My Cardboard Balcony

Tonight, I'm not going to belch out the usual ranting. I'm not going to go deep into thought or retrospect. I'm not even going to do a writer's quotation. I want to keep this simple, but I also want to make it potent. For two years, starting with a plate of sushi, there has been a romance. For the most part, it's been very matter-of-fact. The biggest hurdle has been distance, but the relationship's been strong despite that, mostly due to pretty tight-knit communication and a constant reminder of the future. Since the day we decided to try this out, it has been a carousel of colors, adventures, questions, anxieties, hopes, dreams, patience, and of course love. We dressed in tailcoat and gown together after our first year, enjoying a fancy Italian dinner with a full bottle of some of the best Riesling I ever had. We dropped by pubs to have pints and just talk. We ran rampant in San Francisco. Made cheesecake. Explored Cazadero. Cuddled by the Christmas tree. E...

NOTE: This is going to be a slightly different presentation of "Whims of the Time Traveler" than usual. The initial draft was written back in the fall of 2006, as a high school project for an English class literally called "Myth and Fantasy." The assignment was to create a completely original creation story, for the universe, Earth, and humanity. Many people wrote small origin myths. I, however, took it to the extreme. The last modified version of this was January 8th, 2008. This is Part One. Earthe Maeliz by Belinda Roddie Part One: The Formation Silence, and the whole void was waiting. Emptiness, of all kings, reigned vastly amidst the landscape, hollow, unwelcoming, and cold. No twinkling of lights or luminous mist shrouded this vacuum, and nothing lived, breathed, or moved. Then came the aurora. As stars began to emerge from the nothingness that reigned the galaxies, two figures were found responsible for it, forging celestial beings that hung like st...

We broke the stratosphere at an inconceivable level of speed per hour. I could not safely tell you how fast we were moving. The gravity was non-existent, and I was propelled forward only slightly in the cockpit before the shoulder harness resisted the lift. My co-pilot, Edgar, seemed comatose beside me. I realized, much later on, that he had been in a deep reverie. I was relieved not to break him from it.

The Caramel-Flavored Vodka by Belinda Roddie The caramel-flavored vodka took up space within the cabinet because no one liked to drink it. Josh thought about giving the still closed bottle to a good friend, but that once enthusiast of hard liquor had completely weaned off the booze, claiming a Godly epiphany. Josh and his buddies preferred hard cider, maybe iced whiskey, or a strong Amaretto Sour, but the cheap brand of vodka just wasn't for them. Then one day, Josh's cousin saw the bottle and lit up like he had seen the liquid Messiah. "Take it," they said, "and drink it 'til you're sick and stuck in bed."

When I say that Gregory got a lot of clout, I didn't mean the informal definition that was most common among American households. I was more referring to the fact that I was the one to give him a clout. You know, like a blow to the head with something heavy. The heavy thing was the back of my very large hand against the spot of his temples right above the nape of his neck. He dropped like a stone. Oh, and I have a clout of my own, too. It's an arrow target. I'm an archer.

Calaban by Belinda Roddie Nothing stings so much as the salt from an old man's staff, pushing you away from tides and forcing you to drink hot imported brine, as your southern hospitality is re-used in jars to be unscrewed only by a magician's hands; to be abused only by a magician's hands.

You eat the wafer given to you by the priest, and suddenly, the altar melts like caramel and you're left gawking at the statue of crucified Jesus as he pulls himself from decorative nails and rears up like some sort of reptilian monster. The noise he makes is like a reptile, too - like a velociraptor. And his arms pull against his cut up chest as his legs jerk about below his loincloth. That was not a normal Eucharist you just ate.