Grounding

 
In the depth of skull,
all his synthesis of shape.
 
He cared about the
sword falling on artery
 
of color. It is the black
fashion, water will keep. 

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Greetings, Smokers and Smokerettes! This is just a quick reminder that we are still doing the Micro-Fiction Roundup, and maybe you should mosey on over and, you know, give it a try. I mean, I know that you're a wordy-wordkins, and you know you're a Wordzilla, but don't you want everyone else to know? Of course you do. Wait, you don't? Look at you, being all humble and shit. But that doesn't make my little contest work, so can't you just do it or me? Pretty please? Look, just do it or I'll break your getaway sticks, how about that? Thought so. 

 

Micro-Fiction Roundup XLVIII: Paging Dr. Embarrassment to Emergency

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If you've read the grand jury report surrounding the Jerry Sandusky sex abuse crimes, you'll agree that there are plenty of despicable people at Penn State who should not only be shrouded in public humiliation, but should also do some hard jail time.

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Remember that feeling that you had when you looked across the dance floor at your high school sock hop and that cute girl or guy in whom you'd been interested catches you staring? How he or she stopped talking to his or her other sycophants just long enough to give you a smile. Do you recall how you felt when you realized that, although that person was everything you could possibly want in another human being, you fell far short of his or her expectations? Instead, the object of your desire was going pass you by for someone who had a shitty soul, but was slightly better at sports, or had developed breasts a little earlier than you did. 

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Two dandies in a small boat surrounded by water. What would Freud say?

Another goddamn 5 Second Review? Yes, sorry. I actually thought that this one had slipped through the theaters before I had a chance to see it, and now I kind of wish that it had. The movie was brilliantly cast, beautifully set, and skillfully acted, but the plot just plodded along like a drunken insect in a field of goo. 

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The little boy, so innocent and full of life. He will be two years old on January 18, 2012. I have to admit that I’m quite impressed with his abilities so far and the fact that he has learned sign language. We, as humans, are so quick to judge others that aren’t like us. The fact of being “normal” in their eyes has been debated on epic levels. It has become so bothersome to others that they have brought it into political discussions, church sermons, and scientific philosophies. I haven’t always had my eyes open to it and when I was much younger, I thought of it as something funny. Here I am years later writing about how wrong I was; I’ve learned more about this in the last two years than throughout my entire life. I would move heaven and earth to help this toddler, not because of who or what he is, but because he is amazing and worth protecting. My children speak of him on a daily basis, consistently asking, “When am I going to see him again?” or  “Should we buy this for him?” It’s amazing that at so young an age someone could create such an impact on my family and me. There will be many cynics in his life and from the day he was born to many hospital visits to now, he has proven them all wrong.

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I missed the Golden Globes tonight because I had to work. On weekends, from two to midnight, I conduct my business in the driver's seat of a black and white in an obscure little berg in South Florida, so I miss a lot of Sunday night television: Super Bowl, Oscars, and yes, the Golden Globes. To be honest, I completely forgot that it was Golden Globes night—slipped my mind.

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  There were several points throughout this movie that I thought to myself, "Oh my god, I forgot that's Meryl Streep!" Looks like another Best Actress for your mantle, darling. 

With Glance
 
moments stand.
Music room notes.
I heard autistic tigers
striking precious chords
 
Wisps of perspective,
they glide by shoulders.
The sound was so bittersweet,
that poem upon my step

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