Criticism. Essay. Fiction. Science. Weather.
1A piece removed. 2Come eat it.
Or don't. 3Wine, Shoulder, Bolt, Socket. 4Mothbombs 5On the road with your only soul. 6One woman's trash is another woman's treasure 7Aliens! Right here in America! 8It's not as crazy as it sounds
or, music is as music does 91) Sign.
2) Hope for the best. 10A friendship in a bottle. 11A five-year-old tries his hand at action adventure. 12Will the circle be unbroken. 1390ways' first Quaterly Review rages on:
2 samples of Fiction. 14Muscles and fat.
A thin layer of sweat. 15Fiction goes serial.
Part 1 has sex and drugs.
You know you want to stay tuned. 16Our fiction serial concludes to cure your
vertigo from last week's cliff-hanger. 17An iced-out 21-speed sensation: The Moves are
all up on your handlebars. 18We're all in this together.
Except those bastards in administration. 19Jilted, laughed at,
and in the air. 20Swirling and swirling... 21You can't make yourself like them, but you have to pretend because they are your family. 22How well do jewel cases retain odor?
About as well as you stink. 23It's black and white. It's old world.
It's photo time. 24Piggy calls, wanting to sell you insurance.
This is what's on the other end of the line. 25A long pause, then, 26Fiction's Second Qaurterly Review
can speak Italian. 27It's only bread, after all. 28It's job search time at 90ways. 29George W. Bush's resting heart rate and a bum in a green sweater. 30Antique weaponry and teenage angst.
Together at last. 31One-hundred-fifty-three syllables
of October fun. 32there is only
self 33She's cold to the touch.
Cold and pebbly. 34Gut-wrenching love.
And wallabies. 35Building a habit out of ivies and orange flowers. 36A 90ways exclusive sneak peak at the
new and groundbreaking Alphabet Book. 37Type it with one hand and
see what happens 38A face any susbsitence farmer could love. 39The Quarterly Review: read it again for the third time. 40For every task, someone is the best.
Sometimes that's impressive. 41I didn't get a computer;
I moved to Indiana. 42A piece removed. 4390ways has new concerns about identity theft. Lock up the children and your sense of self. 44time. eyes. deep sighs. 45I know there's a place 4690 stars are born. 47I had to ask. 48It's about sex.
But isn't that always the way with classical music? 49The epistolary form in the 21st century.
Complete with neuroses and unpunctuation. 50There is no end to the party. 51Rockin to the sweet sounds of prepared food. 52Of or pertaining to. 53Including spaces, this blurb is 90 characters. Ways, words, characters. It is a leitmotif. 54Minnesota. Miami. Poetry in 90ways' Fiction.
It's the best of all worlds. 55It lives and breathes and is hungry for carnival food. 56A piece removed. 57The curtain is being pulled back... 58Up in the Fiction house! It's a bird. It's a plane.
It's an illustralogue! 59The hat, in all honesty, is a private matter. 60Putting up with all the doth. 6190words strike terror into the hearts of the longwinded. 62Return of the illustralogue! 63Take one down, pass it around,
blow your nose. 64A piece removed. 65The First Quarterly Review wants
you to meet its little friend. 66From our servers to your ear buds!
It's misguided enthusiasm, in podcast form! 67Questions for the man himself.
Plus, the podcast adventure continues. 68No one would ever use Starbucks
to define their identity. Right... 69Don't you remember the rose clipped under my windshield wiper like a butterfly under a pin? 70Oh, it's nothing.
Oh, it's life-threatening disease. 71It's not you. It's me.
And my Eurasian captors.
72Root, root, root for the brisk
sale of anything possible. 73Look within the very bowels of the soul.
Or at least your mother. 74We're not strangers any more. 75He knows of what he speaks. 76I find that often times I'm quite
mature enough to enjoy a few beverages. 77He is licking me.
I don't like it one bit. 78Our favorite stuff is coming 'round the mountain, again. 79A wooden-back brush and a homemade bowl of oatmeal. 80A man's home is his... 81Fack to the Buture. 82This dude pulled back on his nose
and mucus and unleashed a city. 83The polls are in. 93% of respondents do not approve of the monkeybone lodged in their lower lip 84Like a thirsty man in the desert 85Taxpayer dollars wasted on broken egg. News at eleven. 86She loves her red octopus.
