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Coachella is upon me

This weekend, I’ll be attending a 3 day concert, one of the biggest and brightest in the country.  The timing isn’t exactly ideal since we’ve got a half marathon to run the following weekend.  I’ve been to Coachella once before,

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Coachella is upon me

This weekend, I’ll be attending a 3 day concert, one of the biggest and brightest in the country.  The timing isn’t exactly ideal since we’ve got a half marathon to run the following weekend.  I’ve been to Coachella once before,

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Physical Meaning of Geometrical Propositions

This post’s title comes from the first chapter of Einstein’s Relativity.  I think this would be a great story title…too bad it’s already taken. So I stumbled upon an interesting magazine called Space Squid, which specializes in humorous speculative sci-fi

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Physical Meaning of Geometrical Propositions

This post’s title comes from the first chapter of Einstein’s Relativity.  I think this would be a great story title…too bad it’s already taken. So I stumbled upon an interesting magazine called Space Squid, which specializes in humorous speculative sci-fi

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“During the night something like a miracle happened”

This is the first line of that time-honored classic, Jim the Boy. I’ve never read it, but I have it on good authority that it’s worth a read. Today’s story for the day is again a seven-liner.  It involves a

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“During the night something like a miracle happened”

This is the first line of that time-honored classic, Jim the Boy. I’ve never read it, but I have it on good authority that it’s worth a read. Today’s story for the day is again a seven-liner.  It involves a

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Sufficiently death matched

So yesterday I competed in a Literary Death Match, an international reading series put on by Opium Magazine (based in Brooklyn) and Dime Stories here in San Diego.  The event was a blast.  Lots of good readers, and like all

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Sufficiently death matched

So yesterday I competed in a Literary Death Match, an international reading series put on by Opium Magazine (based in Brooklyn) and Dime Stories here in San Diego.  The event was a blast.  Lots of good readers, and like all

/ 2 Comments

“I was born in the city of Bombay… once upon a time”

This first-liner comes from Salman Rushdie’s novel Midnight’s Children, a book I’ve not read yet but would like to soon. Another benefit of cranking out stories a such a rapid rate is that I’m learning things about myself as a

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“I was born in the city of Bombay… once upon a time”

This first-liner comes from Salman Rushdie’s novel Midnight’s Children, a book I’ve not read yet but would like to soon. Another benefit of cranking out stories a such a rapid rate is that I’m learning things about myself as a

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“It was love at first site.”

The title of day’s post is the first line of Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Although a little belated, this is yesterday’s story.  Today’s story is forthcoming. April 11

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“It was love at first site.”

The title of day’s post is the first line of Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Although a little belated, this is yesterday’s story.  Today’s story is forthcoming. April 11

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The first state of man after death

Emmanual Swedenborg, in his book, Heaven and it’s Wonders and Hell, says (in the chapter sharing the same name as this blog post): There are three states that man passes through after death before he enters either heaven or hell. 

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The first state of man after death

Emmanual Swedenborg, in his book, Heaven and it’s Wonders and Hell, says (in the chapter sharing the same name as this blog post): There are three states that man passes through after death before he enters either heaven or hell. 

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“An extraordinary thing happened today.”

Today’s submission is probably the most bizarre yet.  So you’ve been warned.  I thought it appropriate to quote, as the title of this post, the first line from Nikolai Gogol’s short story “The Diary of a Madman.” I don’t know

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“An extraordinary thing happened today.”

Today’s submission is probably the most bizarre yet.  So you’ve been warned.  I thought it appropriate to quote, as the title of this post, the first line from Nikolai Gogol’s short story “The Diary of a Madman.” I don’t know

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“Whan that Aprill with his shoures sote”

This is the first line of the prologue to the Canterbury Tales.  Roughly, it means “When that April, with his sweet showers.” So this is the first day I’ve really let this story-writing slip away from me.  I’ve had a

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“Whan that Aprill with his shoures sote”

This is the first line of the prologue to the Canterbury Tales.  Roughly, it means “When that April, with his sweet showers.” So this is the first day I’ve really let this story-writing slip away from me.  I’ve had a

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“I can feel the heat closing in”

Since I couldn’t think of a title for today’s posting, I thought I’d use the first line from a famous novel: Burroughs’ Naked Lunch. Today’s story is a little different, form-wise.  It takes the form of a blog.  The stuff

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“I can feel the heat closing in”

Since I couldn’t think of a title for today’s posting, I thought I’d use the first line from a famous novel: Burroughs’ Naked Lunch. Today’s story is a little different, form-wise.  It takes the form of a blog.  The stuff

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The one cliche writers can’t escape

Coffee.  Read any book, watch any move that has writers as characters, and you’re sure to find them at some point guzzling a super-gulp sized cup of java (or vodka–but that’s another cliche altogether).  Or, if they’re not drinking coffee,

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The one cliche writers can’t escape

Coffee.  Read any book, watch any move that has writers as characters, and you’re sure to find them at some point guzzling a super-gulp sized cup of java (or vodka–but that’s another cliche altogether).  Or, if they’re not drinking coffee,

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The Monday Grind

Still some earthquake aftershocks today.  Other than that, not much news to speak of.  A typical Monday poring over my various to-do lists. This story was originally a poem I wrote for a class in grad school.  My teacher defined

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The Monday Grind

Still some earthquake aftershocks today.  Other than that, not much news to speak of.  A typical Monday poring over my various to-do lists. This story was originally a poem I wrote for a class in grad school.  My teacher defined

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