83 Chapters
Medium 9781574411836

The Trouble with Eve

Robert Flynn University of North Texas Press PDF

The Trouble with Eve j

America was in the third year of a world war. Young Carter was in his first year of confusion over girls. Everything they did was so . . . confusing. When a girl said he had long eyelashes he had rubbed them, not sure whether she meant a loose one was falling into his eye or that he was a sissy. He was sure “You have nice hair,” meant why don’t you wash it sometime and “cutest freckles” meant did all of them survive a washcloth?

When girls looked at him he couldn’t meet their eyes afraid of what his face would show. When they smiled at him he gaped at their lips. Why were their mouths so . . . different?

When they laughed, he fled. He also fled the presence of

Clarissa for fear of what he would do. Fall on the ground and kiss her feet probably.

Clarissa Bowman. Girls had such pretty names. Clarissa.

Bowman. He tasted the words with his mouth. Clarissa Bowman. He was given his mother’s maiden name, Young. Young

Carter. It made him want to cry. Why would anyone name a baby “Young?” It was bad enough being called “kid” when you were fourteen and the country was at war. New teachers called him Carter Young until he corrected them. Men said his name sounded like a law firm or a funeral parlor.

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Medium 9780615928272

I Feel Hurt When You Are An Asshole

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF

DANI BURLISON

Unfortunately, there are people in this world that believe– deep down in their indigo-shaded tie-dyed souls–that they are effective communicators. What these people don’t realize is that they are crazy.

Take wannabe Nonviolent Communication devotees, for instance. And also, people who are sociopaths.

The premise seems harmless enough: Nonviolent Communication is a self-righteous cult-like language style that supposedly facilitates the flow of communication needed to exchange information and resolve differences peacefully. It also claims to help focus attention on compassion as a motivating factor, instead of guilt, blame, fear or shame. In some cases, it helps people to own their feelings. This, I appreciate. I always own the shit out of my feelings, and sometimes everyone else’s feelings, too. Growing up in an obscenely large dysfunctional family molded me into a loyal codependent. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

The framework of Nonviolent Communication adds a lot of unnecessary words to sentences, though, and can chew up anywhere from four to thirty-five minutes of any given day.

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Medium 9780615928272

Eminem Sex Dreams Decoded

Dani Burlison Petals & Bones Press PDF

DANI BURLISON

We discuss politics, genetic engineering and needle exchange programs. He invites me to a private screening of a factory farming documentary back at his San Francisco hotel room. Tugging at his baggy trousers, he leads me out of the bar.

Back at the hotel, his passionate rant about dismantling the racist prison industrial complex lures me, without hesitation, into the hotel bed, which is stacked with handmade quilts. “I made those myself,” he says.

Eminem is a closet quilter. I am so putting out.

He’s just aggressive enough to keep me pleased without hurting me in ways that I don’t want to be hurt. His hands are smooth and strong, save for the calluses where the mic is usually firmly grasped. But on this night, my night of an unbridled sexcapade, tangled up in Eminem’s hand-sewn rag quilts, the only thing in his hand is my body. Every single naughty bit of it.

As the sun rises, he serves the best organic orange juice ever and asks if I can stay another night. “I have season four of

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Medium 9781741795240

The Prince and I

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

At the age of nine, Kathie Kertesz started dreaming about international travel – and saving her money. By the time she was fourteen she was able to pay for her first trip to Europe. Now a happy grandmother of six, in the past year she has had essays published dealing with her major passions: travel and dancing. In her professional life she coaches people in high performance and joie de vivre. Visit her website at http://home.earthlink.net/~kkertesz.

It never occurred to me that I would meet a prince looking like this: dressed in blue jeans, slightly damp from spilled sparkling water, and carrying a long Hungarian sausage under my arm. I am half-Hungarian – which means that I was brought up with a strong romantic streak. I learned the Viennese waltz when I was five. When I was a girl my favourite fantasy was of attending a ball and meeting Prince Charming. I would, of course, be dressed in a beautiful long gown. He would be wearing a formal tuxedo and tails, or possibly the dress uniform of his country. It would all be very proper and formal, and I would fall madly in love.

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Medium 9781741795240

Ignoring the Admiral

Lonely Planet Lonely Planet ePub

Jan Morris, who is Anglo-Welsh and lives in Wales, wrote some forty books before declaring that Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere (2001) would be her last. Since then The World (2003), a retrospective collection of her work, has been published and she is now working on a long addendum to her allegorical novel Last Letters from Hav (1985), provisionally entitled Hav of the Myrmidons.

Devoted as I am to the ethos of Lonely Planet, I was never a backpacker. ‘The British Navy always travels first class’, Admiral of the Fleet Lord ‘Jacky’ Fisher used to say as he checked into yet another fashionable spa, and I was similarly conditioned during my adolescent years as an officer with the 9th Queen’s Royal Lancers of the British Army. At the end of World War II, when we were not getting messy in our dirty old tanks, we were making sure that we ate at the best restaurants and stayed at the poshest hotels.

Nowhere did we honour Lord Fisher’s axiom more loyally than in Venice, where we happily made the most of our status as members of a victorious occupying army. Many of the best hotels became our officers’ clubs, while the most expensive restaurants were pleased to accept our vastly inflated currency (which we had very likely acquired by selling cigarettes on the black market). And in particular, since all the city’s motorboats had been requisitioned by the military, we rode up and down the Grand Canal, under the Rialto Bridge, over to the Lido, like so many lucky young princes.

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