"What is your life like?"
"An endless tunnel of wind"
I picked up the phone from the table and pressed a button. The voice that had been on the other side went silent. Ginger looked up at me from cushions where she was reposing, her gaze an open question; she had felt the static in the room, so ever present, suddenly go out.
Where were we then? I'm not really sure. I never much felt bad about hanging up on people, it felt like ripping off a bandaid, a release of tension you didn't know you had been holding suddenly, painfully free of.
I walked into the kitchen and squeezed the avocado. It had been ready to eat ripe for a day already. I knew this because I had been squeezing it nonstop for the past three. I enjoyed squeezing it more than the prospect of slicing it open, so I let it ripen. The day for eating it was not yet. Not today. Or, not now, anyway.
I glanced at the time. The clock on the microwave read 0:43. Forty-three seconds left until...? Hard to say. My roommates have a habit of leaving seconds there, suspended motion. There were only forty three of them, but it was hard to say how long that they had been stuck there for. I hit Cancel, erased the promised future of an impending beep.
I whistled for the dog and grabbed her leash and began the long hike down to the outside. It was probably time for her to pee, again. She's like clockwork, but not the microwave kind. Not the kind that you can just hit Cancel and make it forget, make it go back to how it was, but the real, solid tick-tock kind of time keeping that doesn't depend on anyone to expire.
It just does.
some days I remember the lies you told me and i laugh at both of us at me, for wanting so badly to believe you at you, for having t...
A lot of scientific epistemology or historiography focus on the methodology of discovery, the paradigm shifts of humans and the viability an...
outlining, on the ground in blood chalk the structure of that thing that you need or feel that you need in order to feel full.
Sadly, I could not comment on this article via the NYT website because I read it too late. Thank goodness for blogs though! Reading throu...