In by Chris on July 31, 2009 at 8:16 am
It was on a windy day that my cousin lost his mind for a moment and careened a woman’s grocery cart into a busy street, causing a sudden five-car accident. Wind ruffled the drivers’ hair as they emerged from their cars. My cousin is poor, but cool-headed and smart; he apologized immediately. But each of the drivers sued him, and now he cannot continue in community college.
Be careful of windy days, when plastic bottles tumble along the side of the road. On days like these the normal order of the air is disturbed and balances are tilted and spun.
In by Chris on July 31, 2009 at 8:14 am
Our ancestors mingle with our undreamed of children in the sky. Their breaths are the puff clouds you see on days with endless horizons; they appear like popcorn. On the ground, inside the earth, powders and droplets lie scattered in windswept piles – these are the materials from which they were made. The earth is a fabric of revolving circles. Heart elements forever shift and once more, when we have gone, crying newborns will be formed in the somnolent valleys. We wait to return to the sky without time. The breeze is a breath – we remember, but aren’t remembering the past.
In by Lara on July 31, 2009 at 8:14 am
Right, so it doesn’t count because…
Dude, I’ve told you this already. It never counts unless you’re in love with her.
And you’re not in love with her?
Nope. Plus, it was over international waters. Doesn’t count when you’re in a different country.
If you say so. How long has it been since you guys started going out though?
About…shit. It’ll be six months on the fourth.
Really. And she’s never found out about your counting rules?
Look, why don’t you just stop tormenting the poor girl and break it off?
Because…she’s a good person. I don’t want to hurt her.
In by Lara on July 31, 2009 at 8:13 am
I’m not a control freak. Control freaks are obsessive, nitpicky, and stressed. I am the picture of calm and cool. I don’t need to organize my closet by purchase-date and cross-reference by color and fabric-type. I’m free to be me. My friends will love me even if the spoon is more than 2 cm away from the knife on the table setting. I don’t need to know what is going on all the time in everyone’s lives just to plan my own. I can be laid back and let someone else drive for a bit. I’m not a control freak.
In by Chris on July 31, 2009 at 8:11 am
He had just begun slicing apples for his pie when the phone rang. It was his sister, distraught. Thirty placating minutes later, he began mixing dough for the crust, hands gooey when he heard a crash of glass on the street and ran to see what had happened. Glancing at the clock on his way back, his fingers flew until an unbaked pie sat pulsating in front of him. There would be time, he thought, as he spun the dials on the oven. Nothing ignited. And for two hours nothing he did could give the evening the dessert it deserved.
In by Lara on July 28, 2009 at 12:21 am
There is that saying “a parent should never have to bury their child,” but when is a child ever ready to mother or father their parent? When is a child ready to watch their own parent writhe in pain and become so delirious from disease? When can a child care for their father as he once did for them when they were tiny ones with measles and tummy aches? It feels like curdled milk. Wrong and a freak of nature. When the roles reverse, it’s like lightning and thunder in the sunniest of days. Unnatural and unnerving beyond all belief.
In by Chris on July 25, 2009 at 11:54 pm
“Who’s flirting now?” whispered the barf bag to the safety brochure. The barf bag was a plain old guy and even his whisper was nasally.
The airline magazine was dozing off as usual after being flipped through quickly and completely.
“She took me clear out of the pocket,” continued the barf bag. “Clear out of the pocket.”
“Didn’t she notice your winking at her?”
“Oh I’ll bet she did,” said the barf bag, rubbing his partly bald head. “I saw it in her eyes. She’s just waiting for her boyfriend to snooze off before she takes me out again.”
In by Chris on July 25, 2009 at 2:49 pm
They flounce, stride, or meander into hostels. The guys are unkempt and tend to wear the same types of pants. The girls wear makeup. Their most prized possession is their ability to recite a list of cities where they’ve been and are going next.
At night I fall asleep to discussions of theft, clubs, routes of travel, and drinking. Why are these people here? What experience are they having? What’s the point?
In a practical sense, I see them spending more and more money every day; where does it come from? Do they earn it themselves, or does someone else?
In by Chris on July 25, 2009 at 2:17 pm
The couple sat staring at nothing and, at the same moment, glanced up to the left. Their faces were the same reddened tan and when they moved to get up, their hands grasped the same edges of the table. No words, just the bustle of the old city square around them.
Down the street they walked side by side, strides matched with no thought. He always left just enough room for her when weaving through the strolling crowds, and vice versa. When the sun set they unlocked the iron-wrought door to their building, stepped inside together, and disappeared from sight.
In by Lara on July 24, 2009 at 11:12 pm
1. Spanish: chorizo and beef burger, manchego cheese melted on top, toothpicked with a single olive
2. Thai: Finely chopped green onion and garlic-infused pork tenderloin burger topped with peanut sauce and a cucumber salad
3. Mexican: Beef topped with corn salsa, avocado mousse and jack cheese
4. Kobe beef topped with creamy brie, porcini mushrooms and a port wine reduction
5. French: Bacon-wrapped beef with country style dijon mustard and dried cherry and red onion confit
6. Grilled salmon burger with sundried tomatoes, capers, fresh mozzarella, and lemon aioli
8. Classic: Barbecue sauce, cheddar cheese, grilled onions, and mushrooms