My Cardboard Balcony

I really cannot be introspective right now. I just can't. I mean, I've been thinking about a lot of things. I've been discussing them with friends and loved ones. I've sometimes winced as I've looked at the world around me and how people are behaving in it. I have family members who are sad or scared or angry for lots of different reasons. And I just can't really vocalize any of it. There has been a lot happening all around, a lot of it not being so great, and that, added to my workload and the very large projects I need to finish up for my teaching credential in about a week and a half, just makes it very difficult to convey any part of my emotion or thoughts in a reasonably coherent way. So I'm not going to be really introspective tonight. Big surprise. At least I'm somewhat justified in bowing out tonight, rather than other nights when I've just been too tired or too lazy. I promise you all that after Thanksgiving, I will probably be feeli...

Ticket to Japan by Belinda Roddie Honey, does this sumo wrestling suit make me look fat?

Charlotte tried to augment the color of her painting by applying more oil, but the canvas only became messier, and she threw her brush at the neon mess in a mix of frustration and despair. Then she headed to the kitchen. The cabinet was glowing with the bronze and orange sheens of the liquor bottles, holding citrus and hazelnut secrets within their glassy throats and stomachs. Charlotte pulled off one of the stoppers and drank deeply, quietly debating whether or not she desired to create an entire art presentation out of brandy and triple sec.

Oh, Heaven Help by Belinda Roddie Oh, Heaven help the stranded refugees, who stand with branded names upon the shore. They're called terrorists and monstrosities, not welcome in this country anymore. We gobble fear down like an extra meal, washing the palate with cold ignorance, as fizzy as a beer. With greater zeal then ever before, we restart the dance of prejudice, of targeting the souls of war-torn, ravaged families abroad. Yet still we act like Christians while hate pulls at our cheekbones, removing the facade. Yes, Heaven help the refugees at last, whose final hopes have suddenly been dashed.

Lawrence held the paper in his hands and couldn't help creasing it in his rigid grip. This was not possible. Ten years after leaving the family to seek a life in New York, his brother George - or rather, his sister Georgia, as she preferred to be called - was suing him and his parents for emotional damage. He wanted to shred the letter with his bare fingers, rip it into pieces, but something - he couldn't ascertain as to what, exactly - stopped him from doing so.

I Ate Candy Tonight by Belinda Roddie A chocolate-y confection after such a long day is such a nice way to spend the evening. Sugar cravings lost in swirls of milk and cacao. When the warmth has slipped between my lips, I catch a glimpse of paradise outside my suburban window.

Marsha and Tanya went camping for the week, and they decided to share a tent. Now, anyone with half a brain knew what this implied. But Robert, of course, was so dense that you couldn't hold a light bulb over his head without it burning out. Robert thought for sure that Marsha and Tanya were simply "gal pals." He didn't even bat an eye when Marsha excused herself to the bathroom one night to wipe lipstick off her collar after a particularly frisky moment with Tanya outside while they were sharing a cigarette.