Thursday, March 26, 2009

whaddaya call it... a mash-up? cut-up? thing-up?

She rested on an army cot, her hide: a small deal dresser with buffalo-hide decorations sold easily for he raised his right hand as if I were about to disagree.
"A while? How about it?"
Took him on as an apprentice when he had just turned twelve. He said later that, no lie, there was something funny about them-- visit his mother. The whole house knew it. She was cheerful even the last 84 days of her pregnancy on food mixed with matter to who knows you. I've been thinking it over. I want you out of here.

taken randomly from Grace Paley, Raymond Carver, and Georges Perec

2 comments:

Barry said...

Sing-a-ma-jig!

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

My life's a cut up... so is everyones. It's the old saying: a sum of our parts. you can't rearrange a whole.

Shane Wishes Best