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Counterpunch

“You work out your demons your own way,” is what he did not reply to her most recent text, from out the blue, this after, long ago, she assured him if he needed anything she was there for him. He had suspected this was hogwash. She was doing this for herself somehow. To expiate some guilt from some other time perhaps another lifetime. Whatever, who cares. She’s trying to use him to rid herself of her demons. He
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Rae of Light

For medical purposes I again closed my favorite bar the one and only Green Parrot at around 4 this Sunday morning. Here’s the thing, my doctor tells me dancing is the cure for all that ails me. News got out that something special had come to town, so Friday at 10 p.m I felt obligated to saunter on over and judge for myself. I was already doing a jig as I made my way to the bartender to get a bottle of water and
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The Deep

The sailors knew they had a good one writhing on the line. The violence made the crude sailors cackle which was not sporting since the victim had no chance. But the fish worked every technique from slamming at the hull with mouth open and teeth flashing where it could gain no more purchase than a punch in the face, to returning under water, swimming deep and fast with a temporary sense of bravado. Except the hook cau
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Song Bird

  ‘Flash, right?’ She asked the man when he got off the stage. ‘Yes?’ Tall, tired, he smiled. ‘Where are the fans?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You’re the big musician in town. Where’s your following?’ ‘You can be my following tonight, what are you drinking?’ ‘Thanks but I’m going home.’ ‘Wanna ride?’ he offered. The car, every American boy’s dream, a convertible from the 70s, huge and wide-open like a boat
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Jasmine & Co.

  A year later he calmed down and was over with the rampage, his midlife crisis as he now referred to it. Later he would reflect upon those months and the women he had emotionally clawed as harshly as he could, avenging the demolition to his ego after the end of his marriage. When he thought about that era he chastised himself. And when he thought through the women he remembered every name and detail of the pile
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Dead Man Rolling

The lives and deaths of writers are often as ugly as they. Readers clamor to know more, they want everything revealed. When that could only spoil the mystery. Tour buses in Key West bellow out the names of the bars they pass, informing tourists ‘this was Hemingway’s favorite place to drink in the afternoons’. I would be more impressed to find a bar Hemingway did not frequent. Writers are a tribe oft
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Until Death

She’d fallen in love many times before, each real, meaning she’s fickle, meanwhile he had never had a girlfriend, meaning he’s emotionally undeveloped. Coupl’a lightweights. They were insanely attracted to each other. They played at home, tried on outfits and posed before mirrors and snapped photographs. They cooked together. They laughed. They were twenty-four and in love and they married. Why wouldn’t it last
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Mia Borders Better Than Ever

I’m playing Mia Borders, her new album Fever Dreams, thankfully available on iTunes, and properly recorded. One thing I’ll say for Ms Mia is she does a good recording. She’s a pro and by the way she does most everything herself. Mia composes the music and writes the lyrics and she has some signature sounds, for example she bursts out with round pops of sound, audio-light orbs that bespeckle her songs, orchestral conf
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Sunday Story: Lilly

    Lilly was a girl who found her tribe was nature itself. She wasn’t a hippy but she had a way of communicating and thriving on a, shall we say a floral level, more than the most of us. In any big city she would pause extra long passing by a flower shop. She’d say, ‘I’m breathing real air’. She could negotiate this tough new world while slowly it choked her. Damage is the obv
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