hee. I wish.

When this happens, I want to be sitting at the next table so I can shamelessly eavesdrop.

Personally, I'm holding out for the film rights.

Karl - wow, all those conflicting emptions, beautifully realized. It hurts to read in all the ways it should.

They bled sunlight.

is really getting to me right now.

A snippet from a short story I'm toying with:

The Gates of Hell

Everything was in place. The recordings were complete, his digital creations seamlessly interposed. He made the rounds, flipping on each projector, and again, tweaking alignment. Finally, he stood before the hologram, lost in wonder. Rodin’s sketches, realized in three dimensions, as they must have appeared in the artist’s imagination.

The damned souls trapped in the pillars seemed to writhe in his peripheral vision. His gaze was trapped by the three figures of Adam atop the Gates. They slowly swiveled until they were pointing directly at him. “Abandon all hope,” he thought as the Gates swung open.

Drabble 108

Nature of the Beast

Life is ever changing, and as malleable beings living this drama, so are we. Lovers, friends, husbands, babies, parents, careers, geography – these are all sources of continuous change within us. When we start excavating and digging into our hearts, to discover our own needs and wants, we make the biggest changes of all. And they are never clear until they are. It's hiding like a chameleon; in plain site. We sit here, or, at least, I’m sitting here, waiting for the outcome of the big plan to show itself. I’m anxious to see what it reveals. And I’m scared as hell.

Aims, that's marvellous. I'd likely change 'plain site' to 'plain sight,' unless you're intentionally punning. But it's got a lovely tingle of anticipation.

Bah, you are right. By which I mean, yes. I was punning.

t can't even convince self

And also, many thanks.

153 words, but bonus frontal nudity(Somewhere in Connecticut, Philip Roth's mood lightens, and he can't say why...just feels proud all over in an "Everytime a shikse shows her things, a Jewish writer gets his wings," kind of way.)

Removing her blouse with the first guy she made out with was easier than it should’ve been. After all, she’d never taken her shirt off with intent to do anything but change or wash something. It was hard to connect what was on her body to Cosmo Girls’ outthrust marketed orbs, but there had been over fifty attendants through there so she felt about as modest as Madonna in a photo shoot. She wondered if it made it less special and considered pretending, but it wasn’t as if he had a lot to compare her to.

“You’ve got great tits,” he said, somewhat laboriously.(She might have preferred “You’re so great.” But that’s the problem with life; it doesn’t have her way with dialogue.) But she still reclassified her breasts, watching him look at them, even though she knew what made her bold had little to with him, and nothing to do with love.

erika, I like that. Multiple reveals, breasts and revealing something to herself as well.

Thanks, Deb.

Going along with the breastes theme, erika started. Magnificently, BTW.

Almost like Samson

They used to precede her into the room. We always viewed her as an Amazonian type woman. “These are my breasts and they are large.” Shoulders back, chest out, she was a woman proud. The years of carrying them, and her persona around, led to the stooping of her shoulders. She stopped being the woman I knew and admired. When I saw her after the surgery, I was curious. She got out of the shower and came into my room, wrapped in a towel. “Come on, Mom. Let’s see em!” She lowered the towel, and I saw the woman returned.