The community with which I share my disquiet keeps me company on the seemingly lonely and interminable road: humanity in general suffers a deep and resounding disquiet. The phenomenon itself may even be pandemonium, but more often than not the noise is as null as good or evil, as gray as white or black. The strength of discovering it lies not in assigning it any value but in recognizing its universality.
I play this game with my friend Sadi (whose new book of poetry is coming out soon!) where we each come up with two words and the other person has to write out a poem using those words. Any form, inflection, mood, voice, or tense is allowable. Since in these games all forms of writing are allowed, I'm bumping the word requirement to three words. Public, degree, return
Publish in comments stories, no matter how polished or raw, according to the game of the week. If I like your story, I may ask you to gloss it into a short that I'll publish along with the next contest the following Thursday (or, perhaps, you permission for me to gloss the story for you.... I haven't quite worked that out yet....) Make the entries as short or as long as you want, and any genre is fair game: fiction, non-, and poetry.
He went outside and looked at all the other houses where they lived. Snow had fallen all over. Icicles were dangling from the homes of some of their neighbors. They were the neighbors who were lucky enough to have the wood to burn, and the heat their fires made escaped up through the roofs and melted the snow there, making the icicles possible.
We go on dates. Our financial irresponsibility lies in going on dates. About once every other week, we drop about twenty dollars on not making a meal at home or maybe a bottle of wine to make my cooking seem more legitimate. My peers are broke, too, working those college jobs at pizza shops and bookstores. Why don’t I just get one of those?
He’s been playing for an hour and a half now. Still hasn’t won. His wrists and hands are sore and his feet are falling asleep. He keeps playing. He doesn’t know what else to do.
We’ve never recovered from FDR's attempt at systematic control. You see a few gasps here and there at the sort of fun we used to have in this country. We had Woodstalk. We had Orson Welles. Russ Meyer cranked out movies in the 60s and gang banging people into the theaters with promises of topless women. Drive ins showed movies with names like Kiss Me Deadly, which is an amazing movie (go see it!), and Mondo Topless (not so much).