Chrisonomicon
Journal & Weblog Write to Save Your Life June 14, 2003

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The Straw Men by Michael Marshall
Palmerston is not a big town, nor one that can convincingly be said to be at the top of its game.

Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
Later than usual one summer morning in 1984, Zoyd Wheeler drifted awake in sunlight through a creeping fig that hung in the window, with a squadron of blue jays stomping around on the roof.

Collected Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges
In 1517, Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, feeling great pity for the Indians who grew worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines, proposed to Emperor Charles V that Negroes be brought to the isles of the Caribbean, so that they might grow worn and lean in the drudging infernos of the Antillean gold mines.

Finished

 
Howard Dean for President, 2004

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posted Sunday, April 1, 2001

Work to be Done

"Joe?"

He turned at his name. Well, actually, his upper body turned as he pivoted from the waistline, leaning back sorta to look at me. He was gorgeous -- blond hair, chiseled face, rock-solid body -- a complete antithesis of my ideal, who would look nothing like this circuit boy archetype. I flashed back to the first time I saw him on the street in New Orleans. He was shirtless and decked with beads. I wondered if he even owned a shirt. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out my face in the club lighting.

"Hey... you?re..."

"Chris, we met in New Orleans," I said, as he left his friends to face me. He nodded.

"Yeah, I know," he smiled, sounding surprised. "What are you doing down here?" He motioned to the club, but I knew he meant Houston.

"Partying. Having a good time." I smiled back. It was strange to think that I had never seen this man out of a party setting. I had no idea what he did for work. I had no idea how old he was. I knew he grew up in Nebraska, but that was the extent of it. Most of the time we spent in New Orleans was the non-speaking kind ? liplocked in what I remember as the most incredible makeout session of my life.

"Yeah, right on. You look great."

"Thanks, so do you." I placed my hand on his waist, palm on the oblique; a spot that never fails to turn me on. "From what I recall, the last time we were together, we left a certain job unfinished."

"You?re right. We certainly did." He took my hand and led me into the crowd, lights dancing across my face, bass pounding its way into my skin.

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