tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29019600.post1470751078649831234..comments2023-11-05T07:43:12.988-05:00Comments on Theater Of Cruelty: If You Read Something, Set It FreeCrazylegshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14467360884649854810noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29019600.post-70928275971786959622010-08-21T21:21:22.905-04:002010-08-21T21:21:22.905-04:00BookCrossing. It'll set you free.<a href="http://bookcrossing.com/friend/fowgre" rel="nofollow">BookCrossing</a>. It'll set you free.Greg Fowlerhttp://frommybottomstep.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29019600.post-70712532665645528752010-08-19T21:26:52.662-04:002010-08-19T21:26:52.662-04:00I wish I could part with books. But I somehow thin...I wish I could part with books. But I somehow think they have souls, and by leaving them somewhere, it's like abandoning a kitten. Which explains why books like KILLER WARRIOR and PATRIOT GAMES still lurk on my shelves like ungrateful, pissing tomcats.Pagan Mnemosynehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12061221110006137683noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29019600.post-32085462303509706852010-08-17T13:58:58.233-04:002010-08-17T13:58:58.233-04:00I like your story better. Especially since it invo...I like your story better. Especially since it involves sex and guilt. Very "dramolan".David Webbhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05891790923170327958noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29019600.post-48393207682721119922010-08-17T13:48:30.620-04:002010-08-17T13:48:30.620-04:00You are the epitamy of silver linings, David. I ha...You are the epitamy of silver linings, David. I had never considered that Joe Hill's fascination with the dark arts (likely a result of long, lonely winters spent locked up in his father's study) could mean a better life for our Spanish-speaking friends.<br /><br />In *my* imaginary world, the book has water-damage and a cracked spine. It's sitting in a street vendor's stall under the hot Costa Rican sun on the tourist beach-strip in Manual Antonio. Enter: The Girl. She is American, 21, rather plain looking, and travelling alone. She's trying to find herself - not realizing that her choices lie between the life of a hipster and life of a relief worker for a second-tier NGO.<br /> <br />She spies the book and buys it for nearly nothing. Guilt drives her to buy some local doodad that looks indigenous just because it's made of clay and poorly decorated. She can't decide whether the exchange is ironic or a simple juxtaposition. <br /> <br />She sighs and wanders onto the beach to make a nest for the afternoon. Sleepy, her eyes close and she dreams of getting laid under clean sheets. She'll go home soon enough, she thinks.<br /><br />-Fin-Crazylegshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14467360884649854810noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29019600.post-7736920871262855152010-08-17T10:41:00.651-04:002010-08-17T10:41:00.651-04:00Maybe the maid has it. Maybe she doesn't speak...Maybe the maid has it. Maybe she doesn't speak English...yet. This will be her key to freedom in the new world. Then, one day, she will read you message, understand the gift of language you have given her, and will send you an e-mail from her small apartment in Manhattan where she is making a new life for herself.<br /><br />That's definitely going to happen. That would be "proptor", don't you thin? CAPTCHA wins again!David Webbhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05891790923170327958noreply@blogger.com