tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post6256164856808368359..comments2024-03-24T11:17:10.498-07:00Comments on Unemployed Imagination.: 3 Minutes. Go!JD Maderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-66591319903887087482013-08-03T17:16:21.540-07:002013-08-03T17:16:21.540-07:00That was the awesome. Bloody birds. ;) Thanks for ...That was the awesome. Bloody birds. ;) Thanks for stopping by!JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-6429543190358088402013-08-03T16:48:34.927-07:002013-08-03T16:48:34.927-07:00If it only was a dark and stormy night - but no, t...If it only was a dark and stormy night - but no, the sun shone, the sky was blue, the bloody birds tweeted their stupid heads off in delight from the bird table. How was I supposed to get out now, with all the guests looking at me like the fat bridesmaid no one wants to get off with at a wedding.<br />"What? I only said, thank God she got her nose fixed." Like they weren't all thinking that. Like you can't say that at an eight year old's birthday party. Could have been worse, at least I didn't say anything about how no one is really sure who her Daddy is, least of all her Mummy.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-87663378202317987152013-08-02T22:05:52.620-07:002013-08-02T22:05:52.620-07:00Oooh, that last line is sick. Nice one. I used to ...Oooh, that last line is sick. Nice one. I used to know that guy. ;)JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-47576467543759164022013-08-02T18:12:15.097-07:002013-08-02T18:12:15.097-07:00My brain moves slow, but this time it was intentio...My brain moves slow, but this time it was intentional. I can go with this, brother. Pale light like freckles on spackled walls white-washed for decades. My fingers are all goofy. Still with a little of the pink nail polish from the last Spa Night with the girls. I wonder where they are now. I wish I had a thing that made my brain and body move faster so I could spin into a wonderment of electroliphic light. I don't think that's a word and by the way, I fucked your mother. You'd believe me though. If you could see the frambling light as it worms its way through the soft music I have playing. Which is probably really fucking loud because I was unkind to my ears. But somewhere there is a drum beating. I can feel it sure as the stutter I sometimes get when my heart beats. Not the kind they took me out of class for. Murmur, I believe it's called. JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-3883470480390241282013-08-02T18:10:42.763-07:002013-08-02T18:10:42.763-07:00Not only that, but I have beer.Not only that, but I have beer.Laurie Borishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08361627047571650547noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-10038808778092997082013-08-02T18:06:44.705-07:002013-08-02T18:06:44.705-07:00KaBLAMMO. Ah, fuck you. You get to do this when yo...KaBLAMMO. Ah, fuck you. You get to do this when you're all "just got off work and it's friday". I gotta start the shit in the morning when I'm all sleepy. (10am-ish) ;)JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-4338666421490749672013-08-02T17:29:28.413-07:002013-08-02T17:29:28.413-07:00A pebble falls on the silken pond surface, ripplin...A pebble falls on the silken pond surface, rippling out in even, hypnotic circles. They reach the edge, the gloomy, concrete barrier with its patina of moss, a frog wedged in between two chunks of rock. It’s green with brown spots and my brother dares me to pick it up but I’m afraid because of what Christine MacElroy said about the warts. She showed me her gnarled hand and said I’d end up like her if I did things like play with frogs and boys. But my brother says I’m stupid to listen to an old cow like her so I reach for it, squinching my eyes closed, feeling my fingers tighten against the smooth, smoother than I ever thought it would be, body. And it squirms away with a splash as it lands in the pond, sending ripples in the other direction, skittering off with a glumph as it disappears below the surface.Laurie Borishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08361627047571650547noreply@blogger.com