Tremor

In that apartment up there a young bank clerk read an architecture glossy, and in that one across there a DJ drank Cointreau on ice with a sales clerk from the “Gap” and brushed a manicured index finger along the downy hairs of her ear until she shivered. Next door a man read a box of medicine a Chinese man had given him.

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Posted in Pain Suit

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Everything’s just a setup for a joke to you, isn’t it, Mig?

The joke is on the pacifists.
The joke is on you.
Yesterday’s joke is today’s news.
A joke is a crime.
A joke is not a thing but a process.
A joke is a very serious thing.
A joke is no joke.
A joke is like a story.

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Blah blah vanilla blah blah blah

The sign outside said Happy Hour but the drinks cost the same as always and the waiters were delightfully cranky. I sat across from Anne, feeling suave as my penultimate cigarette dangled from my lip and I felt my pockets looking for my lighter.
Anne made the international gesture for “turn your cigarette around, you’re trying to light the filter”.
She had come all the way from Brno to watch me smoke my final pack of cigarettes as we wandered around Vienna.

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Posted in The Bug

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But otherwise, everything’s okay?

My dad’s in poor health. I called him at the hospital last night and tried to cheer him up:

    Mig: But other than the vomiting blood and the heart attack, you’re feeling okay?

    Dad: Heh.

Life back on IDX-E

7: Tell me more about life back on your planet, dad.
45: They hate the color gold there.
7: Why?
45: It’s the color of poison on IDX-E. Like here on Earth, you know, don’t eat any red berries you’re not sure of? There it’s gold.
7: So they don’t get married there?
45: Not usually. And if they do, they wear grey rings.

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