[x]

Somebody Got Murdered"Take it!" Kenny scampered out of the bathroom, holding his deodorant stick like a microphone. "Take another little piece of my heart now, bay-bay! Whoa-oh!"

"Wait."

"Break a–" He stopped crooning. "What?"

"I thought you didn't like country music."

"I don't; makes my head hurt."

Coming from the guy whose laptop is always blasting speed metal or whatever. "But you were just singing a Leann Rimes song."

"Naw, that was Big Brother and the Holding Company. Janis Joplin, y'know?" He gave me that are-you-really-that-dim look he so frequently shoots my way. "Whoever the fuck Leann Rimes is."

"She's a country singer from like, years ago,"

Misconceptions of VegetariansI am a recent convert to vegetarianism; I haven't eaten meat in about five months. I've had a profound interest in vegetarianism for a few years now, but hadn't been allowed to act on it because of my iron-fisted parents, in whose house I lived. But now I don't, so I buy my own damn food and it's all vegetarian.

Unfortunately, I do have to return to my parents' house sometimes, leading to difficulties in conflicting diets. Needless to say, I catch a lot of shit for being a vegetarian. I also catch a lot of misconceptions about vegetarianism. I decided it was high time to address a few of these.

#1: Vegetarians love all vegetables.

As an om

NailsSometimes, she wore fingerless gloves on purpose, just to creep out people in the checkout line at Wal-Mart or the tellers at the bank. She didn't think there was much anything funnier than watching them squirm, trying not to stare. The best was when they flat-out gawked with horrified looks on their faces.

No one ever asked what happened. They were usually polite and pretended as though there was nothing odd about it. The only time it was remotely acknowledged was if she struggled to pick up her change off the countertop or any task that required the finest of motor skills, and then it was only, "Oh, let me help you with that," with a tight

MayflyIt's a nudge from the Naiad orbiter that brings me fully to my senses, and, instinctively, I find myself checking my systems. Power from her solar panels quickly floods my own circuits, and I flex instruments and senses that feel like they've been dormant for all too long. Which they have, of course.

"Wakey, wakey," the Naiad's saying, as I burn through the reports and telemetry my body's feeding me.

Some of my instruments have iced-up, I realise. But that's a minor concern. Everything else is sound.

"Are we there yet?" I reply.

"We are indeed."

"Mayfly, this is control. " The signal's peppered with static, and I quickly adjust for the D

The RevolutionThe revolution will not be televised, it will not be sanitized, desensitized. No, this revolution will be live, living, breathing, everything worth fighting for. The revolution - will be - poeticized.

This revolution will not be caught on cameras, will not be polarized by the media. It dies standing on its bare feet before it is forced to fall on knees not willing to bend. The revolution is much more likely to be found on the run. It is subject to no one.

Our masterless words are the burning bush of this big monopoly, big money society. They are setting fire to the cities and moving the mass millions of the consumer culture.

[This revoluti

lunacy expects better.i am only a
regressionary: (n) one who looks back
on pages and pages.
they stare at me as you did,
expecting beautiful things
that never come.

i will unwrite these pages before you control them
making them dance like marionettes
with their optical nerves.

i am only a
biodegradographer: (n) one who
writes on pages that will
dissolve into the earth to feed the earthworms.
let them grow big and strong.
unwrite these words
and allow them to print themselves
out of my mind.

i am only an
ignorancionary: (n) one who
falls in love with words she doesn't know,
like absinthe and decanter.

i am only a
lover: (n) one who cannot
con

My Name Is..."I dunno, mate," Kenny mumbled as he read my essay for Strebeigh's class. "I mean, it's an interesting premise, but your –-"

He stopped talking when Figgy burst in, clicking his phone shut. "You guys wanna hear something weird?" he asked us, jumping on my bed. "I just found out this girl I went to high school with, she popped out a baby yesterday."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "And?"

"Yeah, but," Figgy told us, fiddling with my bedspread, "I just saw her like, three months ago and she looked totally normal!"

"Whoa," I said. "That is weird."

Kenny scoffed. "That's not weird. You wanna hear weird? Last week, I heard this bloke I went to sch

MindConsciousness is nothing but a blip in infinite mathematics
Why not call these blips souls and the infinite mathematics god?

