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Weekly Contest #348
My day spiraled away from me—outlining my thesis, teaching a few classes, meeting with endless voices and faces, typical advanced academia—and I forgot about the date I’d set up earlier on my phone app. Stephen something? I barely remembered his name. I made it back to my apartment, micro-waved some left-over coffee and sat on my ratty couch. I held the warm mug close to me, closed my eyes, and a while later, woke with what felt like a tremor.Something was off, different, and it was more than exhaustion. It was like I had forgotten something...
Weekly Contest #304
The first day of the workshop was a disaster, scary even. The program was loose, unstructured, the emphasis on volume of output, ideas flowing, torrents with no analytical thought. After all I’d been through in the last few years, the workshop’s buzz phrases—stream of consciousness creation, enhanced intimacy with thoughts and emotions—should have triggered my alarms. I had taken a damn bus all the way from the city to somewhere in New Jersey, slept on a mat on a distant friend’s kitchen floor, and the next morning, gone to class. The teache...
Weekly Contest #195
warning: references to earlier substance abuse Bass Notes Dan Yokum Three of us, the backups, are already on stage, our instruments ready, when the promotor announces the stars, the two sisters, Janie and Marie. They glide out from the wing, Janie with her violin, wave and smile at the roaring audience, and position themselves behind their microphones. Marie picks up her guitar and Janie flips her hand toward me, signaling me to start my slow, steady bass thump. The drums kick in, gentle at first, then the organ swell, and off we go. Ma...
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