The Daily Rumpus
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From Stephen Elliott
...moreI met my friends in San Francisco, and I felt safe. I kept thinking – so curiously! – that I hoped he was okay. How could someone be so angry at whoever loved him? How must it feel to hate being loved, and then to have the person that loved you run away in fear?
Things move quickly in Tbilisi, when they move at all. The haggling takes ten minutes—the rent holds steady, but Dato will replace the washing machine and install wireless internet throughout the ezo—and when it is over, we drink.
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I was stronger. By far I was the stronger of us both. A ballerina’s punch could’ve broken your nose, but I held back. We danced around the room like two tiny sparrows pecking at a fresh worm.
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The only time I can stand the sight of the bouquet of bullshit is early in the morning, before I flip on the lights. In the dark their perfection is only imagined, not confirmed by sight. This eases the edges like a pain pill dulls the healing muscles around the site of my incision.
...moreSeriously, what the hell? Via Feministing, this is one of the more disturbing stories I’ve come across. Topeka County said is couldn’t afford to prosecute domestic battery cases, so they stopped and dumped it on the city of Topeka.
...more“Nothing links up, nothing makes sense, there’s only feelings and actions as you’re lost to something bigger than yourself. There is no cause. In that way, and perhaps in that way only, it’s like love.”
Conner Habib writes a beautiful blog entry on the complexities of a past love and domestic violence.
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Joshua Mohr’s second novel returns to the seedy side of San Francisco, where the addicted and the lost search for redemption.