My Cardboard Balcony

A Modern Romance by Belinda Roddie I waited twenty minutes for her in the concave parking lot, a cement eye burning its gaze into the surface of the earth, attempting to drill its vision into the hot, steaming core of the underground. When she arrived, she was wearing a red leather jacket and offered me a stick of pink gum. It tasted like cinnamon. Of course. We poured each other drinks in my little hobbit hole, where the light barely shone in. Flecks of honeycomb were in my hair, spots of mead on my shirt. She was the urban lightning bolt to my calm, medieval summer day. A reminder of the reality outside my fantasy home. No dragons breathing fire overhead; only cars and motorcycles spewing rage instead.

"The deities have blessed me this fine morning!" crowed Louisa. "They have affirmed my life and happiness by allowing me to grace this earth for another year! And, if fortune and love permits it, they shall continue to smile upon me as I push through the mundane elements of my existence to find greater enlightenment and glory!" "Yeah, yeah, Happy Birthday to you," grumbled her husband. "Now are you going to eat some cake or what?"

After The Longest Day by Belinda Roddie She powdered her nose with a hue of dusty rose as the strawberry moon glowed with June honey, sweet heat from the edges of the sky. When she held my hand, I felt her dance pulse against my fingers, standing in front of the stronghold between dusk and dawn. Standing within the equilibrium of sunset and sunrise, two spoonfuls of gold doled into our salivating mouths. This was the solstice in full bloom, the petals heavy with the welcome evening dew. This was the solstice in dusty rose, pinks and purples across the celestial palette. This was the beginning and end of seasons, the stain of change like blackberries in our fists. The bioluminescence of our bodies on full display. This was the empire of summer.

No update on the OneWord website today. Tomorrow's my birthday! Yaaaaay?

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to see my dad again, but six years later, he turned up. He parked by my house in a beat up green van, dressed in camo pants and a dirty T-shirt with the name of a band I didn't recognize. When he got to my porch, his eyes shot straight to the ground. I was sitting on a chair outside, reading a newspaper, while my cat slept in my lap.

by Belinda Roddie "Wine is the best defense against goblins." "Is it, now?" "Oh, yeah. If you look at all the right sources, you'll find that fermented grapes are their biggest weakness. Splash some Cabernet in their faces, and they'll recoil like they've been burned by acid." "...You're saying this because you didn't like the bottle of wine I picked up from the store, aren't you?" " It's not a good wine!" "Look, I know you're finicky with your Cabs, but..." "You should understand my picky palate, Aaron." "Oh, I do." "Do you?" "Yep. I understand that you can never be satisfied." "Hey, I'm a connoisseur!" "You're a snob." "Same thing!" "Um, no." "Look it up in the thesaurus." "Sure. Is that the same place where you did your goblin research?" "Oh, fuck ...

I went to see Andy's standup comedy routine at the Loose Tooth Tavern on the corner of Fifth and Cain. Needless to say, he was a riot. He got two standing ovations and several people demanding an encore, and after he was finished, dozens of booze-brained fans asked for pictures and autographs. He had been very open about his identity - Hell, it contributed to most of his jokes - which at least I found very refreshing.