"CALL IT CUTTERS INTUITION"

"CALL IT CUTTERS' INTUITION"

Turn it red
Watch it run
Turn me over when you're done

Yes i know
Sickened slow
Quicker though to let it go

Open up
Feel the rush
Weaker now with every gush

Purple lips
Icy hands
Knocking knee-caps nauseous plans

Hide and seek
Had enough
Not so good at acting tough

Trust in love
Let it show
Soft as powder pale as snow

Broken words
Speak to me
Sin's a pleasure too you see

Last resort
First appeal
Liquid stains a stainless steel

Cut to clean
Shed your pain
Suck the life of every vein

Take it in
Its your hell
Bare what no one else can tell

How could you?
Why pretend?
Lose yourself the

sealing your pain beneath mineyou read me like an open book;
ink splattered at the tips of your
lips and each sentence was
wrapped with lies but the
pretty words make you happy;
and seeing you happy
made me happy.
just a little

with a heart carved from
stone, I try to be constant;
yet I'm weathered by the
rain as you continued to
kick me into the cracks of
the sidewalk; but I saw
you smile as I landed in
the spot that you wanted
me to be; and seeing you
smile made me
smile. just a little

I'm like a picture you want
to burn; ignited from your
hatred and anger, flames
dancing under the midnight
sun; I saw you cry and
I wanted to cry as well, bu

Departure AnxietyIt was sleeting as we walked down the stairs to the metro. "Ugh, thank God!" Rachael slipped her hood down and shook the ice off her sweatshirt. "It's getting ugly out."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Can't wait to get back to school where it's warm."

"Totally." She playfully hit my arm. "And you still have to show me your dorm room!" she added. She was visiting me from back home and had been insisting all afternoon that I had to give her a tour of the campus.

"I will! I will," I reassured her as the train pulled into the station. We boarded and took our seats. "So, what's new back home?"

As she chatters on about our old high school classmates and fr

mathematical reflections at1: Describe an exponential growth pattern. Include key properties such as growth factors.

An exponential growth pattern is a pattern where it is not a linear relationship
and yet the pattern is keeps increasing.
An exponential growth pattern is when the boy says to the girl,
"i think you're screwing me over." and
the girl replies: "i'm glad you finally noticed."
And then he goes back to loving her because he's waiting for her to hand him
something she doesn't own anymore.

Example:
The boy has two hands. There are five fingers on each hand.
That makes ten purple bruises on her arms because he's been
begging for an answer she d

it's 4amand my heart's still beating.}

we paused;
tying heart-strings with our scores set at zero.
folding our glove of black inked hearts;
we stopped lusting for kicks.

at 2.23 am, reality wasn't all it was made out to be.}

bottle-green thistles
thorned through your pupils;
dropping seconds of olive breath
as i sacrificed my lungs to feed
our envy--

hexing the charmed air
and bleaching the sky; a whitewash
deluge, with ivory petticoats
translucent amidst the haze;

my smoky half-moon crescents obscured
from your sight. blurring with spits
of earl-grey rubble dropping from our
forgotten eyes-- i step
away; lost into the distance

Going Away to CollegeThe door had two construction paper name-tags taped to it; one was a green penguin and had Michael Schoen written on it in large clear letters; the other was a purple cat and had once had a two-word name written on it, but someone had attacked it with a Sharpie and written KENNY in large block letters. Using one of the keys Darren the perky RA had given me, I unlocked the door and entered.

The room was of a decent size, around ten by fourteen feet wide, with brick walls painted white and stubby grey carpet, and outfitted with two single beds, two desks with two chairs, and two wardrobes. At the foot of the far-left bed was a door leading to

Unnecessary RoundsIn the fall I'd make unnecessary rounds
over that scuffed, speckled tile
in case you were namelessly there-
an anonymous book browser,
a stranger buying milk.

I saw all these walks of life, at noon
or at eight o'clock or nine.
The protruding stomach pregnant
with hamburger-death, stretching
at the filthy shirt with a belly button eye
(Cyclops, do you still blame Nobody?)
and the young man's thin white leg with the
long tendon swimming a delicate breast stroke
under smooth cream-skin, under the fluorescents
hairless and illuminated.

