My Cardboard Balcony

Judgment Day by Belinda Roddie Within the smoky haze, I thought I glimpsed golden eyes.

The Volatile Temper Of A Pissed Off God by Belinda Roddie When I was thirty years old, I was convinced that one of the greatest storytellers of our time, one of the only storytellers who could catch my interest with such tenacity, such wit, and such intentionally peppered malice toward all things conventional and decorous and socially appropriate or acceptable, was Harlan Ellison. It was my opinion - a very well established opinion at that, a researched one, a well-read one - that no one could do better to jar, to horrify, to amuse, or to provoke thought than the wild hair shock of words that Ellison rattled from his go-to typewriter. No one could do it better. I was first introduced to the man's work at the age of seventeen - in theater class, which was led by a teacher who looked more like a mad scientist than a thespian - which, looking back on it, makes me chuckle. To this day, I have no idea if Mr. Lushenko actually had the express permission of Ellison or his estate to s...

Living History by Belinda Roddie That rainy morning, we had our honeymoon picnic at Stonehenge.

I GOT THROUGH MY FIRST WEEK OF DISTANCE TEACHING AND IT'S HARD AND I'M SCARED AND THE STATE IS BURNING AND COVID-19 IS STILL A THING AND MY FRIENDS ARE SUCH TALENTED ACTORS AND WRITERS AND I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS THEATER GROUP I STARTED IS ACTUALLY KIND OF LIKE A LEGIT COMPANY NOW AND I'M GETTING INTO DND AND TRYING TO WRITE MORE STUFF AND KEEP MY HEAD ON STRAIGHT WHILE MANAGING MY HEALTH AND RELATIONSHIPS AND AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

I Needed To Write Something by Belinda Roddie Fuck it: I'm worn out. Here's a haiku to sate my sense of discipline.

C'mon, Investors! by Belinda Roddie My invention, the Roboscrubber, got almost no interest or money.

Stay Safe by Belinda Roddie Once again, the state I live in is on fire.