My Cardboard Balcony

Neutral by Belinda Roddie so my car's stuck in neutral and I can't back up or speed ahead instead my 2007 pick- up truck is taking a trip to the city of New Las Ditch Next To My Father's Apartment.

"Don't go near the moon!" he bellowed, and the horsemen picked up speed. The icicle breath of their stallions stabbed the air and left frosty particles flying like frozen stardust. Constantly swirling upward in a funnel cloud of winter and bitterness. He watched from his window as the hooves clattered into nothingness, his hands hot against the wooden pane. He did not dare to warn them again. They were too far into the sky.

"He plays the accordion?" "Yep." "He plays the accordion!" I propped my banjo against my knee and grinned, plucking away at the strings. It was always fun to eavesdrop on the American tourists who thought we all played flute and fiddle. Donal wove the accordion around his hands like a stretching tapestry, playing a melody as colorful as the rainbow.

by Belinda Roddie My knee was so swollen that I couldn't walk. Then again, that's what happens when you end the night with a boat tail lodged in your patella. The circle of cars had dissipated from the abandoned parking lot, and I craned my head to look at my reflection in a fragment of windshield glass left for me on the pavement. Under the dim street lamp, I could see dark purple bruises forming under my eyes, the flecks of blood and marrow decorating the corners of my mouth and giving my teeth a light brown crust. I smiled and waved meekly. Hello, friend. You come here often? Feebly tugging at my sleeves, I managed to pull my sweatshirt off my shaking frame and apply it to the wound, tying it like a lousy tourniquet. I thought it would be able to stop the blood from continuously streaming down my torn jeans, the red turning into a complex spider web on the denim. Instead, it simply soaked up red bubbles like a lump, and soon the thing was dripping with my own lifeline...

A spot of ice cream had made a small puddle on the bench beside me. The girl still chewing on the cone paid it no mind. Nor did she pay attention to the brown and green stain on her shirt that was spreading from her chin. I smiled at her and waved when I caught her eye. But she shuddered and seemed afraid of me. I walked home that night debating whether or not to go to bed early.

These past couple weeks have been an odd mix of activity and inactivity, happiness and sadness, confidence and anxiety. I submitted my novella manuscript to a small LGBT publishing press, added to my graphic novel script (I'm on Volume Two), and have had some wonderful times with my family, friends, and girlfriend. My sixth play has come to a standstill, but I had a job interview today and I'm hoping that with more interviews and maybe a job, I can gain some inspiration again. My mind, especially during slow days, has been racing. While I love being home and know I'm safe and secure and happy in Northern California with my family and friends...my heart pines for Southern California. It's where I went to college. It's where a lot of my friends are. It's where my girlfriend is. It's where my life was for four years. But a lot of things hold me back from moving down - lack of a car and a job being the major snag. So I'm job searching high and low and tryi...

High Roman Status by Belinda Roddie People ask me if I want to be a martyr, some kind of gladiator who stumbles into the arena just to rip out some poor guy's heart out of his chest like he's parodying the Indiana Jones movies. I say, "No, none of that shit." I want to be High Roman Status. I want to be the emperor surrounded by fawning ladies, second only to Zeus, so he doesn't get pissed off and try to smite me with lightning bolts or curse me, or maybe fuck my lover and have his jealous bitch of a wife turn her into some form of cattle." The work you see here has only been slightly modified for mechanics and errors since September 7th, 2009.