She will chew it to death. 87Bubbling, gurgling, fighting a moment to stay afloat. 88Molting our pasts into the air... 89The Return of 90 Words 90It comes but once a... ever. 91Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, the end of the Fiscal Quarter. 92The 540 word circle is now unbroken. 93An emptying out of the animus, perceived as tranquility
94All roads lead to South Dakota. Or at least the I-90 does, anyway. 95He laid down his whittling knife and he and his brother took up arms in rage. 96Drinking manhattans made with a good bourbon, and strong. 97Living white and pudgy, I never expected much for myself. Now, I could tell that was true. 98A few gestural lines towards the thought of death. 99Rest in peace.
I know I will. 100And then we played baseball and then we played army and then we were best friends. 101We torn holes in sheets and became ghosts for each other's pleasures. 102I looked at the pictures of you, twenty years old,
sometimes skinny and sometimes your face a soft moon.
103Fingers clutching little trinkets of the day... 104All roads lead to South Dakota. Or at least the I-90 does, anyway. 105Everywhere signs of an interstice arriving. 106What you see and what you believe are two different things. 107It was as if a million literary ghosts poured from its pages, moaning to be set free. 108So what if too many times we have been here, both
lost in our machinations...
My Conversion to Wallabism
After last night, there are so many ideas floating around my head I need to write them down or I'll forget something. You must know that you threw a lot at me. I'm glad that you've enjoyed the last two weeks we've spent together as much as I have. I had a strong feeling our attraction was mutual and last night it was wonderful to learn I was right.
It was less wonderful to learn that we cannot kiss. Especially since I learned by trying to kiss you and being brained with a wine bottle. If I understood you correctly, and honestly things were still a bit hazy even after we cleaned the glass and blood out of my hair, we can never kiss until I come to accept Wallabism.
At first this seemed a bit doctrinal. To be honest, I was put off. I believe that, in general, ultimatums and demands are no way to start a relationship. Also, I am not interested in getting involved with anyone whose religion can be so constrictive. I know you said Wallabism is not a religion but I'm not sure what else to call it without "belittling it," which I know you hate.
So I've spent all morning looking over the pamphlet and study guide you made me take home last night. As far as I can tell there are two tenets of Wallabism that are especially important to you. The first is, and I quote, "You, your family, the elephants of Asia, the whales of the deep, even the planet we live on, are all parasites in a wallaby-like animal modern scientists have mistakenly classified as 'the Universe.'"
After looking over the sidebar on the Total Life Wallaby and his homeland, Grebestualia (sp?), I think that, of the two tenets, this is the one I can accept most easily. The pamphlet is right that scientists are always revising the theorems and hypotheses of past scientists and I'm no Wallaby/Universe expert, so who am I to say that in a few hundred years this bit of thinking won't be held in high regard?
I especially found the Large Intestine Doctrine to be compelling. Of course, I had never looked at meteorology that way but it makes much more sense than the high and low pressure fronts the weather man on channel 10 will not shut up about. And the bit about tornadoes! Compelling stuff.
Still, I'm not a scientist and I have to admit that I spent the better part of the morning trying to get my mind around the Pubescent Wallaby explanation for the seeming expansion of "the Universe." Once I stepped back and looked at it, it does seem to dovetail nicely with what we now know about the Big Bang and so on. (Have you read the book the reading mentioned? Wallabic Mating and Conception: The True Story of the Big Bang and Our Creation? Sounds fascinating.)
The second tenet of Wallabism that you alluded to is on much shakier ground. I think I see the passage that you're talking about but your interpretation of that to mean that new couples cannot kiss until they have known each other for 11 weeks seems to be a stretch at best. I understand your concerns about causing "intestinal disquiet" and thereby accelerating global warming but, and I read this part several times, the number 11 seems to be made entirely of whole cloth.
I think perhaps you simply want to take it slow for your own reasons and you found this passage reaffirming. "Premature" can be read a number of different ways but I don't think it is referring to a specific timeline. I for one have never felt like a kiss is more mature, more ready to erupt, less likely to cause Wallabic indigestion, than the one that hasn't quite yet happened between you and me.
But Wanda, I am willing to move toward that kiss at any pace. Worst case scenario: it will be two more months before we kiss. I've had such a good time over the last few weeks, I'm willing to wait for it. So, I'm telling you now, whatever else happens I will adhere to Wallabism's school of thought and way of life. It feels good to be on the cutting edge of scientific inquiry. And those conclusions you've come to that I cannot entirely agree with, I can abide by, and, perhaps, in time, come to accept. After all, there are only so many people you really connect with on this colonic wallaby ride we call life.
P.S. Call me.