short memories. She’s glued the mirror back together and she’s hoping no one notices the difference. Maybe she’ll get one year of bad luck off.
Like anyone who’s good at puzzles will tell you, start with the edges."
I'm not sure if the ending feels finished to me. I like the piece, though. It has great... movement? I think that's the word I'm looking for.
This was definitely one of those pieces that I could have rambled on about for another three or four pages. I snipped it short because it was late, I was tired, and this is the internet where attention spans are...uh...what was I saying? Oo! Shiny!
I liked it's flow and movement as well. It's got a rhythm to it. I'm sensing a new voice starting to flow through these pieces but it's hard to define.
i have to say you are one of my most recent literary obsessions/inspirations.
i think i've seen this lady in wilmington. i don't know if the pundits have called it a recession or whatever, but here, i think i've known more homeless people and people scraping at the bottom than any other time in my life. this is definitely accurate to an unnerving degree.
Wow, Swingland, thank you. That's very high praise indeed. I really appreciate it. I'm in Vancouver where the homeless/poor/mental illness/addicted part of town has reached proportions rarely seen in North America. Canada's doing okay financially compared to America and Britain at the moment but we're all holding our breath. It's always possible to fall further and we're pretty freaked out.
Comments 5
and
"The bank teller smiles a smile that goes nowhere near his eyes and hands her the receipt. Brick-oven repression bakes the words not said into whips, a fire alarm shrieking in her heart, the final impact at the bottom of the long flight of stairs. It’s a pocket watch that winces and whimpers with each tick."
and
"All the puzzle pieces have sharp sides and short memories. She’s glued the mirror back together and she’s hoping no one notices the difference. Maybe she’ll get one year of bad luck off.
Like anyone who’s good at puzzles will tell you, start with the edges."
I'm not sure if the ending feels finished to me. I like the piece, though. It has great... movement? I think that's the word I'm looking for.
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I liked it's flow and movement as well. It's got a rhythm to it. I'm sensing a new voice starting to flow through these pieces but it's hard to define.
I'm glad you liked it. See you on Monday.
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i think i've seen this lady in wilmington. i don't know if the pundits have called it a recession or whatever, but here, i think i've known more homeless people and people scraping at the bottom than any other time in my life. this is definitely accurate to an unnerving degree.
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