Tag: Creative Writing
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
Broken wanderers. Space mice. Toe signals. Crap melons. Divided thesaurus. Purple dinosaurs. Egg cabbage. Lettuce wraps. Feet sores. Mice house. Calm attack. Divine moons… Nine moons. There was: The Conch moon. The Devil moon. The Gun Barrel moon. The Black Button moon. The Radial Eye moon. The Turkish Comet moon.…
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
Harpooned harlequins cascade like dominoes in the limelight trick of light down on the piccadilly row of southern Santa Monaco and the bow rips and the cow tips and the fringes of a mad mind unfold like warped bric-a-brac on a magic store shelf in Sicily comatose gold rope lassoed…
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
Magda Balls looked at her two new guests, her back was up against the stove in the kitchen, a cigarette smoke stream trailing from her shapely hand. Rosalina and the Huffing Man were sitting at the table in her lakeside bungalow eating tomato soup and oyster crackers. The man had…
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ A Clockwork Orange, Creative Writing, Dutch, Fiction, HBO, Huffing, Netflix, Norwegian, Short Story+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
You, again. The erratic sidewinder in plaid. Going apeshit over a loaf of bread. Have you ever heard of tranquility? Oh, I see, you reach for it there, you look for it in your…earbuds? Why do you stop and yawn and pause and breathe and think and question? The world…
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
I built a chair today in my workshop I made it out of milk skin and aggression God was my co-pilot but then the plane crashed I wrestled with tangled earbuds I woke up at 2 a.m. and ate English muffins with butter and honey It’s hot outside but I’m…
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
Time is all nonsense now, like purple wine in a gravity-free cathedral. Jesus and his sex dolls are just spinning aimlessly.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
The town’s name was Sudan and there was a smell of animal dung and sawdust and perfumed whores in the hot afternoon air.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
The man plopped down into a soft sofa of sand. The waves out there before him were at medium. They churned and rolled and fell, the water a dark gray with whipped cream foam on the edges.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ Experimental, Fiction, Mature Themes, Might Want to be Mature, Popular, Psychological, Serial Fiction+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
“Age is just restlessness etched in the air. We just wait for the calendar to spin. We wait and do nothing. Lives once had meaning.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
“She beat me with her soft white knuckles. They were so damn clean and tender and feminine.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
CEREAL AFTER SEX 