Even lonely people need groceries,
need some fuel for their night ramblings
and nail biting,

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ObedienceI suppose it started in Sunday School; where we were praised for following God's word. Obedience. Ever since, I've found obedience to be such an ugly word.

"Be obedient," they told us, "and you'll enter the kingdom of heaven." Heaven didn't sound so great to me. In heaven, it seemed all we'd do is sing Christian rock songs and kiss the holy ass of God for all eternity.

"Obey your parents," they told us, "because it's the right thing to do." My parents told me that I wasn't allowed to date the Asian boy at school or to be friends with the lesbian I worked with at the library. They cut up my clothes into rags because they'd been meant for a b

Cliche'dTitle Proper: "Clichéd"

Give me a reason to get up in the morning.

Untitled Novel Start ThingyGuy spat her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink basin. "So what's the status for the weekend?" she asked. "Would friends be easiest?"

"That wouldn't work," I told her as she swished water in her mouth. "My mom tends to think I'm dating any girl I mention in conversation, and I told her about you on the phone last week. Can you hurry up? I need to pee."

She spat into the basin again. "Stool's broken."

I groaned. "Still? I thought you told Dom."

"Yeah, I did." She rolled her eyes. "But he's trying to fix the water heater or some shit. Just piss in the shower."

"And that still not fixed either?" I grumbled as I pulled back the shower curt

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Great Awakening

by ~colleenxcatalina, Dec 22, 2009, 9:43:36 PM
Literature / Characters & Settings / Contemporary / Profiles

I met Kenny when I was eighteen-nearly-nineteen. At the time, I was this pious doormat from northern New England, too timid to even ask people to call me something other than Michael, let alone utter something that might offend.

Kenny was my foil. Kenny was a narcissistic, bloody-minded bastard who would throw a fit if he was addressed by his Christian name. He never knew Jesus and wasn't afraid to alienate anyone, even the meanest professor. He wasn't clean-cut by any means and dressed like the rock star he felt he was. He defied the normal ideals of sexuality and gender roles. He could speak roughly or with the grace of a nobleman.

Kenny is the reason I exist in my state today. Without Kenny, I would have been Michael Schoen, partner in a law firm in Hartford, with a four-bedroom Tudor, a wife and two kids who go to church every Sunday and an addiction to Xanax. With Kenny, I am Mikey Stone, painter and street artist in Montreal, with a run-down loft and an ultra-feminist girlfriend who will never marry me. With Kenny, I am living the way I damn well please and saying a firm fuck off to the naysayers.

In a way, Kenny was more my Savior than Jesus ever was.

Great Awakeningby ~colleenxcatalina

Literature / Characters & Settings / Contemporary / Profiles

Essentially plot-less, I really just wanted to introduce Mikey before I finish something else where he plays a starring role and isn't himself. He's an oddball.

I'm also in a way reintroducing you to Kenny, who you maybe met in this: [link]

Submitted to

What do you think of Mikey? What about Kenny?

Featured in this blog: [link] and this article: [link]

love 1 1

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~lilfixit Mar 23, 2011 Hobbyist Photographer

Mikey seems to be easily influenced by the ideas around him but he also seems to be a believable character. I say that because he was probably brought up to be a pious doormat and was influenced by his family, and then when he met Kenny it looked like he was having more fun and didn't seem to have a set of rules so he decided to be more like Kenny. I've heard a lot of character development stories where the character goes from "boring and pious" to "outgoing and living by your own rules" but I think it's common because it's what happens in real life. Young people don't tend to want a more boring or more structured life. We often want to push boundaries, though sometimes we are afraid to do it, and I'm interested in how Mikey was influenced by Kenny to become someone who didn't have to live a stereotype. However, I am a bit concerned that he merely traded one stereotype for another.

I really like how you had Mikey describe his view of his old life, what he could have been, and what his life is now. The last line is a great summary of that as well.
Good writing.

~colleenxcatalina Mar 24, 2011 Student Writer

I haven't considered it too much, but it's entirely possible that Mikey just traded one stereotype for another. I'll have to ponder on that one.

But thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!