
VIRGIN SUNNING ON ARTIFICIAL ROCK by Kate Busatto
But before I can swallow, I must disarm her. Rob her of agency and hope. Break the faith that brought her to the enclosure.

But before I can swallow, I must disarm her. Rob her of agency and hope. Break the faith that brought her to the enclosure.

I wanted to highlight how that’s an impossible fantasy in biographies of someone in the past. That said, I wanted to be silly with the title.

John tracked their interactions and gauged the hierarchy. A redhead with no shirt and a flashbang sunburn ordered the youngest ones around. They worked in shifts now.

I have seen the fruit of man’s desire to live at all costs. Death and more death to all living things. But now a reckoning awakes.

In fact, my experience watching Popeye is what this film most reminded me of: the feeling of alarm, then dismay, and then the slow death of acceptance.

The veteran killed the karaoke machine, just yanked the plug out the back and shoved the whole unit over, which was outrageous and way better than calling the cops. For three whole seconds, I felt like a winner.

As for the demon novel, yes, I am dancing with that devil, so we’ll see what happens. But I hope to write short stories for as long as I’m writing.

Almost breathlessly, he raved to me that he had done it: He had separated himself from nature once and for all. I pointed out that we ate from nature before a light flickered in his eyes and I cupped my hand over my mouth.

Podcasting has forever cured me of being precious about writing time or having writer’s block. There’s so much commitment in podcasting, I’ve learned it doesn’t matter if I don’t feel like it or whatever, the time to do it is the time to do it.

Scientists have theories about why this happens, but I’ve got one of my own: our brain wants us to remember our horrible moments most clearly.